Page 34 of The Girl He Loves
She settles in the antique velvet arm chair across from me. “Oh, I’m working on a fashion binder,” she explains. “I’ve got all my old fashion magazines out. It’s all clothing I like. It’s inspiration,” she explains. “When I troll the thrift stores and consignment shops, I try to find similar stuff.”
I wince inwardly. The idea of shopping at thrift stores makes me a little sick. I can barely handle consignment shops. “Cool. Speaking of which, I found a great consignment shop you might like.”
“Really? What’s it called?” she asks, excited.
I flip through the torn magazine pages, and study the photos of perfect girls dressed in designer clothing most women could never afford. “Restyle for You.”
“Oh, yes,” she says. “I know that place. Great place. The owners are a gem.”
My heart stops for a second. What a small world. I’m thrilled to find out that Claudia knows Renee too.”
“Yes, I met the woman,” I tell her. “I was there a week or two ago.”
Claudia raises a brow. “I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who buys second-hand.”
“I usually don’t,” I admit, “but I heard about this place… trying to save money, you know.”
A long breath escapes her. “Tell me about it.”
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I say.
“Uh…” Her brows knit together in confusion for a second, “Oh, the owner, Renee… yes, she’s gorgeous.”
“What did you think of her?” I ask.
Claudia studies me for a long second before replying. “Uh… she’s great. Friendly… God, I’d love to have her body.”
My stomach sinks. “What are you complaining about?” I tease. “You have that enviable hourglass figure most women would kill for, the kind of body men’s heads flip around for.”
She laughs. “Well, men may like it, but as far as fashion goes, it’s not ideal.”
“Well, we all have something to complain about, don’t we,” I say. “I don’t particularly love my A cups and tiny rear. I have the body of a thirteen year old boy.”
She laughs out loud. “Brian doesn’t seem to mind,” she points out. “You’re lucky. Petite women like you can wear the cutest clothes. I’d just look silly.”
“Do you know her well?” I ask, not letting the subject go.
Claudia studies me curiously. “No… not really.”
“Have you met her husband? Her kids?” I ask.
She sits up straight and studies me with a dubious expression. “Uh… no. Have you?”
I’ve gone too far. Just as I’m about to change the subject, there’s a playful knock at the door. I breathe a sigh of relief when Claudia stands to answer it. “Finally, they’re here.”
I’m still flipping through the fashion images, mesmerized by the colors and styles, when Gretchen and Abigail make their way in. We exchange quick hugs and Claudia fetches cookies from the kitchen and makes them tea; red velvet cupcake for Gretchen and peppermint for Abigail.
“Sorry, we were at the bookstore down the street,” Gretchen explains. “I wanted to buy the new E.L. James.”
Claudia smiles widely. “Look at our little Gretchen. She looks so prim and proper, but secretly, she’s a naughty little girl.”
Gretchen blushes, still holding the book store bag in her hand as she settles on the sofa, next to me.
“Can I see it?” I ask.
She shyly slips it out of the bag and hands it to me. I study it for a long time. I love the cover — very esthetically pleasing. A whisper of a smile traces my lips when I hand it back.
“You can borrow it when I’m done,” she says.
