CHAPTER 3

　　The workers filed in a straight line at Winters' Apparel. They were roughly twenty in numbers, and were styled in bright cotton outfits. They had a touch of despair clouding their mannerisms. It was evenly noted in the way they stood, with complete abandon.

　　Jake Winter stood in front of them holding a silk blue scarf upwards like it was some antique item. His eyes were half-closed and he seemed intent on keeping it that way. It was quite evident that he was bored. Yet, he had no option but to continue with his speech. 

　　"Today, we would be creating scarfs using crochet. This blue silk scarf I'm holding was made by my wife, Adeline, before her passing. Bless her. Its simplicity has been found wanting in our new works. I think that explains why we've been losing customers in rapid succession. I think we need to bring back the raw authenticity of this crochet scarf back. Is that not right, Peach?" He queried, turning his thick grey hair to Peach.

　　Peach was standing at the far left, blue and white wool loosely interlaced through her knitting pin as she knitted in rapid successions. Her mind and soul were not present, but her body was. She kept thinking of the grey-eyed stranger she'd seen a week ago. He was too good to have been a dream. His eyes were what hadn't left her memories. It looked tortured.

　　"Peach!" Jake tried again.

　　Peach looked at her father in confusion. Why was he shouting her name? She wasn't deaf. She could easily hear him from where she stood. There was no need to create a scene every time. The man was overly dramatic sometimes.

　　"Father, what's the matter?" She asked calmly.

　　Her father shook his grey hair at her, his eyes hard like he was annoyed. Had she missed something when she'd been thinking about Shane? She stopped the knitting she'd been doing and moved closer to where the workers were standing. She noticed they were looking at her with open curiosity, not even bothering to mask it. 

　　"My dear girl, I was asking for your affirmation on creating this scarf. It was one of your mother's iconic creations. There is something about it, that I find endearing. It is its simplicity, that is. I thought about ways to move this industry forward, and I realised we need to retrace our steps to the key fundamentals of our textile industry. That would be simplicity." Jake stated with a flourish.

　　Peach looked at the scarf in question. She'd seen it before, on one of her father's many boxes. She hadn't known it was one of her mother's creations. It was so simple, bothering on a plain. It was not something people may be taken to at this apex in the fashion industry. 

　　"Father, I think it's a good initiative." She started, making her father beam in pride. "But, it's too bland. People love materials that bring beauty to their environment, irrespective of their fashion sense. I think, while keeping the simplicity, we should create a style that is ours which is infused to the design, so we can stand out and not meld in the crowd." She pointed out, carefully.

　　Her father stared at her for a while, lowering the hand that he'd risen so fiercely downward. His dark eyes looked at the scarf once more, and she knew he was thinking about what she'd said. It was how they were as a family. Though, she felt bad for pointing it out in front of the workers, because she knew that they could easily misinterpret the gesture, belittling her father's intellect in the process. That, she wouldn't want, for her father was a very intelligent man.

　　Peach watched as Jake turned the crochet back and forth, like it was a lab rat. She was almost certain he might dismiss his idea with a frown tugged at the side of his lips. What would that stranger say if he'd been here? Oh! Stop thinking about him! Focus!

　　Jake finally looked up from the scarf, the frown was replaced by a smile. His eyes weren't half-closed anymore, but sharp and piercing. "I must confess I had not thought about it that way. It could be that I'm still sentimental about this scarf. It would forever be iconic to me," He said fiercely. 

　　Then, his grey eyes rested on Pearl's green ones. "You're right, Peach Winter. We would keep the simplicity, but make it an edge to boost the business to greater heights. I agree that it was originally my idea, but with the turn of events, I think Peach should be the one to lead you through. Her ideas are consistent with the ongoing trend. Now, don't look so forlorn, there is a lot of work to do." He shot out fiercely.

　　Peach blinked twice. She looked at her father, who seemed very pleased with his decision for he was beaming from ear to ear. Till yesterday, the man had handled all of these on his own. He only came to her for affirmations or to unleash thousands of materials that needed to be worked on. Now, he was handling the reins over to her. Albeit, it was a small part of the work, she felt dizzy.

