You Are Not Alone(59)

A woman approaches and I recognize her instantly: She’s the glossy girl from Amanda’s memorial service—the one with shiny hair, skin, and nails. Today she’s in wide-legged dark-rinse jeans and a camel-colored silk blouse.

“Welcome,” she says as she draws closer. She falters, her eyes widening, as her smile dims. “I’m Daphne.”

“Hi, I’m Shay.” I wait expectantly, but my name doesn’t seem to ring a bell.

Perhaps Cassandra and Jane forgot to mention I would be stopping by.

“Shay. Nice to meet you…” She looks me up and down. Maybe she’s wondering why someone like me would be in this posh boutique.

“Are you looking for anything special?” she finally asks.

Now I am certain she has no idea who I am. Cassandra and Jane suggested I come here to get an outfit for my date with Ted. Her things are expensive, but she has really terrific sales—you never know what you’re going to find, Cassandra had said. And you’re going to love Daphne!

“Uh, I have this date coming up. And our mutual friends Cassandra and Jane suggested I come here.…”

Daphne looks surprised again, but she recovers quickly. “Oh! How wonderful. They’re two of my favorite people.”

“Yeah, they’re really great.”

She can’t seem to stop staring at me. Then she gives her head a little shake, as if to clear it. “So, a date,” she says briskly. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s actually a first date. We’re just grabbing a drink.”

“I’ve got some pretty tops over here.” She leads me to a rack and flips through a few. She holds one up against me. It’s a bold blue with a low, asymmetrical neckline. “This would go great with your coloring.”

She continues going through the rack, pulling out a few more for me to try on. She carries them into the dressing room, which has a soft, tufted chair, a huge mirror, and sleek silver bars on the walls. She hooks the tops of the hangers on the bars, then closes the curtain. I’m pulling off my sweater when I hear her voice close by. She must be just on the other side of the curtain.

“So how do you know Cassandra and Jane?”

I have to sidestep that question. There’s no way to easily explain our convoluted friendship. “Oh, through a mutual acquaintance.” I tell myself it isn’t a complete lie. I keep talking so she doesn’t ask me for more details. “We’ve actually been hanging out a lot lately. We had drinks the other day.”

She’s silent for a moment. I wonder if she’s still just outside the curtain.

I try on the blue top first. I would never have chosen it for myself, but Daphne is right: It looks good on me.

Then I check the price tag. It’s $280—more than I’ve ever spent on a shirt before.

I look at the tags on the other ones and see they cost even more. I’m not going to bother trying them on.

I gaze at myself in the mirror again. I imagine walking into the bar to meet Ted in this pretty top. I picture him smiling, pleased to see me.

Plus, I feel like I have to buy something.

I slip the shirt off and hang it carefully on the padded hanger. I put back on my simple gray sweater, then I step out of the dressing room.

Daphne is over by the cash register, typing something on her phone. She slips it facedown on the counter when she sees me.

“That was fast. Did anything work for you?”

I hold up the hanger and give it a little waggle. “You were right. This is perfect.”

She smiles—it looks a little forced—and takes it from me. “Great.” She rings me up.

She isn’t making conversation now. She seems to be concentrating on folding the top into tissue paper. I slide my credit card into the chip reader, suppressing a wince.

A silver pen is on a pretty notebook splayed open on the counter. I see people have written their names, addresses, and emails in neatly outlined rows. A little sign is nearby: PLEASE SHARE YOUR DETAILS WITH DAPHNE TO BE THE FIRST TO HEAR ABOUT OUR UPCOMING SALES AND PRIVATE EVENTS!

Daphne is still busy tucking the tissue-paper bundle into a bag and tying the handles with a bow. Without much thought, I pick up the pen and add my name to the mailing list.

Then I get to the column for my address. I automatically begin to write my old address. Then my hand stops.

I don’t live there anymore. I live in Amanda’s apartment—one that Daphne likely visited.

She’ll probably recognize the address. How could I ever explain that?

With Cassandra and Jane, everything has unfolded in a series of steps: First, I confessed to them how I’d encountered Amanda on the subway platform and was affected by her death. That was when we got tea after unexpectedly seeing one another on the rainy day when I was at my lowest and had conjured a vision of Amanda. A few days later, we met at Bella’s so I could return Cassandra’s raincoat. We drank Moscow Mules, and I explained how I’d found the necklace. When I learned it was actually Jane’s, I got it back for her, which all led to us getting together again. They learned more about my living situation when they met Sean and Jody, which resulted in them offering me a house-sitting gig and introducing me to their friend Anne. And then, when Amanda’s apartment came up for rent, they encouraged me to take it.

It all happened so organically. Still, there’s no way I can explain it to Daphne; I can barely keep it straight in my own mind.