Avoiding each other turned out to be the only solution. I haven’t seen him since Saturday morning when he gave me the Christmas party invitation. Although, when I unlock the window box every morning and step inside, I swear the scent of peppermint is lingering in the air. Then again, that might just be wishful thinking on my part. I mean, come on. It’s not like he’s coming in here and pining for me before the store opens.
Right?
I’m not ready to let go of the belief that you’re mine yet.
“Hey!”
I squeak a little when Jordyn clicks into the window box on a pair of electric-blue heels, wiping away the visions in my mind of a yearning man in a bow tie. Almost.
“I came to check your progress.”
There’s something a little jumpy about my new friend’s demeanor today. Even after knowing Jordyn for only a short period, though, I know better than to ask what’s on her mind right away. We’ll get there eventually. Or more likely, she’ll reveal something under her breath and pretend I wasn’t supposed to hear it.
I swipe some sandwich crumbs off the lap of my black skirt and stand, re-tucking the edges of my dark green, long-sleeved shirt into my waistband—and I did not wear this to be festive. Definitely not. The green is just a coincidence. “It’s coming along well,” I say, looking down at the mannequin that is the focal point of the window. “It’s nice not to be in a huge rush with this window. I can take my time with Norma.”
“Excuse me,” Jordyn says. “You named the mannequin?”
“Oh, she has a whole persona. She’s thirty-nine. A single, career-driven lady who is about to make partner at her firm. But with one month to go until she turns forty, she realizes how little self-care there is in her life. When was the last time she pampered herself? Never, that’s when. And she isn’t planning on it now. There is work to be done.” I reach down to brush the fine edge of Norma’s bangs. “She has some good friends, though. College roommates. And they know her better than she knows herself. They see she’s only doing for others. All she gives herself is pressure. So they give her the gift of rediscovering her physical beauty with a smoky eye kit from Chanel and the 24k Gold Mask from Peter Thomas Roth.”
“Ah, that’s why you asked me to order more stock.” Jordyn steps back, seeming to look at Norma in a new light. “I see what you’re doing here. You’re treating the window as her mirror. It’s like a two-way glass into a woman’s bathroom and she’s getting ready for the night.”
“Everyone has an inner voyeur. It’ll be impossible to pass by the window when a woman is looking right at them applying mascara.”
The corners of Jordyn’s mouth lift into a smile. “You kept your word. This is definitely going to send customers to my department.” She runs a finger along the collar of Norma’s cherry blossom silk robe. “They’re going to want this little number, too. You spoke to women’s apparel about having extra on hand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good, I might have to snag one for myself,” Jordyn mutters, tugging on an ear.
There’s my opening. “Oh? Have you got someone to impress?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” she says breezily, clicking to the other side of the window to examine the candle sconces affixed to the rear wall. “Would you believe Seamus asked me to the Christmas party on Thursday? He wants me to walk in with him. Like a couple. I’m going to look like a chaperone taking her step-nephew to the prom or something.”
“Uh…” This has me genuinely puzzled. “You’re not that much older than him, Jordyn. And if he’s not bothered by it—understatement—maybe you don’t have to be?”
She chews on the inside of her cheek. Crosses and uncrosses her arms. “Listen, I swear I don’t have a type. Nothing like that. But my ex happened to be younger by three years and he liked to remind me of that. He’d point it out all the time, sort of implying that he could be out partying, instead of home with me. Like I was forcing him to be there. Like he was doing me a favor.”
“And now you hear his voice in your head, no matter how badly you want to block it.”
“Yeah.” She looks at me, expression shrewd. “You have some experience with that?”
I nod, but keep my lips clamped together. This thing with Nicole is too current to speak about. It’s not in the past yet. “Is Seamus similar in any other way to your ex?”
“No. God no. For one, Seamus can dance.” She curses, shakes her head. “We shared a little kiss at a staff party once. It was smooth, I’ll give him that. But Friday night? I did not see the hip movements coming. He was giving me a dick preview. That’s what it was. A dick. Preview. He’s actually got me wondering about the feature presentation now. Damn it.”
My sides hurt from the sudden need to laugh. “Answer without thinking. Do you want to go to the party with him?”
“Yes.” She tilts her head back and groans. “Fuck my life.”
“Sorry.”
Jordyn sighs, fluttering a hand as if to shoo away the topic of Seamus. “Speaking of the Christmas party, you’re coming, right?”
Not a chance.
I avoid looking at her, stooping down to gather up the empty soda can from my lunch and some balled up napkins. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe?”
“How do we make that a definitive yes?” She seems to be choosing her words carefully. “I know you haven’t gotten that first check yet—and I was in your shoes once. If you need to borrow something? Or we can talk to womenswear about discounting a dress for you—”
Jordyn is cut off when a security guard walks into the window box.
He’s followed by two more security guards.
Mrs. Bunting from human resources brings up the rear, clutching a folder to her chest with my name on it. “The one in the green shirt. That’s her—Stella Schmidt. She’s our only employee with a criminal record and I’d like her searched, please.”
The ground tilts beneath me.
In the matter of a second, I’m ice cold. My teeth are chattering, the sandwich in my stomach threatening to come up.
“Searched for what?” Jordyn demands to know.
“I just ran an inventory report. We are missing two very expensive pairs of earrings. Diamonds. Miss Schmidt has been here after hours every night for a week. She must have found a way into the locked cases and taken them. There’s no other explanation.”
“I didn’t take anything,” I wheeze, pressing a hand to my pitching stomach. “I swear. I didn’t. I-I don’t have access to the display cases—”
She snorts. “I’m sure someone like you has ways.”
Am I terrified right now? Oh yeah. I’m shaking so hard my muscles are beginning to ache. But there is also a part of me that’s oddly relieved. I’m not getting special treatment. I’m getting what so many of my fellow inmates spoke about. The unfair, unfounded suspicions, the assumptions placed on them by society. I’m finally getting a glimpse of that—albeit on a much smaller scale—and I’m almost grateful it’s finally happening. The other shoe is dropping. My luck has run out. Ironic that I didn’t do the crime this time, but so be it.