A little bell adorned with tiny angels chimed above the door of the boutique. It was quite fitting, really, since even the governor’s daughter had ordered her wedding gown from Mrs. Yuzich. Nowhere else in town did they know fashion, fabrics, lace, and ribbons quite like they did in this cozy little corner. The owner of the shop was the epitome of kindness, with just one small flaw—she couldn’t stop talking, no matter how hard she tried.
Every visitor was showered with compliments, attention, and admiration. Take today’s guest, for instance. She wasn’t exactly a beauty, but in a dress crafted by the town’s best seamstress, she transformed into a queen. Mrs. Yuzich hadn’t spent nearly two weeks on the gown for nothing: it had no plunging neckline or over-the-top extravagance that bolder beauties often favored. Instead, it was adorned with several rows of delicate lace, voluminous sleeves stiffened with whalebone, and frilly ruffles that rustled with every step.
“My dear, I can’t take my eyes off you!” Mrs. Yuzich gushed, her words tumbling out in a rush. “That lilac shade suits you so perfectly!”
She hurried over, grabbed the young woman by the elbow, and tugged her toward the mirror, chattering nonstop. For someone else, she might not have gone to such lengths, but this was about an engagement—and not just any engagement, but Jim Cooper’s.
For the past six months, the whole town had been watching Jim Cooper. After a severe injury left him bedridden, he’d barely spoken to anyone and seemed destined to become a reclusive loner. That is, until a new caregiver came along. No one knew exactly what methods Miss Olivia Finch used, but soon enough, her patient was on the mend and even back on his feet.
The local pharmacist often grumbled under his breath about it. Whenever curious folks asked, he’d give the same answer: medical science couldn’t explain a recovery like this! His faith in the power of love was practically nonexistent. Married to his bottles of tonics and powders for stomach aches, Mr. Church kept reminding Cooper to live a quiet, steady life. Peace and nothing but peace! No wine, no rowdy gatherings, even if it was for a wedding or some other nonsense.
But regardless, the injured man recovered quickly and started thinking about changes in his personal life. Now, the soon-to-be groom gazed at his beloved, looking younger than his forty years.
“You’re truly enchanting, Olivia,” he said, stepping closer and standing behind her. “All I’m missing is a smile.”
The young woman sighed, the corners of her full lips lifting slightly. A dimple appeared on her cheek, giving her an innocent yet mischievous look.
“I’m trying. This is a wonderful gift, and I’m honestly so happy, but I can’t help thinking… You know what I mean.”
“Don’t let it get to you!” he said, his face paling a little, though his voice remained firm. “I’ve told you before, what you heard is nothing but gossip! Sweetheart, you can’t believe everything people say.”
“But I saw her with my own eyes, there in the garden…”
Mrs. Yuzich was eavesdropping so intently that she forgot to pretend she was busy. The measuring tape in her hands hung idle, as did the pincushion nearby. Only when the bell above the door jingled, announcing another visitor, did the boutique owner snap back to reality.
“Good afternoon!” A young brunette entered the shop, dressed and styled so impeccably that Mrs. Yuzich couldn’t help but feel an instant fondness for her. The woman looked to be about twenty-five, and no one in town had seen her before. Her sharp eyes scanned the room. “I was told to come here if I wanted to buy some gloves.”
“Oh, how delightful! Please, come in, Mrs…”
“Miss Smith,” the stranger corrected without a hint of embarrassment. Clearly, she was from out of town—only city women her age could walk around so confidently without a wedding ring.
Mrs. Yuzich called for her assistant, and the nimble young girl led the new customer to the counter. The engaged couple, left unattended for a moment, continued whispering to each other and holding hands. It was very touching, Mrs. Yuzich noted to herself, though they both seemed weighed down by something unspoken.
When Mrs. Yuzich returned, Miss Olivia perked up, forced a smile onto her face, and spoke with feigned cheerfulness.
“The dress is absolutely stunning, isn’t it, Jim? I’d love to take it with me right now.”
“Of course, I’ll have it wrapped up for you! Let me help you, the changing room is free!”
The bride-to-be followed Mrs. Yuzich, who obligingly pulled back the heavy curtain and let the young woman go ahead. The poor seamstress was torn in two by curiosity. On one hand, she needed to give the bride her full attention; on the other, she couldn’t help but keep an eye on Miss Smith. Such a pretty, calm, and self-assured young woman piqued her interest. Where was she staying? Who had she come to see? Questions buzzed in Mrs. Yuzich’s mind one after another, until a piercing scream nearly made her jump out of her skin.
Miss Finch burst into the main room, pale as a ghost. She mumbled something incoherent, covering her face with her hands, before rushing toward Mr. Cooper.
“It’s HER, I told you, Jim, she won’t let us! She won’t let us be together! There,” she gestured toward the changing room without daring to look back, “go see the mirror!”
Mr. Cooper struggled to settle his fiancée into a chair before striding purposefully toward the changing room. Mrs. Yuzich was so stunned that she hadn’t moved an inch, though a chill ran down her spine for reasons she couldn’t explain. Mr. Cooper yanked the curtain aside. The soft light from a wall lamp reflected off the gilded frame of the mirror, and on the glass itself… He froze, unable to believe his eyes.
