“You’re a peach,” Birdie chirped. She rose from her stool and ambled to the ancient cash register. “Brinton, let me show you something. Look at this picture. Recognize anyone?”
She pointed to a cracked red plastic frame above her head.
Brinton slipped on her own boot, then met Birdie where she stood. Squinting hard, it suddenly hit her.
“Is that?—”
“Mm-hm. My mama fit Jamie for his first pair when he was four years old. His daddy got his first pair here too, before he made it big.”
In the photo, a young Jamie sat on that same yellow couch, legs splayed across his father’s lap. He beamed up at Jamie Sr. like he was Superman and Captain America rolled into one. Jamie’s mother sat next to his father, but her smile evoked shades of Jamie’s for-the-cameras facade. Like she was holding something back.
Birdie’s tone softened, and sadness clouded her amber eyes. “It’s tragic what happened to MaryBell. So young. Shestruggled a lot, but that little boy was her whole world. I was praying she would get better.”
“Birdie, we have a few more stops before we gotta get back,” Sammi said softly, more solemn than Brinton had ever heard her.
Birdie’s eyes fell to the scuffed linoleum. “Sure, sure, honey. Let me grab your boots from the back.”
A few minutes later, she returned with a plain brown box, which she carried as if filled with the world’s riches. In some ways, it was. When Brinton opened it, her mouth dropped.
The leather was buttery-soft, in a creamy eggshell shade with cognac stitching and matching block heels. Brinton slipped them on. They fit like a glove.
Her heart filled with something indescribable but surely close to hope. The simple gift of bespoke boots made her vibrate with happiness, and that happiness could dispel every shadow that seemed to follow her. She wanted to believe it.
“Birdie, these are incredible,” Brinton said.
“Aren’t they?”
“I didn’t think I could pull them off.”
Birdie came up behind her and placed calloused hands on her shoulders. “Well, you can’t limit yourself. My mama always said you gotta try new things while the breath’s still in your body.”
Like most people Brinton had met in Iris, Birdie’s kindness and warmth were like a safety net she never knew she needed.
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Birdie.”
Back in the car, Brinton couldn’t stop thinking about Jamie’s mother. She turned to Sammi.
“I don’t want you to take this wrong, but I noticed you stopped Birdie when she brought up Jamie’s mom,” Brinton started. “When I asked him about her, he also shut down. Did…something happen to her?”
Sammi pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut, as if she’d been dreading this moment. “Publicly, there’s not much out there about Jamie’s mom,” she said. “It’s out of respect. She was beloved—a good woman who got dealt a bad hand. Understandably, Jamie is sensitive about her passing. I don’t feel right getting into it, because it’s his story to share. I can tell he’s taken a shine to you though, so try talking to him tonight.”
She smiled sincerely, then added, “The boots might bring you some luck.”
They exchanged grateful smiles before Sammi pressed a button, igniting the engine’s subtle whir. “Let’s hit a few boutiques. I know you don’t want new clothes, but?—”
“That sounds great,” Brinton cut in. “Honestly, I’ve been sweating my ass off since I got here.”
She tugged on the collar of her black pin-striped top, which clung uncomfortably to her torso in the Tennessee humidity. “A pair of shorts won’t kill me, and you’ve been trying toPretty Woman–me all day. Congratulations, I concede.”
Sammi smiled like the cat who got the Chanel No. 5. In her best Julia Roberts impression, she playfully snapped, “Big mistake. Big. Huge!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Afew hours later, Brinton barely recognized her reflection in the full-length mirror. She wore a white tank top that was cropped above her navel and light-wash Levi’s cut-offs. On her feet, her new boots.
It was a lot of skin for someone who typically used clothing as an invisibility cloak. But, damn. She felt like popping her shit.
So, she pulled her braids into a low ponytail, spritzed some vanilla perfume, and slicked a gilded peach gloss on her lips.
