The hum of sewing machines and soft rustling of fabric had become my lifeline. For three straight days, I'd barely left my studio, pushing myself to perfect every stitch of the new collection. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, but the designs were taking shape beautifully.
"Ms. Shaw? There's a call on line two." My new assistant poked her head through the doorway.
I rubbed my temples. "Take a message."
"It's Ms. Vance. She says it's urgent."
With a sigh, I picked up the phone. "Vera, I'm drowning in fabric right now."
"And I'm drowning in concern for my workaholic best friend," Vera shot back. "You can't hide in that studio forever."
"I'm not hiding. I'm working."
"For seventy-two hours straight? That's not dedication, that's avoidance." Her voice softened. "Look, everyone's meeting at Enigma tonight. No excuses this time."
"Vera—"
"You need this, Hazel. One night to remember you're human. I won't take no for an answer."
