Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
- Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Summer
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Fall
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Readers Guide
- Questions for Discussion
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
She closed Laura’s door behind her and looked across the hall at Bob’s. She could hear Asher and Maggie laughing in the kitchen, and shook her head as she went upstairs to grab her shoes. If Laura wasn’t ready for the truth, there wasn’t much Polly could do about it, and it’s not like she was any model of self-awareness herself. Reaching her room, she realized the shoes she wanted were in the kitchen, and hesitated.
When she came downstairs, Laura had just come out of her room and smiled up at her.
“You changed your whole outfit,” she said. “I like those shoes.”
“Me too,” said Polly, heading out the door.
THIRTY-FIVE
The next day, after the bookstore closed, Nina and Polly took Laura to Goodwill, the first step in the Laura Costello Fashion Upgrade. Laura was already sporting her first new hairstyle, a simple pair of fishtail braids. The demonstration side was perfect, the other was . . . less perfect, but Polly said it would come with practice. Then she’d added big red ribbon bows to the bottom of the braids, which she said would provide “visual distraction.” Then she’d prevented Laura from undoing the braids and even now was watching her carefully.
Threading their way through a small tent city that had sprung up around the Goodwill’s perimeter, Nina and Laura had to wait for Polly to greet someone she knew, and Nina sighed.
“It doesn’t matter where we go, Polly always knows someone.”
“Even in a homeless encampment?”
Nina nodded and Polly rejoined them.
“Sorry,” she said. “Catching up with a friend.” She smiled at them and gestured to the wide doorway of the thrift store. “Shall we?”
Laura was overwhelmed by the clutter and endless rows of racks, organized by color or by purpose. Outerwear. Women’s tops. Men’s shoes. Children. But Nina and Polly had obviously been here more times than they could count, and waved at the women working behind the counter.
“Miss Hill,” said one of them, an elderly woman wearing a feathered hat and a determined expression, “I have something for you.”
“Miss Johnson,” replied Nina, “how very kind.” She went over to investigate, and Polly took Laura by the arm and led her away.
“It doesn’t matter where we go,” she said. “Nina always knows someone.”
“Huh,” said Laura, hiding a smile.
“So,” said Polly, “I saw your Pinterest boards, I get it. You like bold colors and big statements, and certainly you have the height for it, but I think we should work up to the seventies leather coat and Pucci pattern look.”
“But I love that look,” protested Laura.
Polly shook her finger. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter how inexpensive the clothes are, if you never wear them, they cost too much. Especially if they lurk in your closet and make you feel bad every time you look at them.”