I bypass the small strip mall clothing stores, knowing I can get way more for my money at the thrift shop on the other side of town. People don’t realize there are actually good clothes in thrift shops. You just have to know how to find them.
When I get out of the truck, I don’t bother looking around. Nobody I know would be caught dead coming to a place like this. I go inside. I may be in a secondhand shop, but the feeling I get perusing the rows and rows of clothing is hard to describe. Or maybe it isn’t. It feels like freedom. Freedom to pick out what I want and wear it when I choose without anyone telling me what or when to do it. I take my time and enjoy every second.
An hour later, I hand the middle-aged cashier sixty-nine dollars and fifty cents, and he stuffs twelve shirts, three pairs of pants, a skirt, and two pairs of shoes into a bag. Some of them still have the tags on them—never worn! I even found a hair straightener for a buck. The lodge has plenty of hair dryers, but no straighteners. Oh, how I’ve missed mine.
One thing I don’t have to buy is a cowboy hat. Good thing, because even here, they’re expensive. The first thing Maddox McBride did after greeting me was take me to a room in the stable with riding gear and hats. He made me pick one out. Said his grandmother, who used to own this ranch, had a rule that everyone wore a cowboy hat. I pretty much grew up in Texas and never had occasion to wear one. His wife, Andie, said the one I picked fit me so well, she insisted I keep it.
On my way out the door, I see a table-top sewing machine on a table of random things. The man behind the counter sees me admiring it. “You know what that is?” he asks.
It’s hard not to remember the days I spent using one like this. I remove the cover. Well, not just like this. The ones I used were pieces of crap. This one, while old, has some bells and whistles. “Sure do.”
He comes out from behind the counter. “Not many people your age have even seen one of these, not to mention used one. I’ll sell it to you for ten dollars.”
The price marked is twenty-five. “Really? Does it work?”
“Sure does. Try it if you like. Can’t seem to get rid of it. It’s just taking up space. My wife insisted someone would buy it, but it’s been here for damn near a month.” He picks up a bag full of thread and other sewing accessories. “I’ll even throw these in.” He looks over his shoulder. “Don’t tell June if you see her, deal?”
I think of how Aaron wouldn’t take the money. It’ll still be on the table when I return. Maybe there’s another way to repay him.
“Ten dollars, you say?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll take it.” I pull a ten from my wallet and hand it over.
“You want to try it out first?”
I shake my head. “If you say it works, I believe you.” At the last second, I notice something else on the table. “I’ll take this as well.” I pick up the book and hand the man two quarters.
He carries the sewing machine to the truck for me. “You get home and have any problems with it, you come see me, not the wife, capisce?”
“I’m sure it will work just fine. Thank you.”
In the truck, I open the bag full of thread, happy to see it contains everything I need. More guests are arriving tomorrow afternoon. That should give me plenty of time to accomplish my task.
I still have three hundred dollars. More, if you count the money Aaron wouldn’t take. I’m saving it. That money, along with what’s left on my Lone Star Card, could come in real handy if I have to leave. I’m not foolish enough to believe this gig will last forever. Someone will recognize me. The other shoe will inevitably drop. The only question is when.
Back at the lodge, I carry the sewing machine into my room. It barely fits on the small desk in the corner. I spill the contents of the sewing bag on my bed and sift through it for the right color thread. Then I go to the supply closet and gather what I need.
It takes me a while to figure out the machine. It has a button in place of a foot pedal. I’ve never used one like this. I do, however, like the bobbin being visible versus inside the machine. It allows me to see how much thread remains. I’m excited about doing a job I once came to dread.
I practice on one of my old shirts and mess up a few times, but it all comes back to me.
Three hours later, I’m staring at my hard work when my stomach tenses. I did all of them. What if he hates it? What if I just cost the lodge hundreds of dollars if he insists on replacing them? I pick up a towel and run my hand over the stitching. Maybe I should have only done one and run it past him.
It’s too late to second-guess myself now. I take the towels to each guest suite. I’m finishing up in the last room when Aaron says, “There you are.”
I straighten the towel and hold my breath. “What do you think?”
He removes it and traces the blue DHR I stitched into it. “Where in the hell did you find these?”
“I made them. I mean, I embroidered them.”
He picks up the hand towel next to the sink with matching embroidery and compares the two. “Jesus, Devyn, you got the logo dead on. These are incredible.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that, because I did them all.”
“I love them, but how did you have the time?”
“I picked up a used sewing machine at the secondhand store.”
“To make your own clothes?”
“No, to do this. I saw the machine, thought of the plain white towels, and figured it would give them some character.”
“How much did you pay for it?”
“Hardly anything,” I say. “The guy practically gave it to me.”
He pulls money from his back pocket. “You left this in the kitchen, and I wanted to give it back to you. Now I feel it’s not enough.”
I try and control my excitement as I tuck the bills into my pocket. “How about we call it even?”
“No way, because now that I’ve seen what you can do, I want more.” He crosses to the bed and picks up a pillow covered in a white pillow sham. “Can you do the same with this?”
“Of course. In fact, why don’t I replicate the entire Devil’s Horn Ranch brand on these?”
“You mean the horns and everything? You can do that?”
I nod. “It would look really classy.”
He stares me down. “I think you’re really classy.”
I laugh. “Nobody has ever called me that.”
“I’m serious, Devyn. I have no idea what happened to you before you came here, but you’re a real class act, and I don’t say that lightly. You have a fantastic work ethic. Everyone at the ranch loves you. You’re pretty much the whole package.”
My cheeks flush. I’m not used to getting compliments. In fact, quite the opposite. Put-downs and denigrations are all I’ve gotten. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I start for the door.
His hand on my arm stops me. “I think I do.”
He gazes at me longer than anyone has ever gazed at me. It’s like he’s talking with his eyes, telling me all the things I’ve never heard a man say outside of my dreams. I try to push down these feelings I have for him. They’re too intense. Also exciting and confusing. Maybe it’s because he’s the first man who’s been nice to me, not counting Mr. Choi or Joe, who are both decades older than I am.