Page 48 of Something Borrowed

They continued nattering on for a bit, but Cal was a million miles away—or several city blocks, anyway. And he admitted the facts. He was still crushing on Vic. Pretty hard, in fact. But you know what? It was fine to have a crush. It was nice even. And way less terrifying than liking someone he had a chance with.

*

Vic drove to work, much to Audra’s complaining, so that she’d be able to whip back to the house on her lunch break like she’d told Cal she would. It was also convenient because this way she could bring the box of things she was hoping Madeline would let her consign.

She’d asked ahead of time if Madeline wanted her to make an official appointment like other hopeful consigners.

“No, no, just bring it with you on one of your shifts and we’ll go over the items when we have a quiet moment.”

So here she was, plunking her box down behind the payment counter and feeling nervous about it. Not so much about whether Madeline would want to try to sell the items on consignment. They weren’t really the shop’s style, so she might not, but Vic knew she could always sell them online. No, it was more the questions that Madeline might ask that she feared.

As if sensing Vic’s thoughts, Madeline popped out of the staffroom and crossed over to Vic. “Oh, good! Let me see,” she said when she noticed the box.

“Now?”

Madeline looked around the shop and laughed lightly. “Doesn’t get slower than empty—and I suspect it won’t last. Make hay while the sun shines and all that.”

“Good point.” Vic hefted the box to the ottoman normally claimed by Boots and opened the top. Madeline gasped when she saw the three perfectly pristine branded boxes within the box.

“What?” Vic asked, alarmed.

“Nothing, sorry.” Madeline shook her head. “I guess I was just expecting . . . I don’t know what exactly. Housewares or ornaments from your mom or something, not—”

“LV, Chanel, and Gucci?”

“Exactly.”

“They each have their dust bags, and I have authenticity cards for each one—though two more recent bags have microchips, not cards.”

“Right,” Madeline mused. “I’ve heard about that.”

“And each has its matching serial number, along with a care booklet. And, as you can see, they all have their original packaging. Inside each box, you’ll find the original tissue paper and foam and felt inserts too.”

Madeline’s brow furrowed. Vic was instantly self-conscious. “I only have a receipt for my crossbody because I bought it myself. These were gifts. But I didn’t steal them. I swear.”

Madeline’s smile was sad, and she shook her head. “I just don’t think we’re the right market.”

Vic bit her lip. She knew it was true. “I knew it was a long shot.”

“I’m sorry,” Madeline said, and she really did look it.

Vic’s shoulders twitched in a miniscule shrug. “It’s honestly fine. I’ll sell them through The RealReal or Rebag or something.”

“I know they take a bigger cut, but you’ll also be able to ask more.”

Vic nodded. “I’ve sold shoes through The RealReal before.”

“Do you mind me asking why you’re getting rid of them?”

“They don’t fit me anymore.”

Madeline raised an eyebrow. “They’re handbags. Pretty much the only apparel that are truly one size fits all.”

“I’m surprised by that comment, Madeline,” Vic said, surprising herself with her own audacity. “You, of all people, should know there are all different ways of things fitting a person or not.”

“Touch.” Madeline grinned, then looked skeptical, or maybe even a little sad. “You’re really not going to rock your high heels anymore?”

Vic laughed. “No fear there. I love my LVs, and I’ve worn them so much that, while still in great condition, they’re clearly used. Same thing with my Gucci Brera crossbody bag. It’s too deliciously smooshy. I can’t part with it.”