Free Deadly Patterns by Melissa Bourbon Page B

although worry settled into my gut. This was not the fun-filled, confident Josie I knew.
    “I’m only five months along and . . . and look at me!”
    I did, and while she had a pretty good baby bump and was already moving more slowly, she was still gorgeous. “Meemaw always used to tell me that when you’re pregnant, you feel fat for nine months, but a lifetime of joy takes over once that baby is born.”
    Her face cleared for just a split second, but then her frown returned. It would take more than one of Loretta Mae’s bits of wisdom to get Josie out of her funk. So I did the thing I did best; I walked to the portable clothes rack in the front room, riffled through the garments hanging there, and pulled out a maternity blouse I’d made for her. I came back into the workroom carrying the three-quarter sleeve empire-waist tunic, perfect for her to wear over black leggings.
    “Oh, Harlow, your magic isn’t going to work on me,” she said, eyeing the blouse.
    I froze for a second, staring at her. My magic? Josie didn’t know about my charm! Only Madelyn Brighton, who happened to be a die-hard paranormal groupie, had figured it out, and I wanted to keep it that way. I felt better knowing that the Cassidy secrets were safely under wraps.
    “None of your creations can bring my figure back,” she said, and I realized she hadn’t meant it literally.
    I released the breath I’d been holding. “It’s not supposed to,” I said. “Try it on.”
    One eyebrow rose skeptically, but she maneuvered off the stool, took the hanger, and disappeared behind the garment-strewn privacy screen. A minute later, she emerged from behind the oversized distressed-wood window shutters, her belly leading the way.
    She didn’t bother to look in the oval floor mirror, instead just throwing her arms out to the side in resignation. “See? I look like a house.”
    My shoulders sagged. She was right. The blouse made her look more pregnant than she was, and the sash belt didn’t sit under her breasts as it should. “It’s okay!” I said, sounding more cheerful than I actually felt. “I have something else I’ve been thinking about. Come back tonight, okay?”
    I’d had two other designs knocking around in my head, one of which I’d partially finished, but neither of them had struck me as just the right one for her.
    In the back of my mind, doubt was slowly creeping in. Was my charm somehow failing me? Normally, I had a crystal clear vision for a person—like I’d had for Raylene Lewis. But the maternity garment for Josie had me stumped. Nothing explicit came to mind, and making a pregnant woman feel sexy and beautiful had its own set of challenges—which I hadn’t conquered yet.
    “Harlow, I’m not sure I can bear it. I know how hard you’re trying, but—”
    “Trust me, Josie. I’m going to make you something spectacular for the fashion show.”
    And, I decided at that very moment, I was going to make the cheongsam I’d envisioned for Raylene. I would start it after the new year and give it to her to symbolize the hope for a new beginning, assuming she wasn’t put away for murder, of course. I might not be able to take away her sorrow over losing her ex-husband, but surely a beautiful garment would help her figure out how to move on.

Chapter 8
    Josie gathered up her jacket and purse, tossing her Ben & Jerry’s container in the garbage can as she left. “Gotta check in at the shop,” she said.
    “So you’re not staying for the Santa doll class?” I asked her.
    “Oh yeah. I’ll be back. Just want to check the order that came in.”
    Once she left I was alone with yards of red velvet and white fur and forced to face the fact that I had no ensemble for Josie’s fashion show debut and couldn’t stop worrying that someone in Bliss had pushed Dan Lee Chrisson to his death. And I had almost suffered the same fate.
    I wanted nothing more than to believe that Hattie and Raylene had nothing to do with it, but the more I