"These are treasures, mom," Angie said as her eyes feast on the myriad of furniture, boxes, and trinkets in the cramped attic. Dust and cobwebs everywhere. Mrs. Hernandez coughed as they make their way through the piles of boxes and furniture lying on the floor.

"Really? I never thought you will be into this stuff?" Mrs. Hernandez replied skimming through the boxes and wardrobe. "How and when did you think about this?" Eyeing her daughter wondering how her attitude changed when she had been encouraging her for the last few years with no avail.

"Thanks to Vince," arching her brow.

"Really?! How come?" her mom looked at her from head to toe. She was wondering what came into her after the trip from Paris.

"He asked me to help him in disposing of his late fiancee's properties. He also told me his fiancee loved to donate and help a charitable cause. That's when I thought of creating an event so we can give more to the kids in the orphanage. I never thought she has a big heart. No wonder Vince missed her that much," she blew the dust off a cover of an old-fashioned book. It turned out to be a photo album containing pictures during her high school years. She chuckled and smirked, turning page after the next.

"Mom, do we have other photo albums? This was taken when I was in high school. I'd like to see my grade school pictures."

"Not sure. Maybe they are piled there somewhere," pointing at the boxes piled one on top of the other.

The duo continued to rummage through the mount of vintage stuff. Angie opened the antique wardrobe that looked like a lion will come out anytime. Suddenly, windows in the attic flapped as the harsh winter wind gushed in the dark December night. Mrs. Hernandez and Angie quivered and rushed to close the shutters, giggling, looking at each other. Winter in Quebec is harshed with the snow piling up 6-12 inches every night and can reach to negative 22 degrees Celcius.

On the other side of town, Vince was chopping and stacking timbers for the fireplace outside his tiny house. He was cloaked in a grey padded jacket, black warmers, white gloves, and a black suede snow boot. The frigid winter in Quebec is nothing compared to Lake Tahoe, and he never realized it till that moment. He rubbed his hands together, blowing into his palm, clutched his coat, and gathered the last of the timber log. The icy breeze stung his skin, freezing his nerves, making his cheeks crimson colored. Stopping momentarily, he looked around, but all he can see amidst the pitch dark knight is snow.

The wind whistled through the night, giving chills all over his body. Amidst this, his body warmth up when his thought wandered back to Nevada. Vince knew something has changed. The prior week has been eye-opening for him. There's a sudden shift of energy that he can't explain. No one can ever compare to his fiancee, but Angie warmed his heart like no other after Vicky. That moment when they were sitting on the porch and night lamp cast a shadow on her, she looked like a different person. His heart fell in his stomach, sending butterflies fluttering.

When Angie said she wanted to sell the clothes and create an event to collect donations for the orphanage, it gave him a queasy feeling he has never felt for a while.

Vince stepped inside his tiny house, wholly lit with just one light bulb in the living room. He set the timber logs he collected next to the cast iron fireplace set next to the sofa. Inside his quaint tiny house, the flame from the stove heated the entire place in no time. His new house is nothing compared to the cabin house in Nevada. But, it was enough for him to feel at home without noticing the spaces in between. He looked outside the window, wondering what Angie was up to.

"Mom, how do I look?" Angie wore a 1970s White Vintage Mexican Wedding Dress with Bell Sleeves and cotton lace that her mom wore on her wedding day. Mrs. Hernandez clasped her mouth, laughing and clapping at the same time. Her eyes filled with tears seeing her in a wedding dress. She knew that soon enough, she will be sending her off to someone else. She turned her head away from Angie, wiping her nose.

"Mom…" Angie retorted flinging her arms around Mrs. Hernandez. Her eyes darted to a pile of young girl's clothes, "Oh!" Picking a fuschia pink dress with laces and ribbons with a small logo, calligraphy of letter A, on the right corner of the chest. Pinned to the dress was a pink bonnet that matches the style and color of the dress. "I think I have seen this before," turning to her mom. "Where did you get this dress?"

"Oh… That--," gazing at the dress briefly, "was from a seamstress in our village who make customized clothes. The dress came with a bonnet and a satchel. But I am not sure where the satchel is. She's quite a talent, isn't she?"

"Yes. I can't believe such talent existed in your old town. She must be famous."

"Yes, in our neighborhood. But that is how far it goes. She does everything on her own, so there's not much that she can sell," she replied with a stoic expression.

"Is she still alive? I want to meet her," Angie's tone was ecstatic going through her old clothes, "she is a legend."

"No," she sighed, "She died in an accident," Mrs. Hernandez replied.

"Oh! That's sad," Angie pursed her lips but continued scouring through the wardrobe. "Can I keep this?" her eyes widened, smirking from ear to ear.

"No… I mean yes. But the kids in the orphanage will love it, so you should donate it rather than keeping it," her mom responded. She placed the usable and sellable items in a separate box.

"But it's already old. I don't think we should donate fragile clothes like this. It's a classic and something we can use as a reference for our design," Angie said, holding the gown up in the light. She felt a twinge in her heart as she held the dress up high.