When my stepsister asked me to sew six custom bridesmaid dresses, I agreed, hoping it might bring us closer. I spent $400 from our baby fund on materials. But when I delivered the dresses, she dismissed my work as a “gift” and laughed when I asked to be paid. Karma, however, had perfect timing.
The call came on a Tuesday morning while I was bouncing my four‑month‑old son, Max, on my hip.
“Amelia? It’s Jade. I desperately need your help.”
I shifted Max to my other arm, wincing as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. “What’s going on?”
“You know I’m getting married next month, right? Well, I’m having a nightmare finding bridesmaid dresses. I’ve been to twelve boutiques, and nothing looks good on all six girls. Different body types, you know? Then I remembered—you’re incredible with that sewing machine. Your work is professional quality.”
“Jade, I’m not really…”
“Could you possibly make them? Please? I mean, you’re home anyway, and I’d pay you really well, of course! You’d literally be saving my entire wedding.”
Jade and I had never been close—we had different mothers and different lives. But she was family. Sort of.
“I haven’t done professional work since Max was born. How much time do I have?”
“Three weeks? I know it’s tight, but you’re so talented. Remember that dress you made for cousin Lia’s graduation? Everyone was asking who designed it.”
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