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Authors: Vicki Essex
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was heading there straight after—then slipped out with her loaded backpack.
The Good Fortune was a few doors down the street and she didn’t want her family seeing her. She parked Daniel’s car in the tiny lot next to the shop, out of sight of the main thoroughfare. He’d lent it to her grudgingly, and only after Poh-poh had badgered him to be a good big brother and help his little sister out. It was good of him, considering how harsh she’d been last night. She shouldn’t have goaded him about his girlfriend or their future together. She should have been supportive and told him she was happy for him, but the misanthrope in her had insisted on pointing out the flaws in his plan. She supposed that was what came out of years of never being praised by her family. Not that it was an excuse.
The bell above the door jangled as she entered the shop. It was quiet before noon—a lot of folks were still in church. Big band jazz crooned from an old-fashioned radio in one corner. The place smelled faintly of patchouli and mothballs. Jam-packed racks of clothing barely left enough room for people to squeeze through. An adjoining room held household goods and small appliances lined up on metal shelves.
At the back of the store from behind a curtained doorway, a woman came out. For a moment, Tiff thought she’d walked into a fifties TV show, but the woman’s hair was all wrong for the era. She wore a bright blue tea-length housedress and a white apron adorned with big ruffles. A pair of cat-eye glasses hung off a beaded chain around her neck and her pumps clicked smartly across the parquet floor. Her face brightened, her pink lips parting in a huge smile.
“Tiffany? Tiffany Cheung?”
She had no idea who this woman was. She nodded with a helpless, questioning smile in answer.
“Maya Hanes, from high school.”
“Maya...” It was hazy at first, but then she remembered. Maya had been in a few of her classes. Back then, she’d kept her straight, sun-kissed brown hair in a slick ponytail. She’d run with the sporty crowd. She was still fit-looking, but her hair had been cut super short and was gelled into spikes. “Yes. Of course. Hello.”
“I’d heard you’d come home. Are you doing all right? Someone told me you were hit by a car.” She looked her over, beaming. “You look fantastic.”
“Um. Thanks. I wasn’t hit. It was a car accident. I’m fine.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Tiffany’s awkwardness increased when Maya hugged her. She held herself stiffly in the woman’s light grip.
“You own this shop now?” she felt compelled to ask as Maya let go.
“I bought the business and the building off the previous owners about a year ago. I actually specialize in vintage stuff now, but it’s always been a handy place for the locals to freshen up their wardrobes. How’ve you been? What are you up to these days? Are you moved back here permanently?”
“Only temporarily,” she said. Small talk was not Tiffany’s forte. She didn’t think Maya truly cared about what was happening in her life. They hadn’t been friends. They’d worked together on a group project in science once, but that was it.
“So, you’re on vacation?”
“I’m between jobs.”
“I see.” She nodded sagely, waiting for more details.
Tiff wished she could just get her business over with and move on. She was starting to think her mom was right—if she sold her clothes here, Maya would know right away she needed money. Considering small-town gossip, everyone else would know it, too, and then what would her parents say?
She was about to make her excuses and walk out when Maya nodded at her overstuffed backpack. “Hey, if you have clothes to sell, I could always use more stock.” She extended her hand for the bag.
Tiffany hesitated.
“Don’t worry. I know what you’re feeling. I assure you, I use absolute discretion when it comes to my customers. I don’t tell anyone where the clothes came from, and you
The Good Fortune was a few doors down the street and she didn’t want her family seeing her. She parked Daniel’s car in the tiny lot next to the shop, out of sight of the main thoroughfare. He’d lent it to her grudgingly, and only after Poh-poh had badgered him to be a good big brother and help his little sister out. It was good of him, considering how harsh she’d been last night. She shouldn’t have goaded him about his girlfriend or their future together. She should have been supportive and told him she was happy for him, but the misanthrope in her had insisted on pointing out the flaws in his plan. She supposed that was what came out of years of never being praised by her family. Not that it was an excuse.
The bell above the door jangled as she entered the shop. It was quiet before noon—a lot of folks were still in church. Big band jazz crooned from an old-fashioned radio in one corner. The place smelled faintly of patchouli and mothballs. Jam-packed racks of clothing barely left enough room for people to squeeze through. An adjoining room held household goods and small appliances lined up on metal shelves.
At the back of the store from behind a curtained doorway, a woman came out. For a moment, Tiff thought she’d walked into a fifties TV show, but the woman’s hair was all wrong for the era. She wore a bright blue tea-length housedress and a white apron adorned with big ruffles. A pair of cat-eye glasses hung off a beaded chain around her neck and her pumps clicked smartly across the parquet floor. Her face brightened, her pink lips parting in a huge smile.
“Tiffany? Tiffany Cheung?”
She had no idea who this woman was. She nodded with a helpless, questioning smile in answer.
“Maya Hanes, from high school.”
“Maya...” It was hazy at first, but then she remembered. Maya had been in a few of her classes. Back then, she’d kept her straight, sun-kissed brown hair in a slick ponytail. She’d run with the sporty crowd. She was still fit-looking, but her hair had been cut super short and was gelled into spikes. “Yes. Of course. Hello.”
“I’d heard you’d come home. Are you doing all right? Someone told me you were hit by a car.” She looked her over, beaming. “You look fantastic.”
“Um. Thanks. I wasn’t hit. It was a car accident. I’m fine.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Tiffany’s awkwardness increased when Maya hugged her. She held herself stiffly in the woman’s light grip.
“You own this shop now?” she felt compelled to ask as Maya let go.
“I bought the business and the building off the previous owners about a year ago. I actually specialize in vintage stuff now, but it’s always been a handy place for the locals to freshen up their wardrobes. How’ve you been? What are you up to these days? Are you moved back here permanently?”
“Only temporarily,” she said. Small talk was not Tiffany’s forte. She didn’t think Maya truly cared about what was happening in her life. They hadn’t been friends. They’d worked together on a group project in science once, but that was it.
“So, you’re on vacation?”
“I’m between jobs.”
“I see.” She nodded sagely, waiting for more details.
Tiff wished she could just get her business over with and move on. She was starting to think her mom was right—if she sold her clothes here, Maya would know right away she needed money. Considering small-town gossip, everyone else would know it, too, and then what would her parents say?
She was about to make her excuses and walk out when Maya nodded at her overstuffed backpack. “Hey, if you have clothes to sell, I could always use more stock.” She extended her hand for the bag.
Tiffany hesitated.
“Don’t worry. I know what you’re feeling. I assure you, I use absolute discretion when it comes to my customers. I don’t tell anyone where the clothes came from, and you
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