Chapter 3

I lugged the sewing machine and my bag of stuff out of the military compound.

Behind me, Helen's smug laughter rang out, mixed with the neighbors whispering and pointing.

I didn't look back.

This place held too much pain and heartbreak from my past life, and I never wanted to lay eyes on it again.

I found the cheapest place in town, a little hostel that only cost one dollar a day.

The room was tiny, just a bed and a table, but for the first time in ages, I felt truly free.

Lying on the creaky wooden bed, I started thinking about what to do next.

It was 1975.

This was a time when anything could happen.

In my last life, I let all my skills and talents go to waste, trapped in that tiny courtyard for Andrew's sake.

I learned to sew from my mom, who was the most famous tailor for miles around. By sixteen, I could make a proper single-breasted jacket all by myself.

This time, I wasn't going to waste my life.

I would survive with my own skills and I would live better than anyone else.

As for money...

I turned my pockets inside out. All I had left were a few loose coins.

The one hundred dollars I handed back to Andrew came from pawning the only pair of diamond earrings my mom left me. I did it quietly, on the very first day I got my second chance at life.

That was the only thing she ever left me.

A sharp pain stabbed at my heart, but I forced it down.

Mom, I promised I would get those earrings back, no matter what it took.

First things first, I needed to make some money.

I took my precious sewing machine and made my way to the town's biggest department store.

In those days, there were barely any styles, and what little there was looked outdated. Any girl with a bit of taste would rather buy fabric and sew her own clothes, or go find a tailor to do it for her.

The fabric counter was always the busiest spot in the whole store.

I found the woman in charge of the counter, a chubby lady in her forties named Patricia Walsh.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I'm Grace Linwood, a tailor," I said, cutting right to the chase.

Patricia sized me up, her gaze appraising. "What can I do for you, young lady?"

"How about we partner up?" I said, pointing at the display pieces hanging behind the counter. "These outfits are way too outdated.

"I can make fresh samples for you to show off here. If someone likes my designs and buys fabric from you, we split the tailoring fee. I get seventy, you get thirty."

That kind of proposal was pretty bold for those days.

Patricia blinked, clearly surprised. "You sure talk big, girl. This is a store. Why would we partner with a nobody like you?"

"Because of my skills," I said, and pulled out a shirt I'd made myself from my bag.

It was a women's blouse I'd reworked, frilly ruffles on the collar and cuffs, and a cinched waist that really showed off a woman's figure.

Nothing like this existed back then.

Patricia's eyes lit up instantly.

She picked up the shirt, turning it over again and again. The more she looked, the more excited she got.

"You...you made this?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"The craftsmanship, these stitches damn," Patricia muttered, clearly impressed. She could see right away this shirt was top-notch.

She hesitated.

Honestly, this deal was all upside for her. She'd get a cut of the tailoring fees right in her own pocket, and my fresh designs would pull in more customers, helping her sell more fabric and look good at work.

"Ma'am, just give me a corner and a table for my sewing machine. Let's try it for one day. If I don't get a single customer, I'll pack up and leave, no trouble for you," I pressed, eager to seal the deal.

Patricia hesitated for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Alright, Grace, I'll trust you this once!"

And just like that, I had my very first booth in the department store, a little corner that was all mine.

I hung up the sample shirt I'd brought in the most prominent spot, and it instantly caught the attention of every girl passing by.

"Wow, that shirt is gorgeous!"

"The collar is so unique!"

"Hey, how much is that shirt?"

I smiled and explained, "This is just a sample. If you like it, you can buy fabric from the store, and I'll make one for you, just pay for the tailoring."

A young girl in a polyester shirt was instantly hooked. She grabbed a piece of the trendiest floral fabric and became my very first customer.

Right there in front of the crowd, I measured her, cut the fabric, and got to work at my sewing machine.

My hands moved with practiced ease, and the sewing machine tapped out a lively, rhythmic beat under my feet.

Less than two hours later, I finished a fresh, ruffled floral blouse.

The girl slipped on the new blouse and spun around in front of the mirror several times, her eyes shining with pure excitement and satisfaction.

Everyone around started gasping and whispering in amazement. "Oh my gosh, this is gorgeous! It fits like a dream!"

And just like that, my business was officially up and running.

I was so busy all day. I didn't even have time to grab a drink. Orders were already piling up, and I was booked solid for the next three days.

By the time we closed up shop and I counted the money, I'd already made over 20 dollars just from deposits alone.

Patricia was grinning from ear to ear. She sealed the deal right then and there. We'd split the tailoring fees fifty-fifty, and she even gave me a larger, more spacious spot in the store.

With the first money I'd earned in my hands, I walked back to the hostel, feeling truly grounded for the first time in ages.

It turned out that relying on myself felt incredible.

What I didn't realize was that, just down the street from the department store, parked at an intersection in an army jeep, Andrew was sitting there, quietly taking it all in.