Six months after we bought the warehouse, the studio opened.
Not the foundation. That would take another year. But the studio—my new studio, the one I'd been dreaming about since I was a girl standing in my mother's workroom—was ready.
The day of the opening, it rained.
Hard. The kind of rain that made you want to stay inside.
"This is a sign," Vanessa said, looking out the window.
"It's weather," I said. "Not a sign."
"Pessimist."
"Realist."
Julian came up behind me. Put his hands on my shoulders.
"People are going to come," he said.
"What if they don't?"
"Then we have a party anyway." He kissed my ear. "Just us."
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They came.
Brides. Vendors. Friends I hadn't seen in years. Lena's new girlfriend. Vanessa's therapist. Even Helen, in a bright yellow dress that made everyone
