It was the day before Christmas, when I next saw the milliner’s daughter. The shop was completely empty and, assuming it was closed, I nearly walked away; but, the milliner’s daughter spotted me through the window and rushed to the door.

With solicitous expediency, she helped me with my cloak and hung it on the wall. A curious sensation washed over my skin–the burning tingle of intent eyes on the back of one’s neck; except, I could feel it on my entire body. “Where’s everyone?” I asked.

“Most orders were delivered yesterday,” the girl explained. “It will be quiet today. Father went home to rest.” She uttered the last sentence with more gravity than required for the simple information she was conveying.

She reached behind the counter and produced a large round box. I opened it and dug through the endless layers of white tissue. When I finally unwrapped my hat, I was breathless. “It’s beautiful,” I said sincerely.

The wide-brim hat was the color of fine wine, unapologetic in its exuberance, with three silk roses in the middle and a single red feather sticking out from the side.

“I wanted it to be beautiful,” the milliner’s daughter said.

I noticed a deep blush on her youthful cheeks.

“I remember seeing you around town since I was a young girl,” she continued. “I remember thinking I’d never see anything as beautiful. I wanted the hat to be just like that. A bold sort of beauty.”

I was left speechless, unable to believe I could be the inspiration for such a beautiful thing, but it went beyond aesthetics. This headpiece reflected myself more than anything I had ever owned. Somehow this young woman had seen me, in a way no-one seemed to see me anymore. “A bold sort of beauty,” I repeated to myself. “Will you try it on?” she asked with endearing eagerness.

I was happy to comply and planted myself in front of the full-length mirror. She stood behind me and put the hat on my head. She didn’t step back, she stayed where she stood, her body almost pressed against mine.

I caught her eyes in the mirror and noticed what I must have known for a while. The look on her face was not one of admiration, as I first assumed. It was something else, and it felt good to be on the receiving end of it.

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