“Will I be on the list?” Daisy asked quietly.
“Always.” No hesitation. Of course I’d want her there. I always wanted Daisy around.
She smiled and trailed her hand across a clothing rack. One of the overhead lights flickered, casting a yellowish glow on the three other shoppers sifting through piles of potential treasures.
“What about a weird outfit?” She held up a pair of chaps.
“I could never pull off the cowboy look.”
“Some home decor?” Daisy perused a shelf full of sheep figurines. “I love picking out that kind of stuff.”
“Don’t waste your talents on this.”
We meandered toward the furniture section, testing out some sofas and a desk. Daisy gasped.
“Max! It’s perfect.”
She pointed to a stool tucked behind a filing cabinet. The base had a twisting, tornado-like shape, and the entire thing was the color of a neon-orange construction vest.
“That’s definitely something,” I said, giving the chair a dubious look.
“Exactly.”
“And the wrong height for my desk.”
“Impractical. Heinous. Bizarre.”
“It’s probably uncomfortable.”
Daisy looked at me. “Only one way to find out.” She grabbed my hand and led me to the barstool with the dangling price tag.
Chapter Eight
Daisy, Now
“Begin moving your fingers and toes.” The soft-spoken instructor coaxes me out ofsavasana. Rather than finding a zen state after having my ass kicked on the mat, all I can think about is Max. Whatever his parents said to him must have really hurt. I’m happy to help him and be the counterbalance to what he’s going through with them, if only for a short while.
Besides, helping him means he’ll get back on his feet and out of Harlow as fast as possible, which is what he wants. It’s what someone as intelligent and accomplished as Max deserves.
“The light in me sees and honors the light in you.”
When I open my eyes, everyone in the class has already switched to a seated position. I shoot up to join them, tossing prayer hands up to my forehead with a rushednamaste.
While Gwen thanks folks at the exit, I move tables back to their original spots. My friend looks radiant as she tells the yoga instructor that they might want to do this twice a week instead of once. After everyone has left, Gwen flips theOpensign on the front door, sinks into a chair, and lets out an exhausted exhale.
“I had nightmares you’d be the only person.” Gwen had begged me to attend the first-ever wellness class in her shop, offering to pay my admission if I’d help prep the space for guests.
“Would me struggling in downward dog alone for an hour have been that terrible?”
“You have a cute tush. And respectable form.”
“I’m glad you noticed. Although I usually do yoga at home and at a much more forgiving pace. I don’t think I’ll be able to move tomorrow.”
She chortles and then turns to me with sparkling eyes. “Thank you for being here.”
“Always.” I sit on the curved arm of the chair, my limbs loose from all the pretzel shapes I pushed myself into in the past hour. I’m lucky to have a successful businesswoman best friend, but I wish The Mirage had half of the runaway success she experiences with the shop. At least one of us won’t be struggling this slow season. She must get tired of me yapping about money and dwindling reservations.
“You know,” she says, “you could run events like this at The Mirage for your guests.”