The writing looked freshly scrawled by an invisible hand, red liquid dripping down the glass in uneven streaks.
“You will die!” he read aloud, his grip on his cane so tight that his knuckles turned white. “No, this can’t be real!”
He grew so pale that he frightened Mrs. Yuzich more than the bloody message itself. She let out a gasp, looking around helplessly for assistance, but she was too afraid to step closer. The errand boy had already been sent to fetch a carriage for the guests.
Fortunately, among the stunned onlookers, there was one person who kept her composure. Miss Smith, who had been trying on gloves, approached with quick steps and supported Mr. Cooper from the other side. They needed to get him away from the scene and calm him down.
“My medicine is in my pocket,” he whispered as they cleared a chair of boxes for him to sit. His eyes darted around the room, searching for his fiancée, who was sobbing silently with a handkerchief pressed to her face. “Olivia, don’t worry, I’m fine! It’ll pass soon!”
The others gathered around the shaken man, bringing water, opening a window, and doing their best to soothe him. The curtain was carefully drawn shut to avoid further panic, but fear held everyone in its iron grip for a long while. It took considerable time before the bride, avoiding any glance toward the changing room, agreed to change in the seamstress’s private room. Throughout it all, the assistant stayed by her future husband’s side, earning heartfelt gratitude. Her quiet voice and gentle demeanor calmed everyone as effectively as any medicine. The fact that this stranger hadn’t fainted from the horror was impressive in itself.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Olivia said as she returned to the main room. “I was so overwhelmed. Is there any excuse for me, knowing Mr. Cooper has a weak heart? But all this mystery…”
“Just don’t think about it. You’re safe now, aren’t you? I’m sure there’s an explanation for this. Maybe someone has a twisted sense of humor?”
“Do you really think so?” Miss Finch couldn’t fathom how anyone could be so nonchalant about something like this. “I wish I had nerves like yours! Everything seems less terrifying with you around.”
Mrs. Yuzich couldn’t stay silent and joined her client, offering ten times as many words of thanks.
“Oh, please, I didn’t do anything special!” Miss Smith shook the hand of her new acquaintance, who immediately protested.
“No, no, don’t downplay what you’ve done! I insist, please join us for dinner tonight! I have so much to tell you. We’ll be expecting you on Diver Street.”
“Well… I’ve only just arrived and don’t have any plans yet, so if you’re sure you trust me…”
“I’ll be waiting at six!” Olivia placed a hand on her fiancé’s arm and disappeared through the boutique door.
As soon as they left, Mrs. Yuzich seemed like a different person. Her obliging smile vanished, replaced by a wary glance toward the changing room, as if a ghost capable of writing in blood might seep out at any moment. To make matters worse, the seamstress added fuel to the fire—according to her, the newspaper had reported on a maniac who’d recently escaped from jail. Rumor had it he targeted young blondes. Could Miss Finch already be in his sights?
“May I?” Miss Smith interrupted with a loud whisper. “I just want to check something.”
Both women watched with bated breath as the bold visitor casually pulled back the curtain and stepped into the changing room. The lamp’s light flickered, casting uncertain shadows that hinted at a presence. It was so quiet that Mrs. Yuzich could hear her own heartbeat, and she eventually had to look away. Meanwhile, the guest closely examined the writing, which had already begun to dry. There was little pleasant about seeing something like this while trying on a dress, but something immediately struck her as odd. To test her hunch, she pulled a handkerchief from her purse and tried to wipe the message away. Returning to the main room, she shared something that left Mrs. Yuzich speechless.
“May I ask you something? Do you have any competitors—someone who might want to see ‘Lily’ shut down?”
“What are you talking about? Oh… well, maybe. There are a few other seamstresses, but my boutique is the best!” She batted her eyelashes. “Do you really think one of them could have done this?”
“I can’t say for sure, except for one thing. This isn’t blood. Come, I’ll show you.” Mrs. Yuzich shook her head vigorously, and the guest had to abandon the idea. “Alright, fine. In short, the writing has dried and started to crack. Only paint behaves like that—say, the kind used on plaster or wood. I dabbled in painting for a while, so you can trust me on this, though… if I were you, I’d notify the police just to be safe.”
Mrs. Yuzich, stunned by the suggestion, grabbed the nearest fashion magazine to fan herself. What an outrage! Wasn’t it bad enough that she was a foreigner, never considered equal by these amateurs? Force her to close ‘Lily’? Never! She muttered to herself, though she found it far more agreeable to battle competitors than supernatural entities.
“I just wonder how they did it. Sneaked in through the back door while I was busy with Miss Finch? But they’d have to climb to the second floor! And paint… I don’t know anyone in town who paints! Unless…”
Miss Smith waited. Mrs. Yuzich exchanged a glance with her assistant, whose eyes widened in realization.
“You mean our restorer? No way!” The assistant waved off the idea. She’d seen the artist herself—a very handsome and friendly man with impeccable manners.
“I was just thinking,” Mrs. Yuzich continued hesitantly. “There’s a very old church in town, and we raised funds for its restoration. The man in charge of that is… what’s his name? Oh, I think it’s Mr. West! Maybe someone stole paint from him!”
“Perhaps…” Miss Smith listened attentively, not interrupting once. “I haven’t seen your church yet, so that’ll be interesting for me to check out.”