Sairis's POV
Sairis ran his hand across the grey again, then moved to the deep green beside it. Good weight. It would sit well and hold its shape through the cold months.
He touched the cream fabric and found it softer than he expected, light enough for shirts, the kind of thing that would be comfortable through the later months of pregnancy when everything else started to feel like too much.
"This one," he said, touching the grey. "And this." The green. "And two lengths of this for shirts." The cream.
Cheryl was already nodding, already signalling to one of her girls to separate the chosen bolts. She knew how he worked. She had known for years.
"Now," she said, disappearing behind the curtain and reappearing a moment later with a measuring tape around her neck and a handful of pins between her fingers. "Stand up straight for me."
