solemnly. âNo, Daddy did it all by himself.â
âWell, letâs see how he did,â Anne said and read the neatly typed paper. She glanced up and nodded. âThis is very good, Mr. Carmichael. It explains what you need quite clearly. But I was wonderingâ¦â She paused and bit her bottom lip.
âIâm not sure what your budget is,â she continued, the words rushing out in a tumble. âBut I have extra time in the evenings, and Iâd be willing to do the project for you. Iâm an experienced seamstress, and I work fast. I could even make a sample for your approval before you decide if youâd like.â
The band directorâs brown eyes widened. âAre you kidding me? That would be incredible. I donât need a sample to decide. Youâre hired! Just tell me how much youâll charge.â
Anne pursed her lips, considering how much time the job would take then named a price.
âAre you sure itâs enough?â he asked. âEven with the cost of the materials, itâs a fraction of what the flag companies all quoted.â
âI donât have their overhead,â she explained, giving a little shrug. âBesides, it will give me a chance to contribute to a good cause and make a little extra cash.â
âYou know,â Brad said, âif youâre serious about making some extra money, the band parents always need someone to do alterations for the kidsâ uniforms. Every year, sleeves have to be shortened or lengthened. The trousers have to be hemmed or let down, too. Would it be okay if I have them contact you?
Anne hesitated. She wasnât sure how she felt about having her name passed around where anyone might see it. But the opportunity to earn some extra cash was too good to pass up. She reached over to the card holder on the countertop and handed him one of the shop business cards. âHereâs a card with the shopâs phone number. If you give this number to the parents, they can reach me here. Iâm the one who answers the phone most of the time.â
âWonderful. Be ready for a slew of calls. Symphony band starts after the holidays, so everyone will want their concert uniforms altered.â
âFine with me. I can handle the volume. I altered more than a dozen choir robes for Pastor Lockhart last spring.â
âWhat? You mean Gordon Lockhart knew about you and didnât tell me?â Brad pretended to frown. âYou better believe Iâm going to have a few words with my preacher buddy about that.â
Anne stifled a giggle, suddenly feeling like a teenager. It had been a long time since a male had teased her, and it felt good. Flattering. She had nearly forgotten what it was like to have a pleasant conversation with a nice man. If she werenât careful, she could easily let down her guard.
No! She could never allow it to happen. Never! Not with Brad, not with any other man. Anne knew how men were. They started out so sweet and pleasant then they turned. The change would be gradual, so slow she wouldnât notice it at first. But all too soon, sheâd find her life restricted. She wouldnât be able to have friends or indulge in hobbies. He would control who she could talk to and would listen in on her phone conversations. Heâd read her email and lock up the computer so she couldnât get online unless he was standing over her shoulder. Sheâd be forced to quit her job, too. In short, heâd take over her life.
She wouldnât give up control of her life ever again. No matter how nice the man might seem. She pulled herself up short. Why was she even thinking such thoughts? Mr. Carmichael wasnât actually flirting. The band director wasnât asking her out for a date. He was just a customer, a customer who needed her help. She would be polite to him, nothing more.
âThank you for your trust in me, Mr. Carmichael. Iâll order the materials for