CHAPTER 8
“Señora Sánchez?” Rosalind called as she stepped out the door of the posada. What a great stroke of luck to find her sitting outside in a wrought-iron chair, her pattern books strewn across a matching table, enjoying the sunshine.
The seamstress looked up from the christening gown she was stitching. “Hola, Rosalinda,” the woman greeted her with a sunny smile and a little wave. Her golden-brown hair gleamed in the sunlight and her thimble flashed. “What can I do for you? And please, call me Julia.”
“Julia, then.” Rosalind returned the grin with a genuine smile. “Do you have time to make me a wedding dress?” she asked, and the framing of the question caused her heart to pound with excited joy.
“Congratulations!” The seamstress clapped her hands with delight. “When do you need i
