“Because you’ve dated the wrong men? Or maybe it’s because you don’t give them a chance. Besides, it’s a proven fact that the packaging attracts a man first. A smart guy, the right guy, will get to know you and then you can blow him away with your brilliant brainpower.”
“Men who go for looks first are too shallow.”
“There you go again. Jumping to generalized conclusions. And I beg to differ.” Beth placed her hands on her hips and scowled Charlotte’s way. “It’s the packaging that makes the first impression,” she insisted.
Charlotte wondered why Beth could assert one thing when she was living proof of another. If Beth believed in a man being attracted to packaging first and then getting to know and appreciating a woman for who and what she was, why had she undergone plastic surgery after meeting her fiancé? Charlotte cared too much for her friend to hurt her by asking.
“Look at this store, for example.” Beth waved a hand through the air. “You sell the packaging, and hence you’re responsible for the rejuvenation of many relationships and marriages that have gotten stale.”
“I can’t argue with you there.” Charlotte had been told the same thing by many of her customers.
Beth grinned. “Half the women in this town are getting lucky, thanks to you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
Her friend shrugged. “Whatever. The point is, aren’t you sending the message that packaging is important?”
“I’d rather think I’m sending the message that it’s okay to be yourself.”
“I think we’re saying the same thing, but I’ll drop it for now. Did I tell you David offers packages? Eyes and chin, uplifts and implants.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Beth had been perfect before going under the knife, and Charlotte still didn’t understand what had compelled her to think she needed to change. And Beth obviously wasn’t talking. Just advertising her soon-to-be husband’s services.
“Has anyone mentioned you’re beginning to sound like an advertisement for your plastic surgeon?”
Beth smiled. “But of course. I plan to marry the man. Why not boost his business and our joint bank account at the same time?”
Beth’s mercenary words were at odds with the sweet, down-to-earth woman Charlotte knew her to be. Another subtle change in Beth that Charlotte had noticed since her return. Like Charlotte, Beth had been born and raised in Yorkshire Falls. And like Charlotte had once done, Beth would move to New York City soon. Charlotte hoped her friend enjoyed the bright lights and big city. She remembered her own experience there with mixed feelings. At first, she’d loved the busy streets, the frantic pace, the glow of light and life even late at night. But once the newness faded, an emptiness grew. After living in a close-knit community like Yorkshire Falls, the loneliness had been overwhelming. Something Beth wouldn’t have to deal with, since she was moving to New York to be with her husband.
“You know I’m never going to be able to replace you,” Charlotte said wistfully. “You’re the perfect assistant.” When Charlotte had decided to leave her sales manager job at a posh New York City boutique and open Charlotte’s Attic back home, it hadn’t taken more than one phone call to convince Beth to leave her job as a receptionist at a real estate office to come work with Charlotte.
“I’m going to miss you too. This job has been more rewarding than anything else I’ve done.”
“That’s because you’re finally putting your talent to use.”
“Thanks to your vision. This place is incredible.”
Charlotte merely blushed. She’d been worried about a chic boutique succeeding in her small, upstate hometown. It was Beth who’d pushed and supported her emotionally during the preopening stages. Charlotte’s concern had been unwarranted. Thanks to television, the Internet, blogs, Youtube and every other social media platform, Yorkshire Falls’ women were ready for fashion. Her store was a hit—if somewhat of an oddity among the old-time shops that still remained.
“Speaking of talent, I’m so glad we chose this aqua color instead of black.” Beth fingered the strings tied tightly around the back of the mannequin.
“It’s the exact color of the water off the Fiji Islands. The Koro Sea, and the South Pacific Ocean.” Charlotte closed her eyes and envisioned the setting depicted in the brochures she had in her backroom office.
Not that she planned to travel, but the dream of faraway places had beckoned to her for as long as she could remember. As a young girl, pictures of idyllic resorts nurtured her hope that her errant father would return and share what she’d perceived as his glamorous life. Today she couldn’t squelch the occasional urge to see exotic places, but she feared that desire made her too much like her father—selfish, shallow, and ungiving—so she settled for photos instead. Like the ones in her office portraying glistening water, white frothing waves, and hot sun heating bare skin.
“Not to mention the aqua color will complement the rest of the summer window display?”
Beth’s voice intruded on Charlotte’s thoughts and she opened one eye. “That too. Now be quiet and let me return to my daydream.” But the spell had been broken.
“It’s hard to get used to looking at bathing suits when we’re just coming off winter.”
“I know.” Besides luxurious and basic undergarments, Charlotte also sold some fashionable eclectic pieces—sweaters in the winter, bathing suits and matching cover-ups in the summer. “But the fashion world works on its own schedule.”
And so did Charlotte. The cold air had barely begun to give way to a slight March warming trend, but Charlotte dressed for the summer season anyway, in shockingly bright colors and light fabrics. What had started as a bid to lure people into her store had worked. Now word of mouth brought people to her store, and she’d grown to love the clothes she wore.
“I was thinking we could put the bathing suits in the right-hand corner of the display,” Charlotte told Beth.
“Sounds like a
