Two days later, Kerry stood outside the window of a nearby boutique, gazing at the racks of designer clothes inside.
“Nothing in here for me,” she told herself. But it was in the neighborhood, and she promised Vic that she’d be back to the tree stand within half an hour.
Her mission this morning was simple: to buy something suitable for tonight’s “casual” dinner date with Patrick—and Austin.
But this shop? The scalloped dark-green-and-white-striped awning over the storefront, the creamy brick fa?ade and dark-green-painted trim, not to mention the subtle lighting and understated elegance of the display window—all of it screamed money.
Of which Kerry currently had only two hundred dollars, in the form of the AmEx gift card that Gretchen had insisted she accept.
Two women passed her on the sidewalk, their arms laden with shopping bags. They gave her a quick, curious glance, then ducked into the shop.
She was about to enter too, when she caught sight of her reflection in the shop window. Just standing in the shadow of that mannequin made her feel inadequate. And tacky, and shabby, despite the fact that she’d showered and blown her hair dry earlier at the Kaplans’ apartment and was wearing her best (and only) pair of designer jeans, and the velvet blazer, which she’d felt elegant in—until just this minute.
It was cold on that sidewalk, and a clerk inside the shop was openly staring at her.
The air in the shop was perfumed, the carpet thick, and the ceiling high, with one huge chandelier dripping with crystal baubles. She flipped the tag on a perfectly simple navy sweater and winced. Fifteen hundred dollars, which was more than her first car had cost.
“Hi.” The salesgirl was young, barely twenty, Kerry guessed, with very blond hair pulled back from her face in a severe ponytail. She was dressed in all black. The girl touched the cuff of Kerry’s jacket. “I love this! Is it vintage?”
“Um, yeah,” Kerry said, surprised at the girl’s friendly manner. “At least I think so. I got it at a flea market.”
“I love shopping vintage.” She lowered her voice. “But don’t tell my manager. Now, what can I help you with?”
Kerry felt her anxiety level drop a notch. “I need something … special. But I’m not sure I can afford anything in here.”
The girl studied Kerry, and she felt even smaller and shabbier than when she was outside the shop. This was a mistake. She turned to go.
“Hey,” the girl said. “Don’t leave. I wasn’t judging you. I was just trying to figure out your sign.”
“My sign?”
“You know. Your astrological sign. I’ll bet you’re a Virgo. Am I right?”
Kerry’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”
“Oh, astrology is my superpower, along with hailing cabs and my flawless ability to shape eyebrows. And I’m a Virgo too, so I can spot one a mile away. I’m Astrid, by the way. We’re logical, practical, perfectionists with an eye for detail. That’s you too, I bet.”
“Guilty,” Kerry admitted. “I’m Kerry and I need something to wear for a dinner date tonight, and I’m panicky because I need to get back to work.”
“Where are you from? I swear I detect a Southern accent.”
“North Carolina.”
“The mountains, not the coast, right?”
“How did you…”
“I’m from Raleigh,” Astrid said. “You don’t meet a lot of Tarheels up here in the city.”
“You don’t have an accent at all,” Kerry said.
“Oh, honey,” Astrid drawled. “I’m an actress. I put it on and take it off as needed, like a pair of Spanx. Now, let’s find you a killer outfit. What were you thinking of spending?”
Kerry felt herself flush. “I’m kind of on a tight budget.”
“How tight a budget?”
“Two hundred,” Kerry whispered. “Impossible, I know…”
Astrid touched the cuff of Kerry’s jacket. “I gotchu, girl.”
She steered Kerry toward the back of the shop. “You’re an eight, right?”
“More like a ten.”
“Wait right here. I’ve been hoarding this one sweater for just the right customer.”
When Astrid reappeared, she was holding a cashmere sweater in a luscious deep teal. It had a keyhole neckline tied with a bow, and elbow-length sleeves.
“Isn’t this yummy? It’ll be spectacular with your coloring.”
Kerry ran her hand down the fabric. “How much?”
“It’s not that expensive,” the salesgirl said. “It’s marked way down because we’re already starting to get in our spring resort wear.”
“How bad is not bad?”
“One eighty-nine,” Astrid said, handing her the sweater. “Go put it on. I swear, it’s like this thing was waiting for you to walk in here and take it home.”
In the dressing room, Kerry removed her shirt and blazer and pulled the sweater over her head.
She held her breath when she turned to look in the mirror. The fit was perfect. The color was lovely, and the cashmere was softer than a baby’s sigh. She was changing back to her own clothes when she heard her phone ding to signal an incoming text. It was from Murphy, and in true Murphy form, it was short and to the point.
WHERE THE HELL R U?
“How’d you like it?” Astrid asked, pushing aside the curtain.
“I’ll take it, but I have to get back to work, like now,” Kerry said.
She followed the girl to the cash register and handed her the gift card.
“Do you work around here?” Astrid asked, as she rang up the sale.
“I’m working at our family’s Christmas tree stand on Abingdon Square. My brother just texted me that I need to get back there.”
“Wait. Is your brother Murphy?”
Kerry answered the question with another question. “You know my brother?”
Astrid laughed and flashed a dimple. “Honey, everybody in the neighborhood knows Murphy Tolliver. My boyfriend and I always get our trees from y’all.”
She wrapped the sweater in tissue and slipped it into a glossy shopping bag.
Kerry reached for the bag.
“Wait,” Astrid said. She darted over to a jewelry display. When she came back, she dropped something into the bag.
“That’s a little sercy from one Tarheel to another,” she said. “We can’t have you going out tonight without some pretty new earrings.”
“Now I know you’re a Southerner,” Kerry said. “I’ve never met anybody from outside North Carolina who knows that a sercy is a gift.”
“Like a lagniappe, if you’re from New Orleans,” Astrid agreed.
“But I can’t let you do this,” Kerry protested.
“Already done,” the girl said. “At my price, they’re practically free anyway.”
“Thanks,” Kerry said. “And when you come get your tree, I’ll throw in a free wreath.”
“It’s a deal,” Astrid said.
chapter 26
Kerry was half a block away from Abingdon Square when she spotted the crowd. People were swarming around the Christmas tree stand, waiting in line on the sidewalk, taking selfies in front of the TOLLIVER FAMILY CHRISTMAS TREE FARM sign and standing beside Spammy.
“What on earth?” she murmured, breaking into a trot, and then a full-out dash.