Free Dress Me in Wildflowers by Trish Milburn Page A

escaped her lungs. In the process of fleeing the person she’d been, she didn’t particularly like the person she’d become.
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CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Farrin couldn’t sleep. She dozed for a couple of hours, then tossed and turned. Finally, she gave up and dragged herself and her sketches to Faye’s kitchen table. The stark stillness and quiet of the night distracted her. Funny how eighteen years of living with quiet had been erased by half that time in Manhattan. Eventually, her brain relaxed and she made headway on Cara Hutton’s wedding dress. Instead of erasing every line she sketched, she added to them, becoming more excited with each nuance. She only looked up when she sensed someone watching her.
    “I didn’t mean to bother you,” Faye said as she walked toward the sink.
    “Oh, you didn’t.” Farrin glanced at the clock on the stove. 5:01 a.m. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”
    “How long have you been up?”
    “A couple of hours.”
    “Not much sleep.” Faye poured water in the coffeemaker.
    “No, couldn’t get work off my mind.”
    Faye pointed at the sketchpad in front of Farrin. “Can I see what you’re working on?”
    The design should be kept secret from everyone but the bride, the First Lady, Farrin and her staff, but who would Faye tell? Farrin turned the sketch around.
    Faye stepped forward and slid onto the chair at the end of the table. “Oh honey, it’s beautiful.” Faye lifted the sketch and eyed it like an art lover appreciating a Monet or Van Gogh painting.
    “It’s Cara Hutton’s wedding dress.”
    “She’ll look stunning in it.” Faye shook her head and ran her fingertips lightly over the sketch. “So simple but elegant. It truly is amazing the talent you have for this.”
    “I haven’t felt like that lately. I didn’t think I’d ever get this finished. I’ve been sketching and throwing away designs for weeks.”
    Faye chuckled. “Must be something about my kitchen.”
    Farrin didn’t laugh. Maybe the little kitchen did have some magic in it. Wasn’t it here that Tammie had learned how to cook? Where Farrin had doodled her first dress sketches? This little kitchen in Nowhere, Tennessee had allowed her to do something endless frustrating hours in her office and own home had not.
    The coffee finished brewing, and Faye brought two cups to the table. “I assume you’re not going back to bed?”
    Farrin shook her head. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”
    “I know you have a busy schedule, dear, but don’t run yourself down. You’ll just get sick and further behind.”
    “You sound like my doctor.”
    “Smart doctor.”
    Farrin smiled. “I hope so, as much as I pay him.”
    They fell into silence as Faye looked at the sketch some more.
    “I saw the scrapbook,” Farrin said. “That was sweet of you to keep.”
    “I have one for Tammie too, full of recipes and pictures of events she’s catered. And you know you couldn’t be more of a daughter to me if I’d birthed you myself.”
    That awful lump formed in Farrin’s throat again. She reached over and wrapped her hand around Faye’s cool, wrinkled one. “I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch better.”
    “It’s okay. I know life sometimes takes over.”
    “But I shouldn’t be too busy to pick up the phone and call you.”
    Faye placed her other hand atop Farrin’s. “Honey, we all do things in our own time. Things happen when they’re supposed to.”
    Like this trip back to Oak Valley? Ironic that the trip she’d been dreading for a month had ended up curing her design block.
    “I’m still sorry.”
    “I tell you what. You wow them at the meeting this morning, and all is forgiven.”
    Farrin chuckled. “Shooting for a spot in the Homemakers Club Hall of Fame?”
    “You know it. Somebody has to top prissy old Loni Mayhew. She thought she was it when she brought in her cousin, who works for Gourmet magazine. Little does Loni know that everyone thought her cousin’s recipes