“It didn’t work out,” Melanie said, feeling partly ashamed and partly irritated. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just over. Where should I put these?” She held out the stack of neatly folded scarves like an offering.
“That shelf,” Abby said, pointing to the far wall. “Next to the veils. Were you the one who broke it off?”
Melanie finished arranging the scarves and tossed the empty box across the room. She frowned at the pile of them mounting in the doorway. “I should probably take those out to the trash bin.”
Abby folded her arms over her chest, obscuring most of the hot-pink “Shimmy Shop” logo she had screened onto teeny-tiny black camisoles. Her personal version of a uniform. “Uh-uh, you’re not going to change the subject this time. Tell me what happened.”
Melanie sighed. She ran a perfectly shaped red fingernail along her bottom lip to fix a nonexistent lipstick smudge, patted the tube curl of her honey-brown bangs, and nudged the scarlet silk rose over her ear. Yeah, she was stalling. What was the point of hurrying when she knew whatever she said next would be followed by a lecture?
Abby still had that look.
“Here’s the thing,” Melanie said.
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