Amy felt herself return the smile as Nina Spencer leaned out the rear window of the RV.
“Look how gorgeous you are! Amy Finley, you may be the only woman on the planet who does not have a single picture of herself posted on the internet,” she chided, retreating through the window to follow Erin out the door and into the parking lot. “You know how often we’ve cyberstalked you through the years?”
“Atlanta didn’t make me any more sociable, I’m afraid.” She wasn’t used to so much scrutiny at once. But standing in the middle between Bethany, Nina and Erin, she searched her emotions and realized she didn’t feel awkward. Or resentful.
Erin hugged her fast, the scent of rose potpourri permeating her clothes. Nina squeezed her like a favorite rag doll.
Behind them, Amy noticed a younger woman step down from the RV, a bright blue suit over one arm, her short brown hair covered by a yellow cap with a fast-food restaurant logo.
“Feel her hair, Erin!” Nina exclaimed, her fingers smoothing over the strands on Amy’s shoulders before she pulled away. “You must have never colored it in your life.”
Amy had forgotten how effusive Nina could be, but it was no surprise, as her grandmother, Daisy, was just the same way. Erin winked at Amy behind Nina’s back before noticing the quiet brunette in the uniform.
“Faith.” Erin moved toward the other woman, tugging a plastic bag that had been trailing from her back pocket. “Let me put this around the suit to keep it clean for you. And if you need another suit for an interview down the road, you should come to us again, okay?”
The woman—Faith—nodded, saying nothing. Amy noticed how pale her skin was, how dark the circles beneathher eyes, like she’d been up for too many hours and was too tired to put one foot in front of the other. She’d been that woman once, when she’d first moved to Atlanta and didn’t even have a high school diploma to land a good job. Waitressing had carried her through a lot of lean years. She’d only recently started to build a client base for her private accounting business, and her best two clients were the restaurants where she’d waitressed.
“You’re giving a statement against Jeremy Covington?” Amy asked Faith, shamed to think this tired lady was giving a court deposition while Amy kept her own knowledge on lockdown.
Scared. Guilt-ridden.
“Yes.” She passed the outfit to Erin to bag, her pale blue eyes meeting Amy’s. “I don’t know how helpful my testimony will be since I can’t identify the man who...assaulted me.” She swallowed with an effort. “But the sheriff said it might lead to more people to testify.”
“Thank you.” The words came out fiercer than she’d intended, enough to make Erin turn from what she was doing to study Amy’s face. “Our sister is testifying, so the case has been on my mind. You’re brave to come forward.”
The barest hint of a smile showed in the quick flash of a dimple.
“I’m not brave. It happened a long time ago, and I’m only just giving the police a statement.” She smoothed the polyester work shirt that was part of her uniform. “It’s long overdue, but I have a younger sister and I’m trying to... I don’t know. Model better behavior for Patience’s sake, I guess.”
“It takes a lot of courage to call up unhappy things from the past.” Amy knew that for a fact. “I’m sure other people will follow your example when they see what you’re doing.”
“Yeah?” Faith took the bag from Erin and pulled her keys from a worn leather satchel slung over one shoulder. “I hope so. And at least I have this suit to wear. It makes me feel more confident. I really appreciate it.”
“It looks great on you,” Nina supplied.
“I’m so glad we got to help you choose it.” Erin fussed over the suit bag, smoothing it so the plastic lay flat over Faith’s arm. “Good luck.”
Giving an awkward wave, Faith hurried away toward a tan sedan parked on the far side of the back lot. Amy watched her hang the suit in the rear seat before she climbed in the car to leave. The muffler was loud and needed replacing. Amy found herself wanting to run after the other woman and offer to fix it. She’d replaced most of the exhaust system on her old car using YouTube videos and junkyard parts since for years she’d had no extra money to pay a mechanic.
Besides, Faith was her new hero.
“I can’t believe you’re really here, Amy.” Erin’s words called her out of the past, forcing her to focus on her family.
That was why she was in town, right? To smooth over old relationships? Time to start trying.
An hour later, the store had been closed, the security system switched on, and the four of them sat in the back room where Erin had a private office and consultation area for clients. The round table had been cleared of fabric swatches and reference books so they could make themselves comfortable to visit over bottles of sparkling water Erin had pulled from an under-counter refrigerator.
After touring the Dress for Success mobile unit, Amy had updated them on her renovations at the cabin. She was more interested in learning about how Erin had done most of the remodeling work on the store herself, but her familyseemed determined to keep Amy in the hot seat. They questioned her about life in Atlanta, her plan to go into business as a private accountant and how she was spending the upcoming weeks in Heartache.
“So tell us about Sheriff Reyes.” Nina leaned forward, elbows on the table. She wore a gold necklace, and the long chain pooled around the heart-shaped pendant as she leaned forward over the table. “Rumor has it you were in his truck today when he broke up a fight.”
With her shoulder-length dark blond hair and gray eyes, Nina was a lovely woman. She had a ready smile and a warmth that drew people in. Amy could see why Mack loved her. Even if she did enjoy putting people on the spot.
“Sam is determined that I remember more about the summer when Gabriella was attacked. He drove me around Heartache today in the hope of shaking loose old memories.” She wasn’t going to reveal that the best memory they’d relived was a kiss, and that kissing him had been on her mind ever since.
“That’s not his usual method of police questioning.” Erin tapped her phone screen a few times, and the action seemed to lower the volume of the speakers behind them on a small coffee bar.
“No? I guess he hasn’t forgotten we were once good friends.”
