Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy - Janice Lynn Page 0,72

of the stocking. She then did the same for a second piece. When done, she ironed both pieces, pinned them together inside out, then sat down at a machine and stitched them together, while explaining what she was doing to the women. When done, she turned it right side out and folded the top down, revealing a wide swath of the second colored fabric.

“Voila. You have your stocking.” She continued to push against the seams to remove any puckers as she showed the women what she was doing. “But let’s be real. As beautiful as this is, it’s not overly exciting. So, as I mentioned earlier, we could have embroidered a name or a saying across the top prior to attaching the two pieces.” She picked up an example that she’d made earlier. “Or we can add rick-rack or a fuzzy trim.” She picked up further premade samples. “Or you can get creative and come up with your own way of making your stocking fun and unique.”

The next hour passed quickly as the women picked their material, embroidered, sewed, and decorated their stockings.

Maybelle’s forehead scrunched as she stared at Rosie’s stocking. “Did you seriously make a stocking that says, ‘Fourth of July’?”

“What about it?” Rosie flung back.

“Other than that you put a summer holiday on your Christmas stocking?” Maybelle snorted, then cut her eyes to the woman on the other side of her who was happily sewing and had been ignoring her friends’ bickering with the ease of long experience. “Ruby, call Doc Evans tomorrow. We need to get our girl in for a checkup. She’s off her meds again.”

Rosie smiled, pretty as you please. “You’re the one who’s off her meds. I know exactly what I embroidered, and it was intentional.”

“You purposely put America’s Independence Day on your Christmas stocking?” Maybelle arched a brow.

“It may be America’s Independence Day, but it’s my anti-Independence Day. Lou’s, too.” She gave a little laugh and flip of her blue hair. “Not that the lucky devil knows yet, but he will after I give him this.”

“Rosie!” Sophie exclaimed, realizing what her friend was implying.

Understanding dawned in Maybelle’s eyes. “It’s about time you put that man out of his misery.”

“That’s great,” Ruby said. “Being married to the right man is such a blessing, and Lou’s a good one. Not as good as my Charles, mind you, but Lou’s a keeper.”

“I’ll send you my travel agent’s name and number,” Aunt Claudia offered. “You’ll want to start looking at honeymoon spots immediately. I can make a list of travel do’s and dont’s that George and I have picked up over the past year.”

The women continued back and forth. Sophie half-listened, fighting a smile every so often as she helped one of the other ladies attach gold trim to her stocking.

“By the way, Sophie,” Maybelle said, snagging her attention, “Triple B Ranch For Kids called. We’ve added thirty more kids to our list.”

Sophie’s gaze cut to Maybelle’s. “Thirty more kids? At this late date?”

They were already worried about having enough toys and contributions to buy the usual necessities they gave. Adding thirty more kids…Oh, wow.

“Why not?” the older woman asked, clearly not seeing it as a problem. “The ranch asked for help providing their kids with a good Christmas experience. We’ve never turned away anyone asking for help. Why would we start with thirty foster children?”

Rosie, obviously thinking the same thing Sophie was, opened her mouth, then clamped it closed. She and Sophie locked gazes, then both gave little shrugs at the same time.

Maybelle knew about the decreased donations last year. But maybe she knew something they didn’t know and had a reason for not sharing their concerns on having enough gifts for the kids.

Regardless, thirty more kids needed a Christmas morning.

They’d make it work. Somehow.

“Hi,” Sophie said a bit breathily as she climbed into Cole’s Jeep. “Sorry I’m running late. We had several customers, and one needed multiple pieces of material cut. I took care of her order as I didn’t want to leave Isabelle and Thelma in a bind.”

“Not a problem.”

She snuck a look at where he sat in the driver’s seat. He wore a white pullover that loosely hugged his broad shoulders, arms, and chest. She wanted to touch the material, find out for herself if it was as soft as it appeared. The urge was so strong that she slid her hands beneath her legs. Maybe being tucked between her outer thighs and the leather truck seat would help her remember to keep