The garage went silent.
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I blinked. That wasn’t quite what I’d expected.
My eyes traveled around the garage.
There were boxes of colorful fabric, sewing supplies, and several half-finished dresses hanging from racks.
Then I spotted my favorite blue dress.
And along the opposite wall stood nearly every pair of shoes I’d been searching for.
“There goes the surprise.”
But the strangest sight was the furniture.
Half-built wooden shelves covered one wall, while several tall cabinets stood nearby.
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Wesley was holding an electric drill.
For several seconds, nobody spoke. Finally, my husband lowered the drill and sighed.
“Well. There goes the surprise.”
“I’m a seamstress.”
I stared at him.
“What on earth is happening here?”
The oldest woman stepped forward.
“I’m Patricia. I’m a seamstress. This is Olivia, our designer, and Denise, who helps with the sewing.”
“Hello,” I managed.
“Your husband hired us.”
