A Tailor-Made Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lord really did bring her to Coventry. He supposed if the Almighty could use a woman like Rahab to bring about victory for his people, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities that he could use a dressmaker for some good purpose, as well. Doubtful, but possible.
    Still struggling to believe that she’d finally arrived at her new home, Hannah drank in her first glimpse of Coventry as the wagon rolled by the various storefronts. Two well-dressed men looked up from their conversation in front of a tall limestone building to the right. They nodded a greeting. Hannah smiled back.
    “We just finished that hotel a couple months back,” Mr. Tucker said as he dipped his chin to the men.
    Hope stirred in her. Though Coventry was much smaller than San Antonio, it was growing. A railroad, a new hotel, businessmen coming to town. Businessmen who had wives. Wives who would want fine-tailored dress goods. Yes, there were definitely possibilities here.
    Farther down the street, her optimism waned a bit. As Mr. Tucker dutifully pointed out the locations of the telegraph office, bank, and drugstore, Hannah paid little attention, her interest focused on the ladies who strolled down the boardwalk with shopping baskets on their arms. Their dresses were simple, plain. Did they not care for fashion? Or worse, did they not have funds for dress goods? She was pretty sure her designs would draw them in, but if they had no money to spend . . .
    Hannah’s fingernails jabbed into the skin of her palms. No. She’d not get lost in a pile of what if s again. God brought her to Coventry for a reason. It didn’t matter if the town was small or if its citizens were ordinary folk. She’d planned for that, adapting patterns ahead of time to reflect more practical styles and selecting fabric suitable to small-town life. Besides, it would be a lovely change to sew for people of her own social standing, women she could befriend and chat with as equals. Maybe even Mr. Tucker’s sister.
    Hannah glanced at the grim man driving the rig. He didn’t seem all that friendly, but that didn’t mean his sister would share his reticence. Then again, she’d probably be grumpy, too, if she’d just found out the shop she wanted had been given to someone else.
    The horses slowed to a stop, and all at once, her concerns blew away on the wind. They had arrived.
    Stomach fluttering, Hannah gazed upon the simple clapboard structure that represented her future. It had a lovely false front and windows facing the street. Ideas blossomed as she considered where she should position the mannequins to best be seen by passersby and which dresses she would use to entice them into her shop. Perhaps the lavender morning dress or the olive polonaise costume she made up last month. Both reflected the latest styles and techniques while not inhibiting everyday duties. No sheaths that wrapped so snugly around the knees that a woman had to take mincing steps. No flowing trains to collect dirt and mud from the unpaved roads and country lanes. Minimal use of silks and velvets or any fabric that wouldn’t hold up to normal wear in a western town.
    “Do you want a hand down or not?”
    Hannah jumped at the growling voice, caught up as she was in the intricate web of her business strategies.
    “Oh! Of course.” Heat warmed her cheeks. She stood and set a foot atop the raised side of the wagon, then reached out to the irascible Mr. Tucker. Her hands pressed against the corded muscles of his shoulders at the same time his encircled her waist. A frisson of awareness coursed through her as she sunk slowly to the ground, secure in his capable grip. This close, she could smell a bit of horse on him mixed with harness oil. Masculine scents.
    “Thank you.” She avoided his penetrating gaze and fumbled with the ball clasp on her handbag. “I’ll just get the key and unlock the front door.”
    Hannah extracted a nickel-plated key from the pocket in the lining of her purse and stepped onto