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Unsure what to make of the fuzziness that bit of information gives me, I trail after her inside.
“Hello!” A young woman hurries to greet us. She’s tall and tan, with long black hair straightened neatly across her shoulder and secured in a low ponytail. Most Topicans share similar features as hers, but she lacks the heavy accent.
Brandi informs her of our appointment as I gape at the room, spinning in a circle.
A sea of sparkling chiffon and suede gowns are spread throughout the store—Prada, Gucci, Calvin Klein, and Vera Wang. My mother would have a field day in this place.
My palms itch to check my debit account. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
The woman who greeted us loops her arm through mine, ushering me deeper into the store. The name Amanda is printed across her gold-plated name tag. “Yes! In fact, I took the call for the appointment from Mr. Carlisle myself.”
My palms slick with sweat. No way can I afford one of these gowns. I probably can’t afford the little tins of mints at the front counter, either.
Ignoring my protests, she deposits me and Brandi in a private area at the back of the store amid another enormous collection of expensive dresses.
“I was given strict instruction to let you ladies take your time browsing. These racks here have all been imported from the United States, while these racks over here have been made from the rarest Topican silks and dyes on the island.” She winks. “I think you’ll find them quite lovely.”
Unaware of my struggle, Brandi flits past me, swipes several gowns from the rack, and then scurries back to the empty room.
Amanda flips through several dresses before grabbing two long gowns. “Why don’t you start with these? I think they would complement your figure nicely.”
I drop my voice in hopes that Brandi won’t overhear. “I’m sorry for the trouble, ma’am, but I can’t afford any of these.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize…”
This is so humiliating.
“If you could just keep this between you and me, I can tell Mr. Carlisle myself.”
Amanda’s laughter is the light, twinkling kind. “Oh, honey, no. I meant, I didn’t realize he hadn’ttoldyou.”
“Told me what?”
Brandi rips the dressing room curtain open, one hand on the edge of the wall while the other grips the fabric of an all-black silk dress. “It’s free ninety-nine, baby! Damon’s paying.”
Amanda wears a twin smile.
“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” I say to Brandi.
It’s one thing for him to offer me a place to stay, but to spend a thousand or more on a scrap of fabric that will be worn once is something else entirely.
Brandi’s flowing dress swishes when she steps in front of the full-length mirror in the middle of the changing area. “Relax, Kate. Damon wouldn’t have insisted if he didn’t have the means. Enjoy a little bit of spoiling.”
I grab the bottom of one of the gowns Amanda’s still holding and rub the material between my fingers.
Perhaps Brandi’s right. I should relax and enjoy what’s being offered.
If this isn’t the sort of thing Damon usually does for a woman, then maybe I kind of like being the one he would make a rash decision over.
“Amanda?” I say as I drop the sheer bottom of a holiday edition Giorgio Armani. “Where’s your clearance section?”
Brandi utters a curse. “You’re not going to make this easy on him, are you?”
Absolutely not.
* * *
“This is how you end a girls’ day,” Brandi cheers, clicking her frosty margarita glass with mine.
