“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, and magazines, 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 good plan.”
Charlotte dragged the mannequin toward the window overlooking First Avenue, Yorkshire Falls’ main strip. She’d been fortunate in nabbing the perfect location, formerly Guy’s Clothing Store. Charlotte wasn’t worried about putting another retail store in the space because her merchandise kept up with the times. She’d had six months at the old rental before a rent increase kicked in, time enough to get her business off the ground, and her success told her she was on the right track.
“Listen, I’m starving. I’m going to grab some dinner next door. Want to join me?” Beth grabbed her jacket off the rack in the back and slipped it on.
“No, thanks. I think I’ll stick around and put some finishing touches on the window display.” Charlotte and Beth had accomplished an almost complete overhaul of inventory today. It was easier to get things done when the store was closed than during business hours. The customers didn’t just enjoy shopping, they enjoyed chitchat as well.
Beth sighed. “Suit yourself. But your social life is pathetic. Even I’m better company than those mannequins.”
Charlotte started to laugh, then glanced at Beth and saw something more in her friend’s eyes than a good joke. “You miss him, don’t you?”
Beth nodded. Her fiancé had come up almost every weekend, staying Friday through Sunday night before returning to the city for the work week. Since he’d missed this weekend, Charlotte figured Beth probably wasn’t looking forward to another lonely meal.
Neither was Charlotte. “You know what? Go get a table and I’ll meet you there in five . . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of a man outside the window.
Jet-black hair gleamed in the sunlight and a pair of sexy sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his face from view. A worn denim jacket covered his broad shoulders, and jeans hugged his long legs. Charlotte’s stomach did a flip, bringing a warm sensation to her belly as recognition flickered with possibility.
She blinked, certain she’d been mistaken, but he’d backed far enough away that he was gone from view. She shook her head. Impossible, she thought. Everyone in town knew Roman Chandler was off traveling and reporting the news. Charlotte had always respected his ideals, the burning desire to expose unreported injustices, even if she didn’t understand the needs that kept him far from home.
His aspirations had always reminded her of her actor father’s. So had his good looks and charm. A wink, a smile, and women swooned at his feet. Heck, she’d swooned, and after a lot of flirting and lingering looks, they’d gone on their first date. One night—a night in which she’d connected with Roman on a meaningful level. She’d fallen hard and fast, as only a teenage girl could. And a night during which she’d discovered Roman’s intention to leave Yorkshire Falls as soon as the opportunity arose.
Charlotte’s father had abandoned his wife and child for Hollywood years before. With Roman’s declaration, she’d immediately recognized the devastation he could leave in his wake.
She had only to look to her mother’s lonely life to find the nerve to act on her conviction. She’d walked away from Roman that same night, lying that he didn’t “do it” for her. And she hadn’t let herself look back, no matter how badly she hurt—and she had hurt.
Look, don’t touch. Smart rules for a girl who wanted her heart and soul intact. She might not feel like dating now, but when the right man showed himself, she would. Until then, she’d abide by her rules. She had no intention of following the same path her mother had taken, waiting for the wanderer to sporadically return, so she wouldn’t involve herself with a restless soul like Roman Chandler. Not that she had to worry about such a thing. No way was he in town, and if he were, he’d steer clear of her.