“Yes.” Willa clutched her teacup. She and Papa were hardly destitute, but it was hard for her to ask him to spend money on something she’d likely only use once. It seemed a waste, especially when they were coming into the slower winter season and she needed everyday dresses more than something fancy for the ball.
“Well, then, my dear,” Seffi said. “You’ve sat at just the right table, because Vivian here is a dressmaker.”
Vivian nodded, seemingly unconcerned that Seffi was essentially asking her to make a gown from scratch in just over a week. “I’ll need your measurements, but I think I can use a lovely green material I had left over from another order. It wouldn’t cost you a thing.”
“You do like green, don’t you?” Seffi asked, as if this was the most important question. “It would look lovely with your hair.”
Willa stared at them both, hardly able to comprehend what they were offering. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. No one has ever done something like this for me. Please, at least let me pay you something.”
“I won’t hear of it,” Vivian said. “Are you at the hotel? I can come by tomorrow morning to get your measurements.”
Willa nodded. Just last week, she was in the New Mexico Territory, wondering what the next town might bring, and now here she was, being offered the unthinkable. Never mind the chance to attend the dance itself. “Thank you,” she said, meaning the words more than she ever had in her life.
“I’m so glad you’ll go!” Lillian nearly squealed. She drew the attention of the ladies around them, who turned to see what the fuss was about.
“I’ll have my son, Holt, escort you to the dance,” Seffi continued.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of him.” Willa felt her face go warm at the very thought.
“Nonsense. It’ll be good for him to meet a nice girl like you,” Seffi replied.
“He’s very kind,” Lillian whispered. “And handsome. He escorted Thomasina and me last month.”
Before Willa could protest again, Seffi stood. “Well, I must get along back home. It’s been wonderful to meet you, Willa. I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon.”
She left with Vivian at her side. Thomasina came to discuss something she’d learned at the other table with her sister, and Willa sat in stunned silence, trying to figure out how, in the measure of thirty minutes, she’d gained a dress, dance lessons, and a man to escort her to the Matchmaker’s Ball.
When tea was over, she drifted out the door behind the Settles sisters in a daze. And even as she displayed and sold her father’s medicines during the show an hour later, her mind was elsewhere—dancing a flowing waltz in a green dress with a man who looked an awful lot like the doctor who’d promised to run her father out of town.
Chapter Eight
“SIR!” A MAN’S VOICEshouted from behind where Nick sat finishing a late supper at the hotel’s restaurant.
Nick lifted the napkin from his lap and sat it on the table before he turned to see what the commotion was about. He was surprised to find the man—a younger fellow dressed neatly with a shopkeeper’s apron covering his clothing—looking straight at him.
“Sir,” the man said again, hurrying around the table behind Nick. “I hear you’re a doctor.”
