Excited by the promise of a new order, Evangeline felt as though the entire week of rejection had been washed away in an instant. At last, a chance. She clutched at the thought like a lifeline, imagining her lace in the hands of someone important— perhaps a noble— the delicate patterns catching their eye. If that happened, surely word would spread. Surely more customers would come. Perhaps her work would finally find the place it deserved.
Lost in these hopeful thoughts, she walked lightly down the street until she neared Madam Trevor's house. There, at the gate, stood Milo.
He lingered before the door like a shadow unwilling to cross the threshold, his shoulders bent, his face somber. The sight startled her— he looked so unlike his usual self, so troubled. And in her excitement, she forgot to hesitate. She lifted her hand high, her voice carrying with a brightness that came naturally to her lips:
"Milo!"
