“Hi,” she says tentatively. Her smile is genuine but a bit reserved. Mine probably looks like I’m trying to dry my teeth.
“So, I work for Harp and Hemline across the square.” I wave my clipboard in the air. “Would you mind answering a few survey questions for me?”
The woman turns fully toward me now, nodding, her smile growing warmer. “Sure thing. What can I help you with?”
I swallow, looking down at the first question. “What outfits are you looking to purchase for this year’s football season?”
The woman starts talking, babbling really. I scramble to take notes, though I don’t even know some of the words she’s saying. Beaded straps. Pleated bust. Smocking panel. Scallop cut. Bell shaped. Flared maxis. Polka dot. Well, that one I know. The rest are basically Greek, but I write them down.
My hand starts to cramp before I even get to the third question. I feel like this woman is offering me golden nuggets, the type of answers Silas desperately needs. She gets distracted when her daughter comes out of the fitting room with the first of what might be fifty outfits Mary London has her try on. Another duo has entered the boutique, so I make my way to the mama. She’s also happy to divulge her favorite styles and fabrics for my survey. She introduces me to other terms I’ll have to look up later: sweater vests, asymmetrical hemlines, flutter sleeves, and Charleston dresses.
I discover that I’ve inadvertently jumped feetfirst into an industry I know nothing about. Southern women are a different breed of woman altogether. And I will be of absolutely no help to Silas.
While I don’t care for the man, I can’t inflict my ineptitude on him without feeling terrible about it. I plan to leave here today, give him the survey results, and officially quit my job.
I’ve officially lost all ability to make my cheeks pull up into a smile by the time Mary London pulls me into another hug,looking oddly fresh like she hasn’t been working her ass off selling hundreds of dollars of outfits, and whispers in my ear that her assistant is taking over so we can grab lunch. I let her pull me out of the boutique into the scorching heat. My hand is spasming from all the writing and I drop my pen. I leave it right there on the sidewalk outside the boutique, utterly unable to bend down and grab it in a skirt this short. I already flashed Heaven two days ago. I can’t have a repeat this soon or I might be labeled the town flasher.
“You did great, darlin’!” Mary London crows, opening the door to Cloud Nine Coffee just two doors down. The scent of roasted coffee beans and homemade pastries assails my senses. My stomach lets out an unladylike rumble. “They have croissant sandwiches that are to die for!”
I feel like most of Mary London’s sentences end in an exclamation mark. I don’t know where she gets the energy.
“Are you married?” I blurt out as we queue in line.
Mary London’s smile dims by a fraction, and I feel like crap for being the one to make her less than ecstatic. “No, not yet. I’m a picky girl. Just waiting around for the exact right Prince Charming.”
I nod. “I hear you. The pickin’s are slim.”
Mary London laughs, putting her arm around my waist and resting her head on my shoulder. “Look at you, soundin’ all Southern.”
I don’t know what to make of all the affection she displays. It makes me freeze in my tracks but it’s not unpleasant. Just…different…than what I’m used to. It’s our turn to order and Mary London pays for my lunch, even when I try to argue with her. She pushes my debit card away, dozens of bracelets pinging against each other on her wrist.
“It’s my treat. You’ve been so much fun at the boutique today.”
I snort as we move to find a table. “Yeah, I bet.”
Mary London tilts her head after she has a seat across from me. “I mean it, Betsy Mae.”
What is it with Southerners and their stubborn usage of middle names?
“You have a way with people.” She laughs but it doesn’t seem like she’s laughingatme. “You’re not even nice to the customers and yet they seem to like you. In fact, I had one mama ask me if we had any of your chokers in stock.”
“Really?” My hand flies to my choker, stroking the velvet ribbon absentmindedly. I’ve had this old thing for years.
The server drops off plastic baskets containing our sandwiches. There’s a juicy pickle on the side of mine which makes me like this place even more.
“How are things going with Silas over at Harp and Hemline?” Mary London picks up her sandwich and takes a bite. She watches me do the same and grins when my eyes go wide.
I enjoy my bite, holding up a finger. When I swallow, I wipe my mouth with a napkin from the holder on the table. “Wow, that’s good. Um, it’s going okay, I guess.”
Mary London frowns. “Well, you must love working with Silas. Isn’t he the best?”
Now it’s my turn to frown. For all his optimism, he hasn’t exactly been nice to me. “Um, no. He’s mean.”
She drops her sandwich on her plate, jaw dropping. “Silas Winthrop? My brother?”
I make a face and nod.
“How can that be? Silas is the biggest teddy bear in Heaven, Mississippi!” Mary London is now shaking her head vigorously. I’m afraid she’ll mess up her perfectly styled hair.
