“Honey.” Erin must have felt the coffee that she’d spilled on her hand because she reached for a napkin and mopped off the counter and her fingers. “I went to high school once upon a time. So say no more. I consider it my civic duty to dress you in a way that makes you feel most comfortable.”
“That’s not necessary,” she rushed to explain, panicking at the idea of paying for a whole outfit. “Really. I mostly just need a comfortable tee that doesn’t cling, if you have anything like that on sale.”
But Erin was already shaking her head and moving toward the back door. “I literally have ten times as much inventory as any store at the mall because I run a ‘Dress for Success’ program and collect donations in addition to my regular business.” She hit a few buttons on an alarm system, waited for a chime and then shoved open the heavy steel door. “See that RV out there? I drive it all around the state to do events that help get clothes into the hands of people who need them. I’m telling you, you walked into the place you were meant to be today.”
Her kindness made Mia’s eyes burn. The offer was so generous and seemed so heartfelt. Would it be wrong to take that kind of help?
“I’m not—” her words hitched on a lump in her throat “—like, needy, or anything.”
Erin stood motionless for a long moment, still holding the door open while cold air blew into Last Chance Vintage and rock music drifted out. Slowly she let the heavy door close as she straightened.
“I understand. But we are all ‘in need’ of something sometimes. Right now you’re in need of my awesome fashion advice and design guidance.” She used her hands to gesture back and forth between them. “I’m in need of exercising my weird skill set for something more worthwhile than painting another birdhouse to add to the twelve I’ve made this month.” She shrugged so hard her shoulders hit her hoop earrings. “Why not have a fun day and we’llbothplay hooky from our regular work?”
“You think it would befunto find clothes for me?” Mia had never had fun in a clothing store. First, because she was too poor to afford much of anything. And then, in the last two years, because she could never find anything thatfit well.
“I’ve already got a half dozen things in mind that will downplay your wealth of feminine assets without making you look like an old lady. I’d be sad if I didn’t get to at least test my theories and see if I can find you some cool things.”
Mia wanted to say yes. She liked Erin Finley. For that matter, she wished she could dress half as well as this woman.
“I can’t take a handout.” She needed to be able to look herself in the mirror after all. And she knew that whatever “Dress for Success” program Erin ran, it wasn’t geared toward teenagers. “I could go on a payment plan, maybe?”
Pete insisted she take some of the money from his social security every month, putting it in a bank account with her name on it when she’d refused. It wasn’t a lot, but if she could put a little of that toward the clothes, over time, she’d be able to get some things.
“You could pick up some weekend hours here, if you want. I need help sorting the clothes all the time. My sister likes to do it, but she won’t let me pay her?—”
“You don’t like a handout, either,” Mia observed, hoping she hadn’t come across like a smart-ass.
“I guess I don’t.” Erin grinned, the smile lighting up her eyes and making them a paler shade of blue. “Have we got a deal, then? You go home with a wardrobe to keep the boys’ eyes in their heads, and I get free labor for a few weekends until we can call it even.”
Mia set down the coffee mug and held out her hand. “Deal.”
Erin shook it, her silver bracelets jingling softly while the Rolling Stones played. “Deal.”
Following her new friend around the store, Mia felt hopeful, excited and really glad she’d skipped school today. This was so much better than listening to the girls make upstories about what had happened in Davis’s truck last night, or hearing the boys trade ugly tales of sex acts she hadn’t committed.
She just hoped she’d be able to stick around Heartache long enough to work off the payment to Erin for the clothes. As soon as something happened to Pete, she’d be back in the foster system and they could ship her halfway across Tennessee with no warning. At least for now she had something useful to occupy her thoughts so she didn’t spend her free time listening to her father’s monitors tick down his final days.
Keep holding my hand.
Clayton remembered Gabriella’s request as they’d sat in the parking lot of the courthouse that morning, and he’d done his best to honor it in the hours since then. Now, after the morning’s opening arguments and a brief lunch break, they sat side by side on a bench crammed with other Heartache residents, listening while the prosecuting attorney presented his case.
“Are you okay?” Clayton leaned close to Gabriella to speak softly in her ear while a nonessential witness who had worked for Jeremy Covington gave information about his employment at the local quarry Covington operated.
Gabby had barely moved once they’d taken their seats, her attention completely focused on the trial proceedings. She gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod. They had chosen a spot in the back after the lunch break, knowing they would need to excuse themselves early. Yet even in the last row, the bench was crowded with people growing sweaty from the proximity and forced air heat. Outside thecourtroom, the media waited just beyond the doors, eager for updates.
He could hear them shuffling restlessly in the hallway whenever the door opened to admit witnesses.
“We should leave when this guy steps down,” he reminded her quietly, checking his watch.
He’d worried about her throughout the day, beginning with how pale she’d gone in the car before they entered and continuing through the opening arguments when a few small gasps alerted him that she was distressed. Still, none of the counselors’ opening arguments had mentioned her specifically, each focusing on the digital evidence found in Covington’s computer, and the kidnapping attempt that he’d made with his son six weeks ago. The son would be tried in a juvenile court at a date to be determined, apparently, his crimes minor compared to the long timeline of evidence against the older man.
Clayton breathed a sigh of relief at Gabriella’s nod of agreement, and moments later he guided her through the waiting journalists and out into the cold November afternoon. The scent of dry leaves and maybe a coming storm hung in the air, the sky gray and heavy.
“Would you mind driving?” she asked, pulling the single key from the pocket of the trench coat she’d worn all during the proceedings. “I didn’t realize this day would take so much out of me.”
“Of course.” He took the key as he opened the passenger-side door for her in a parking lot full to capacity.
Gabriella slid into her seat and he shut the door behind her then jogged around to his side before settling behind the wheel.
