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“One minute. I have the database. You aren’t the first wealthy woman that needed to buy herself a new life.” She tapped away on her computer as I looked around the small, dusty shop. It was full of lost treasures, and I wondered what had happened to make people give up pieces of their lives.
I considered what she had just said—not the first woman who needed to buy a new life. What did that say about my world if this had happened before, and from the sounds of it, fairly often? I didn’t have time to think about those women. Right now, I needed to worry about myself.
A pendant in the corner caught my eye. It was bright red, almost orange, and the way it caught the light was stunning. It was large and clunky, and my mother would call it garish.
“How much for this?” I asked. The attendant looked over the rim of her glasses.
“You don’t want that, it’s not really your style.” She motioned to the things I was selling, all high-priced, dainty, and chic.
“Maybe I am looking for a new style.”
She regarded me for a second and nodded before unlocking the case and pulling the necklace out. “It’s a Mexican fire opal. This one is large but flawed. I can give it to you for two hundred and fifty dollars.”
“Sold.” I shouldn’t be buying anything. I needed to save my money, at least until Harrison was able to get my bank accounts freed from my parents.
“Okay. I checked out the bags. You are good to go. I can buy all of them today except for this Birkin. There isn’t enough in the till.” She reluctantly handed me back the bag that I had thought was just dull.
“Tell you what, could you trade it for that red Alexander McQueen bag in the window?”
“The large bucket?” she asked, curling her lip.
“That is the one.”
“That’s nowhere near the same cost.”
“Then call it a bargain. Or put the money for the McQueen bag in yourself and take home the Birkin.” I shrugged. “Your choice.”
Her eyes lit up. For so many women, owning a Birkin bag was something that they could only dream of. Even if they could get the money together, it was still almost impossible to get their hands on one.
“Are you sure?” Her eyes were still huge.
“Yes, but I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
I took my cash and my new imperfect fire opal necklace and red purse and caught a cab to Penn Station.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing waiting for my train, holding a ticket with another woman’s name on it.
I looked up at the beautiful skylights and watched the darker clouds move in when a streak of lightning struck across the sky.
Thirty seconds later, thunder rattled the glass panes, and a light summer rain started. In minutes, it was pouring, and the rain beat down on the glass ceiling.
It seemed appropriate. I’d hated the rain in the summer when I was younger, the way the air seemed to hang heavy right before the sky opened up. It would be hot and humid, then the rain would force us inside. It made everything wet, and the bright blue sky was replaced with a depressing gray.
It took me a while to understand that rain could be wonderful.
Just before it rained and while it stormed, I was miserable, stuck inside but after… After the rain, that was what was important.
The sky came back, seeming stronger, more brilliant than before.
The sun dried the dampness, and everything was brighter, cleaner, and fresher. It was like looking at the world through a window that had just been cleaned, even though you hadn’t realized how dirty it was.
It was a fresh start.
Was this my summer storm?
Would everything be hard and depressing for a bit, but brighter when I reached the other side? Could this be what I needed to reset my life?
