Rae wrinkled her nose. “She looks…loud.”
Frankie smiled. “Loud gets remembered. Loud owns the room. Don’t be afraid to be loud. Just make sure it’s your volume.”
Rae didn’t answer, but she didn’t bolt either. Progress.
They kept piling potential treasures into a cart. Some were definite misses, others solid maybes. And onewas a jaw-dropping vintage jacket Rae unearthed like buried treasure beneath a rack labeled: $2 or best offer.
At checkout, Rae eyed the pile nervously. “None of this is going to fit right.”
Frankie met her gaze without flinching. “Nothing worth having fits perfectly off the rack. You find what you love, and you make it yours.” She paused, heart catching in a way she hadn’t expected. “This applies to everything. Clothes. Jobs. People. Sometimes you have to alter them to fit the life you want.”
“People?” Rae asked.
Frankie thought about it. “Scratch people,” she added, voice softening, “But it’s okay to voluntarily alter yourself, so you can fit into the life you deserve.”
“I don’t get it. Like I should change so the mean girls won’t be mean to me?”
“Hell no. But you might change some of your armor so the boy you like isn’t scared to cross the battlefield.”
The words felt too true. To close. She’d meant them for Rae, but they hit like a boomerang to the heart. Which was mildly inconvenient, considering she’d just told Marcus last night that she’d never be with a man who tried to change her.
Maybe she needed to revise that. Not retract it, just…refine. With conditions. Caveats. Boundaries and bullet points.
“If you do change,” she added, more carefully, “make sure it’s either your idea or something you believe in.Otherwise, it’s a costume. And eventually, the seams will split.”
“One hundred percent agree with everything Francesca just said,” Evelyn chimed in, appearing beside them. “Now, as for any material alterations, you’re going to need the sewing machine for that,” she said, waving toward the back.
Frankie blinked. “You sew?”
“My grandmother had a rule when I spent summers with her. For every hour I spent watching TV or scrolling online, I had to spend another hour learning a skill. She was a gifted seamstress, so she taught me.” Evelyn’s grin was pure pride. “Made this jacket myself from the remnants of an old quilt.”
Rae’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Evelyn beamed. “Seriously. One stitch at a time. Nothing fancy. Just patience, a seam ripper, and a vision.”
Rae ran her fingers along the hem of the jacket like it might hum with magic. “I didn’t think regular people made stuff like that.”
“We do,” Evelyn said. “And so can you.”
Frankie watched the moment settle over Rae like a second skin…fragile, but real. That shy resistance she always wore like armor shifted, just slightly.
Evelyn and Rae disappeared into a swirl of thread and fabric, chatting like they’d known each other far more than an hour. Frankie let them have the space. She was just glad Rae had found someone else in town.Someone who might still be around after Frankie returned toNaked Runway.
While they worked, Frankie restyled a mannequin and rearranged a jewelry display, her version of patience.
Rae cleared her throat from behind the makeshift curtain. “Are you ready?”
“Absolutely,” Frankie said, resisting the urge to issue a command about speaking with confidence. Growth.
Rae stepped out slowly, as if she wasn’t sure the floor would hold her. She turned toward the mirror.
She wore the altered jeans and the soft floral top Evelyn had called a “non-negotiable yes.” The outfit wasn’t perfect. The jeans still needed one more tuck, and the shirt still looked slightly unsure of itself, like it was trying to remember how to be loved. But Rae? Rae stood taller.
The smile that bloomed across her face cracked something in Frankie’s chest. It wasn’t big or loud. It was quiet. Private. Like Rae was seeing someone in the mirror she hadn’t expected to meet and wasn’t quite ready to introduce to the world.
Rae turned toward them, and in her eyes was a flicker of something new. She didn’t just look different. She believed different might actually be possible.
“This looks…like something from a fancy boutique,” Rae said. “Not a thrift store reject.”
