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“What?” Liza asked, covering her mouth as she spoke while it was full.
Ginger shook her head. “Oh nothing, really. Just that Dorothy Culver owns the fabric shop and she and Lydia are close friends. I’m sure she’ll tip Lydia off that I’m ‘up to something’ when I come in for satin and lace.”
Liza did the polite thing and swallowed before she spoke again. “So tell me what you need and I’ll go get it.”
Though the sexy window display would put the saints in a tizzy, she couldn’t dissuade Ginger from creating it. The girl paid rent for that space, for crying out loud. She could do whatever the hell she pleased in her shop window as long as it was legal. And Liza was sure the mayor hadn’t outlawed thigh-high stockings, even if the reverend and his wife had guilted the townsfolk into believing they were the devil’s clothes.
But Ginger surprised her by sitting up a little straighter in her chair. She said, “Thanks, but no. It’s my store. It’s my window. And I’m going to decorate it however I please.”
“Atta girl,” Liza said. She raised her wineglass to Ginger’s iced tea cup, and the rims made a strange clink as the glass and plastic touched.
Ginger looked pleased with her decision. “You know what? There is absolutely no law against putting my sales rack out on the sidewalk. Every other clothier in town does it. Hell, Murphy Cassidy displays his ugly-as-sin hunters’ garb every single day. God-awful camouflage paired with the most hideous, bright-orange rubber boots known to man. If any clothing displays should be outlawed, it’s his, based strictly on how wretched they are.”
Liza loved her spirit. “Be sure to mention all of this the next time Lydia tries to guilt you into bringing your nighties inside.”
“You better believe I will.”
If Liza wasn’t mistaken, the petite blonde had just grown a backbone.
Ginger attempted to change the subject and find out more about Liza, but Liza had come to the conclusion over the few days she’d been in Wilder that there was no point in rehashing her past. She could see things much more clearly now and she didn’t like the picture her past painted. About her or the people who’d been in her life.
She’d had enough defining moments of late to realize that she’d suffered years of growing pains in New York. She had the chance to learn from them and move onward and upward. Right here in Wilder. If that was what she chose to do.
After lunch, she and Ginger walked together until their directions veered off. At the fork in the sidewalk, Ginger said, “You’ll come by tomorrow and see the display, right?”
“Absolutely. And we still have the website to discuss.”
Ginger was positively radiant. Full of a new hope she hadn’t projected when Liza had first met her. “Thank you, Liza.” Ginger threw her arms around her. “You are such a good friend!”
Blinking back the tears didn’t work this time. Liza squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments, but the drops seeped out the sides.
Again, when had she become the emotional type?
Ginger released her and said, “I can’t wait to see how this display comes out. C
ome by as soon as you can, okay?”
“I take my morning break at Jess’ around ten.”
“Perfect!” She clasped her hands together and said, “I have material to buy! See you tomorrow.”
“Hey, thanks for lunch,” Liza called out as Ginger practically skipped down the sidewalk.
“No, thank you!” she called over her shoulder.
Chapter Eighteen
“You’re not going to believe this,” George said as he came through the door of the saloon the next morning. Jack wasn’t open for business, but he’d been expecting his campaign manager.
Looking up from the limes he was slicing for tonight, Jack asked, “What’s up?”
Sliding onto a stool at the bar, George said, “We’re going to be two weeks behind in getting our ‘Jack Wade for City Council’ signs.”
“I thought our slogan was, ‘Jack, Jack! He’s our Man’!”
“Ha, ha.”
“You want coffee?”