　　"Peach, congratulations!" Tina, one of their senior workers said loudly.

　　Tina seemed to have opened the floor, and more congratulatory messages streamed in. Peach mumbled her thanks, and they all left her unimpressed. Her father dismissed them, and she knew they'd gone back to whatever they'd been doing before. She needed to talk to her father, there was so much to say.

　　"Father, could you spare me a bit of your time?" Peach said quietly.

　　Jake turned to his only daughter. She was his first child, his pride, but the girl didn't take pride in her abilities. Sighing, he took the yarn he'd fuse in his machine to make a clean velvet. 

　　"Yes, you can." He said calmly.

　　Peach walked closer to him, trying her best not to sound too despondent. "I'm not sure I can handle this job father. You know how I am. The people in this community don't like me one bit. How do you expect me to lead them?" She queried.

　　Her father said nothing. He took his time unrolling the yarn and fixing it at various parts of the equipment, his back bending dangerously close to a sharp needle. It didn't pierce him, but Peach worried he may get hurt if he wasn't careful.

　　"Father, pull back. You could hurt yourself. There's a needle over there." She warned.

　　He did as she said, and turned his full gaze on her. "You're worried about my safety, but you're not worried about my standing in society." He accused.

　　"How could you say that, father? You know I'm worried about everything that concerns you." She shot out in disbelief.

　　He shook his head. "Is that so?" 

　　"Yes," She affirmed.

　　"Then make this industry great again. I need you very much. You're my last resort to turn this company into what it used to be. We're sinking Peach. I'm afraid if it continues like this we would lose everything. " He said quietly.

　　Peach chewed on her lower lip, her spine going stiff in anxiety. Her father was right they were sinking, but still, she had no passion for the textile industry. She'd indeed grown amidst the wools, yarns, threads, pins, and dyes, but she'd never thought she would take over.

　　"Dad, it would be fine. But, try to understand me. I want to work. I'd like to have my place in life. These people don't value me or my work. I can't let them keep looking down on me, father." She tried to reason with him.

　　He pulled her hair behind her ears softly. It was a way to say she was still naive and thinking in a one-word train. His hands were rough thanks to decades of work. Her father had truly gotten older.

　　"Do you not see that they will be forced to listen to you now? You're more precious than you give yourself credit for. And, Peach, stop listening to the chaff, listen to what your heart says. Give yourself a chance, Peach. I'm counting on you." Jake said softly.

　　"But, father…"

　　"Don't say another word." He said firmly. He grabbed the blue wool scarf from his working table and held it forward. "Take this. You would need it as a map for what you need." He said softly, stalling her words.

　　Peach sighed as she took it from his hands. "I will try my best, but this is only temporary. The moment I find a job, I will take a bow from all these." 

　　Jake grunted in response. He went back to his duties while she walked away from him. It was so easy to fall back in line and do all her father wished for, but that would never bring her true happiness. She looked at the scarf enclosed in her right hand with trepidation. Her mother had made this. She'd said a lot of grand words, now it was time to walk the talk, and she was clueless about what to do. 

　　The stranger had advised her not to walk up to strangers at every moment. She'd been defensive then, but it was almost in line with what she'd done today. She could have just told her father that his idea was perfect, but her mouth never did as it was told.

　　She looked around the industry. Every worker had something doing. They were either knitting or creating embroideries. Her father had stopped the main textile production for a while because no one was buying the materials and it was gathering dust in lockers where it was stored. Now, things were going to change. He'd given her the hardest task. It was the creative aspect of textile production. The question was, could she do it?

　　"Peach, I knew I would find you here. You've been avoiding me since last Friday. What you did, leaving me halfway was so painful!" Marilyn shouted.

　　Peach turned towards her. She hadn't noticed her and felt completely embarrassed as the workers turned their attention to them. Marilyn was dressed in leather, her dark hair falling wildly on her shoulders. She was as wild as her dressing. Couldn't she tone it down?

　　"Come, let's talk outside." Peach said stiffly as she walked out.