After leaving the dessert shop, Lisbeth nibbled delicately on her fruit tart, her face glowing with pure, contented joy.
But Tulia’s mood was far from so light.
The recent experience felt like a tiny thorn pricking at her heart.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of trouble she simply found such pointless annoyances wearisome.
“Looks like we’ll need to find something more presentable to wear,” she sighed inwardly.
It wasn’t out of vanity, but a necessary disguise a kind of protective coloration to help her and her daughter live in greater peace.
Holding Lisbeth’s hand, she didn’t head toward the bustling, extravagant shops with lavish window displays, but instead stopped on a quiet yet exquisitely refined street, before a door made of polished Redwood.
A petite Brass Sign hung on the door, inscribed in elegant cursive: “Weaver’s Whisper.”
There were no noisy hawkers here, nor dazzling displays of samples. The place resembled a private drawing room more than a shop.
Tulia straightened her collar and knocked gently with the door knocker.
The door slid silently inward, revealing a woman clad in a dark red velvet gown, chestnut curls tumbling carelessly over her shoulders.
She looked to be in her thirties or early forties, carrying that special charm and allure unique to mature women; her smiling eyes were like rich wine, capable of intoxicating with a single glance.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” Her voice was languid yet pleasant, radiating a reassuring warmth. “The wind is strong outside, please, come in.”
She didn’t scrutinize their plain clothes, but welcomed them in with effortless naturalness. That sincere warmth made Tulia’s taut nerves relax considerably.
“At last… a normal person,” Tulia thought to herself.
The shop’s interior was simple yet elegant. Each garment on display was like a work of art, clearly crafted by a master’s hand.
The air was filled with the scent of fine fabric, mingled with a faint fragrance.
“Please, have a seat. Would you like some hot tea?” The proprietress smiled and personally poured them Flower Scented Tea, the aroma wafting through the air.
Amid such warm and genuine hospitality, Tulia set aside her guarded demeanor.
Since the other was also a beauty, there shouldn’t be much trouble.
After a brief hesitation, she slowly reached out and removed her veil.
“……”
As the proprietress introduced the fabrics, her hand paused for a moment when she saw the mother and daughter’s faces.
But her eyes held no hint of jealousy or curiosity only a pure, heartfelt admiration between women.
Her smile grew even brighter, as warm as the sun on an autumn day.
“My goodness,” she murmured, her tone filled with genuine appreciation, “such a beautiful pair of Sister Flowers. You’ve truly brought new life to my humble little shop.”
Hearing herself called “Sister Flowers,” Tulia blushed faintly, smiling in embarrassment as she drew Lisbeth a little closer.
“You flatter us,” Tulia said softly, correcting her with a bit of shyness. “But… this is my daughter.”
“Mm!” Lisbeth agreed affirmatively.
The proprietress’s radiant smile froze in place the instant she heard the word “daughter,” as if petrified by a spell.
Her smiling eyes widened, darting between Tulia’s face which looked scarcely over twenty and Lisbeth’s fully matured, taller frame. For a moment, her mind went blank.
D-Daughter?!
Is this a joke?!
Waves of shock crashed through the proprietress’s mind, a silent storm raging within.
She couldn’t help but think, just who in the world could be lucky enough to have such a mother-daughter pair?
If only she could marry someone as young and beautiful as Tulia she’d live in a mansion and ride a luxurious carriage for that in a heartbeat!
Her brief distraction lasted only a few seconds.
“Ahem.”
Her exceptional professionalism quickly brought her back to herself.
The proprietress cleared her throat, her dazzling, enthusiastic smile returning as if that frozen moment had never happened.
“Oh, what poor eyesight I have! Madam, you’ve maintained yourself so well you and your daughter look exactly alike!” she praised sincerely, then naturally steered the conversation back on track. “So, what can I do for you lovely ladies today? Please, just say the word.”
“We’d like to look at some long dresses, something simple in style,” Tulia explained her needs. “Ready-made is best, since we’re a bit pressed for time.”
“Simple?” The proprietress’s brow furrowed as if pricked by a needle, her face full of “what a waste!” distress.
“No! Absolutely not!” she blurted out instinctively, her tone filled with a designer’s devotion to beauty. “Madam, with your looks and figure, wearing plain clothing is an affront to the Goddess of Beauty! Wasteful! It’s a terrible waste!”
She circled Tulia, growing more excited with each step, like a sculptor who’d discovered the most exquisite jade.
“What you need right now is a custom-made gown, designed to showcase your extraordinary beauty!”
“But we have matters to attend to soon…” Tulia replied helplessly she only wanted something low-key, yet had somehow run into such a dramatic proprietress.
“No problem! No problem!” The proprietress, however, was unwilling to let go of such a perfect “living signboard.” Her eyes flashed as she quickly devised a compromise.
“Ready-made and custom design aren’t mutually exclusive!” She warmly took Tulia’s hand, guiding her to a rack of gorgeous dresses. “You see, we can pick a ready-made dress first. While your lovely daughter tries it on, I’ll just take a moment to measure you. It’ll be quick, I promise it won’t delay your plans!”
Before Tulia could refuse, the proprietress had already fetched an elegant Measuring Tape from the worktable, her face beaming with determined enthusiasm.
“Come now, Madam, just a moment of your time please stand over here.” The proprietress’s warmth left no room for refusal.
“My name is Ilana,” she said cheerfully, deftly unfolding the Measuring Tape as she introduced herself with a playful flourish. “I’m the tailor and owner of this little shop. It’s my honor to serve such beautiful ladies as you.”