"How could this be-?"
The woman standing nearby was visibly anxious. Although she thought Gwh looked almost perfect in the dress-better, in fact, than any of the models they''d hired—she couldn''t help but worry. The models were all willowy and thin, but none of them could fill out the fabric with the same graceful elegance as Gwh.
Both women seemed tense, waiting for Hawthorne''s verdict.
This boutique had been a family legacy for generations, one of the many businesses under the Everhart name. Hawthorne was now the 106th generation to carry the torch. The woman had devoted over a decade of her life to this ce, and earning her boss''s approval was the pinnacle of her career.
Hawthorne gently took Gwh''s hand, his voice calm but his eyes alight with warmth. "How could it not be? You look stunning. Pick out a few more you like- there''s no rush, we have all the time in the world."
He''d cleared his schedule for the day, deciding to spend it entirely with Gwh.
Relief finally softened the woman''s features. She hovered close by as Gwh browsed, only rxing when Gwh had chosen six dresses and insisted she didn''t want any more.
Without missing a beat, Hawthorne gestured to an entire rack of tailored gowns. "Box up the whole collection-styles for spring, summer, fall, and winter. That should be about three garment bags. Have them delivered to my ce this afternoon."
Gwh''s eyes widened in shock. She tugged gently at his sleeve.
"That''s really not necessary. You already sent so many to my housest time—I''ll never get through them all!"
Honestly, even if she wore a new dress every single day, it would take her three years to work through his gifts. This was starting to feel less like shopping and more like wholesale distribution.
“It''s alright. These are all from the family''s own collection. If you ever want more, you can juste by and pick them out."
Gwh was speechless for a moment, trying to process what he''d said. "Wait a second-do you mean this boutique belongs to the Everharts?”
Hawthorne tapped her nose affectionately. "That''s right. Not just clothing either-we have a hand in tea, porcin, art restoration pretty much every traditional craft you could think of, we''ve kept it going."
Gwh blinked, her admiration for him deepening into genuine awe.
Over thousands of years, so many people had abandoned their heritage in pursuit of fleeting trends,
discarding the treasures passed
down by their ancestors. But
ve
Hawthorne had chosen to preserve them, generation after generation. The care and dedication behind that choice was truly rare.
"Keep this one on," he said, nodding at the elegant dress she wore. "It''s perfect on you-no need to change."
His young wife looked ethereal, her dark hair cascading like silk and the simple, form-fitting gown highlighting her silhouette. Even the saleswoman couldn''t help but steal another nce.
Just then, Hawthorne''s phone rang. He answered, holding it to his ear.
"Mr. Everhart, the two tickets you ordered for tonight''s concert are ready. I''ve sent them to your phone."
It was his assistant. Hawthorne replied with his usual calm, “Thank you."
After hanging up, he turned to Gwh. "We''ll have lunch at the Grand Theatre, and this afternoon there''s a performance by a world-ss singer. I''ve already bought us tickets."
Gwh knew just how valuable those tickets were rumor had it scalpers were asking over thirty thousand dors apiece. She was stunned that Hawthorne had even known she''d be interested.
"It''s rare to see someone your age into ssical concerts," the saleswoman chimed in, clearly trying to make conversation. "I thought only us folks pushing forty cared about that sort of thing."
Gwh smiled politely. "Art doesn''t have an age limit. Honestly, I sometimes feel out of step with people my own age."
Take Leonie, for instance-she was obsessed with those collectible figurines, but Gwh just couldn''t see the appeal. She much preferred antiques, paintings, and traditional crafts, anything with a deep sense of history and culture.