Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
And that was it.
They were out the door.
I stood in it for several seconds, watching them walk to his Cherokee before I realized I was doing it.
Then I closed and locked the door.
I stared at it and declared, “I’m not going to fall apart.”
I did not fall apart.
I tidied the pizza and beer bottles, then put the dishes in the washer. I packed up my laptop in preparation for the next day. I poured myself a glass of wine.
After I accomplished all that, I headed upstairs, brushed my hair, twisted it up again, pushed it back with a band, cleaned my face and slathered on a mask.
I read for half an hour as I sipped my wine.
I then took off the mask, moisturized, brushed my teeth, took the clip out of my hair and twisted a silk scrunchy in it. I walked my wineglass back down, rinsed it, turned out the lights, made sure all doors were secure, then I went upstairs and climbed in bed.
Lying there, wide awake in the dark, then and only then did I allow myself to fall apart.
And when I did, I was unsurprised I didn’t crumble away.
Instead, I shattered to pieces.
Chapter 15
The Allies
Chloe
The next day, I was inventorying the floor, checking to see we had browse availability of all sizes that were in stock, when I heard, “Excuse me.”
I turned and then smiled at a woman who was probably around my mother’s age. Great hair, fantastic pair of glasses, curvy figure, fabulous outfit.
She was also carrying two peach bags with black handles, and in bold, feminine script of gold foil written across the sides, my store’s name, Velvet.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“Mi-Young, your manager, told me you were the owner,” she said, tipping her chestnut-with-champagne-highlighted head toward the checkout desk where Mi was standing.
“I am.” I turned fully to the customer. “Is everything all right?”
“I just wanted to say, I drive by this store all the time. I noticed your windows months ago, but since I’m driving by, I never got the chance to really look at them. Even if I did, I would just expect it was another kind of store.”
I wasn’t sure by her demeanor that I wanted to know what kind of store she thought it was.
Even if she was carrying two bags containing my merchandise.
“I met someone for lunch down the way,” she went on. “Walked by, and saw you had a curvy model in your window. I couldn’t believe it. I came in, and then I couldn’t believe what I found.”
She seemed to have found a lot. I’d noticed her perusing and spending a good deal of time in our changing rooms.
And her bags were filled to the brim.
“I’m hoping your bags mean you found some things you adore,” I remarked.
“I did. And I found all of it in my size,” she stated.
She couldn’t know this, and I wasn’t going to tell her outside what she experienced. But I didn’t stock designers who didn’t go up to at least 3X and size twenty-four.
I smiled. “I’m so pleased.”
“Your clothes are stylish.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“You don’t get it. Shops like this…” She shook her head. “Your things are edgy. Chic. Current. For the most part, I find things that Bea Arthur would wear on Golden Girls. It’s okay, but it definitely tells me to act my age. I just don’t understand why my age has to be defined as waiting-for-my-grandchildren-to-be-born.”
“It doesn’t,” I replied firmly, sticking to only those two words, because if one got me started on this subject, I could rant on it for days.
And never get me started on the term “plus-size.”
I loathed it.
Women were women. There was no reason to segment them.
Label them.
Legs came in different lengths it was necessary for fit to note how a hem might fall.
But there were not “normal-sized” women and “plus-sized” women.
There were women.
The end.
“I know, and I’m glad you do too,” she replied. “I’m delighted to walk in a shop and not have to hold my breath that some styles I like won’t come in my size, and as such, won’t be for me. I’m thrilled that it’s all mixed together. Even your jewelry, which a lot of the time at other places doesn’t fit around my neck, or my wrist.” She lifted one of her bags. “Yours does.”
I kept smiling. “One of our lovely associates helps me make certain that everything we carry is inclusive.”
I was alluding to Jocelyn, who was on staff, but doubled as our body positive model on social media because she was a size 20, but mostly because she was fabulous, and she knew it.
Incidentally, I sold staff the merchandise at cost, and in most cases, let them pick what they wanted me to order before I purchased it for the store, so I could make sure they’d have the pieces they wanted, and they were wearing them fresh when the stock was on the floor.