When Girlfriends Chase Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

crazy person for six months!” Sophie’s pitch becomes high. “I’m sure he’s on auto-pilot when it comes to a lot of this planning stuff.” That could be true , I think.
    “You’ve got me to help,” Sophie continues. “And you’re meeting that new planner. So don’t stress so much. One day at a time.”
    I blow a collection of bubbles sitting atop my kneecap. “You’re right.”
    “Of course I am,” Sophie says proudly. “And as for your drapery conundrum—”
    “Those drapes have been made for Chanfield!”
    “It’s fabric, Claire. Get over it. Stop being so dramatic.”
    I feel like a change of topic, because thinking about that pile of burlap and tulle that’s soon to suffocate Conner in his workspace just depresses the hell out of me. It’s not the fact that I spent a couple hundred bucks on that project (because with Dad paying it’s not that troubling), but it’s the time. It’s the painstaking hours upon hours of time I spent at that sewing machine and design board. And for what? Nothing?
    Even more so, it’s the fact that those drapes would be so lovely at Chanfield. I have this vision—and it’s a really good one—of hanging one set of drapes at the fence entry that’s in the patio, backyard area of the grounds. The drapes would be completely drawn, with me and my dad, arm-in-arm on one side, and an awaiting Conner and entire audience on the other. Then, the string quartet that I imagine having (but can’t quite find yet) would strike up Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” or maybe that classical wedding song. The drapes would be pulled back and voilà! On my way to get married!
    The other set of drapes has already been planned to be set up at the other end of the altar, utilizing the gorgeous arch and nearby trellis at Chanfield. There would be baby’s breath bouquets and maybe spray roses or something of that ilk decorating the arch. Oh, how amazing it would look with burlap and tulle. Maybe even lace, like the kind you see patterned on doilies. But with a church wedding written in the stars, my drapery dreams will probably be quashed.
    “Changing topic,” I tell Sophie. I’m sure I’m wearing a small scowl. Wedding planning should be fun. Thinking of dashed drapery hopes is anything but. “How’s the biz going?”
    Sophie’s a spectacular baker. And a really good cook, too. But baking is her real forte. She even went to Paris for an entire summer (last summer, when Conner took me), so she could buff up on her professional baking techniques. She learned how to make tons of things, including those darling little pastel cookies that you see everywhere in Paris. Macaws or something. You know, the typical Parisian specialty that you see in all of those Paris-based chick flicks. She’s gotten really good with marzipan, too, making all sorts of shapes and calligraphy text with it. I thought she was a master baker before. Now she’s a regular Chef…well, I can’t think of any famous French chefs. But she’s like the French equivalent to Wolfgang Puck. But a Seattle chef.
    Anyway, she’s amazingly talented and has always dreamed of opening up her own bakery/café. In fact, she’s already found a space to rent. It’s a really neat retro kind of building over in Capitol Hill, one of our favorite neighborhoods. Seattle’s dotted with several neighborhoods, each with their own unique character. Capitol Hill is a bit eclectic, with artsy shops, diverse eateries, and some edgy bars and clubs. It’s a neighborhood with a great vibe—youthful and fun, and it’s the perfect place for Sophie to open up The Cup and the Cake.
    “So you still want me to come help you out soon to throw up some paint?” I ask, eager to help.
    I’ve enjoyed getting to test out different cupcake recipes (which will be her shop’s specialty) with Sophie over the years, and in particular over the past few months while she’s been trying to nail down her premiere menu. I’m definitely ready for her to