Chapter 10 - The Design of ForeverThe wedding was nothing like the high-society galas of Manhattan, and everything our hearts had ever longed for.
We held it in late November, right beneath the golden branches of the apple orchard behind our home. There were no corporate executives, no tabloid journalists, and no snooty board members whispering behind cupped hands.
There were only sixty people: our neighbors from the valley, Mateo and our friends from the Greenwich Village bakery, Mrs. Gable wearing her Sunday best, Eleanor Sterling smiling proudly with tears in her eyes, and Chloe—now seven years old—serving proudly as our flower girl.
Chloe wore a hand-stitched emerald dress matching mine, and on her feet, shining brightly beneath her white tights, were the iconic glossy red shoes with the gold star-shaped buckle.
As we stood beneath a wooden arch draped in white pine and winter roses, the local justice of the peace pronounced us husband and wife.
When Vance leaned down to kiss me, the applause of our small, chosen family echoed across the valley, carried away on the crisp, clean autumn wind.
Later that evening, during the reception under the glowing string lights in the orchard, Chloe climbed onto a wooden chair with her heavy leather sketchbook in hand. She cleared her throat loudly, tapping a spoon against her water glass until everyone turned to look at her.
“Attention, everyone!” she announced, standing up straight with the air of a true lead designer. “As the co-founder of Morales & Sterling Fashion, I would like to unveil our very first official collection.”
She flipped open her sketchbook and held up a page filled with vibrant, beautifully colored designs: emerald-green dresses with red ribbons, cozy wool winter coats, and, right at the center, a brand-new sketch of a pair of red leather shoes with a gold star.
Below her drawing, in neat, careful seven-year-old handwriting, she had written: For girls who look through store windows and know they can build the world inside.
May you like
Vance pulled me close against his side, his arm wrapped securely around my waist as we looked down at our daughter, and then out across the lights of our home, our bakery, and our life.
We hadn't needed a rescue. We had simply needed each other to find out what real magic looked like.
