“Well, Maisie, this is all such wonderful news that I can’t imagine why you’re desperate, as you said.”
She set her lips in a line, glancing down as her face pinkened. “The truth is, Peyton, I’ve been so busy with my children and the house and my charity work that I’m afraid I’ve neglected Philip slightly. And—” She slapped her hands against her hips. “I’ve definitely let myself go more than I even realized. I pulled out some clothes this morning to pack for the cruise, and—” Maisie lowered her voice. “None of them fit me. Not well, anyway. And I realized that I haven’t really paid any attention to my skin care routine, either—I buy goodies from you, but always the same stuff.” She tossed up her hands. “I want to shake things up, and I need your help.”
I smiled, feeling that familiar tingle of excitement that rose from tackling a challenge. “You’ve come to the right place. Let’s start brainstorming.”
An hour later,Maisie handed over her platinum credit card as I rang up the largest sale I’d made in a long time. She seemed happier and more relaxed than she had earlier, and I counted that as a win.
“Now this is just step one.” I passed back her card and receipt. “Do you have anything planned for the rest of the afternoon?”
She shook her head. “No. Why?”
“Because I want you to walk around the corner to Broughton. A new place just opened there last month—it’s called Savannah Lace. The owner is a real sweetheart. She sells lingerie?—”
“Oh, Peyton.” Doubt clouded Maisie’s pretty face. “I don’t know that I want to even think about my body in tAndys or corsets. Not the way it is now.” She sighed. “Turning fifty didn’t feel like such a big deal until now.”
“Hey.” I tapped the back of her hand where it rested on the edge of the dresser. “Listen. I know what you mean. Remember, I’m three years older than you.” I cocked my head. “Peg always says that aging is a gift, that it beats the alternative, and I happen to agree with her. But I’m also aware that what happens to our figures after menopause is no joke, either. No matter how hard we work out or how diligently we diet.”
“I know!” Maisie glanced around as though the lotions and oils on my shelves might hear her. “My plan was to eat nothing and drink only water until we set sail, but honestly, it doesn’t seem to make any difference whether I gorge myself on ice cream or stick to salads all day, every day.”
“I understand,” I consoled her. “That’s why I suggested Lindsay’s shop. She has a special section calledOver Fifty and Fabulous.” I grinned. “She told me that she wanted to call itOver Fifty and Fucking Fabulous, but her business partner wouldn’t let her do it.”
“Oh, she sounds like our kind of people.” Maisie nibbled her bottom lip. “All right, I’ll go check it out. Do you have any suggestions for where I might find some flattering outfits for outside the bedroom? Regardless of how flattering her lingerie might be, I don’t think I can wear it to dinner on the ship.”
I considered her question for a moment. “The Bohemian Boutique on the corner of Whitaker and Congress. They have some lovely resort wear in their window display just now. I saw it on my way to work this morning.”
Maisie blinked at me, her eyes swimming as she grabbed my hand and held it tight. “Peyton, I just don’t know what I would do without you. I came in here this morning filled with panic and despair, and now I’m actually a little excited about this trip. Thank you so much.”
“No, thank you for trusting me and for being such a fabulous customer.” I squeezed her hand. “Now get moving, girlfriend. You have suitcases to fill!”
She smiled and waved at me over her shoulder. I called after her before the door closed. “And don’t forget to come in and tell me all about what an amazing time you had when you get home!”
She blew me a kiss and was gone, the small bell tinkling on the door in the wake of her departure. I sighed, wondering idly what it was like to live a life where money was never a problem and college sweethearts remained devoted husbands, even thirty years later. Not that I’d ever had a college sweetheart, since I’d never gone to college. I’d been too busy giving birth and then raising a baby on my own because my high school boyfriend, the guy I’d thought would be my forever love, had skipped out on me—on us.
I heard the floor squeak behind me moments before Peg emerged from the stockroom. As always, she looked cool and perfectly put together, despite the fact that I knew she’d been working on inventory in the back all morning.
“Was that Maisie Rollins I heard?” she inquired, taking a sip of water from her blue Yeti. “I was going to come out and say hello, but it seemed as though you had the situation handled.”
I chuckled. “Sure, sure,” I teased. “I know how much you love to chat with her.”
“It’s not that I don’tlikeher,” Peg protested. “It’s just that she goes on and on about—well, everything! And after a while, I have trouble holding onto my game face.”
“I know. But actually, she wasn’t too bad today, aside from telling me that her daughter got into all the colleges she applied to, complete with scholarships that she doesn’t even need.”
Peg gave that statement the eye roll I’d resisted. “I know she’s a good customer, and I know she’s brought you lots of business, but Jesus. Doesn’t shehearherself ever?”
“Probably not.” In my pocket, my phone vibrated, reminding me of what I’d been reading when Maisie had made her dramatic entrance earlier. Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen and smiled. “Oh, Charlie’s stopping by. She’s bringing lunch from the deli—do you want egg salad?”
“Sure.” Peg stretched, rolling her shoulders. “On rye, please.”
I tapped the reply and hit send. “Got it. She’ll be here shortly.” Almost involuntarily, I flicked my thumb over the mail icon, summoning the message I’d been reading. “Do you remember Sheri Wilson? From the Cove?”
Peg frowned, her brow wrinkling. “Cute blonde girl? Cheerleader?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” I read her email again, still not quite comprehending the words. “I heard from her this morning. She’s got cancer. It’s . . . she says that there’s no hope. The doctors have told her that it’s a matter of months.”
“Oh, my God.” Peg wandered over to me, her eyes filled with concern. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear it.” She paused for a beat. “I wasn’t aware that you kept in touch with her.”
The underlying message of surprise had more to do with the notion that I’d been in contact with anyone from Crystal Cove, not just Sheri. I understood exactly what Peg meant.
