Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
The attendant, an older woman with deep lines, bottle-blonde hair, and massive hoop earrings, was sitting behind the counter. She was nice enough to let me use her bathroom to change into my own clothes, popping her gum and pointing the way with a long, bright-pink stiletto fingernail.
I got changed into another summer dress I remembered buying at Saks last summer. Mother had curled her lip at the red paisley flutter dress by Tommy Hilfiger, but I loved it. It felt young, free, and the hem was just short enough for me to be a little daring.
The maids could have packed this, but I liked to think there was a reason it was in the bag Rose grabbed for me. It was a sign. I needed to be free and daring.
I slipped on the dress and a pair of comfortable wedges. Holding the clothes I stole from Luc, I considered throwing them in the trash can, but they still smelled like him. In a moment of weakness, I stuffed them into my bag and went back out to the front desk.
When I approached the counter, she was flipping through a Vogue magazine, looking uninterested until I started pulling designer bags from the duffle.
I set a few Saint Laurent bags, a Gucci from this season, and three Hermès Birkin bags all on the glass counter.
She immediately wrapped her hands around the Birkin made from ostrich leather dyed to a creamy color called Parchemin. I didn’t think I had ever even carried that bag. I had asked for the one in a rich sky blue called Bleu France, but Mother had decided the ostrich was more ladylike.
“You steal these?” The attendant examined the bags and jewelry as I laid them out on the dingy, scratched glass counter.
“No, I’m Amelia Mae Astrid. You can call the designers and give them the serial numbers on the inside lip of the bags. They will confirm I’m the owner.” I handed her my ID. “Just please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
“One minute. I have the database. You aren’t the first wealthy woman that needed to buy herself a new life.” She tapped away on her computer as I looked around the small, dusty shop. It was full of lost treasures, and I wondered what had happened to make people give up pieces of their lives.
I considered what she had just said—not the first woman who needed to buy a new life. What did that say about my world if this had happened before, and from the sounds of it, fairly often? I didn’t have time to think about those women. Right now, I needed to worry about myself.
A pendant in the corner caught my eye. It was bright red, almost orange, and the way it caught the light was stunning. It was large and clunky, and my mother would call it garish.
“How much for this?” I asked. The attendant looked over the rim of her glasses.
“You don’t want that, it’s not really your style.” She motioned to the things I was selling, all high-priced, dainty, and chic.
“Maybe I am looking for a new style.”
She regarded me for a second and nodded before unlocking the case and pulling the necklace out. “It’s a Mexican fire opal. This one is large but flawed. I can give it to you for two hundred and fifty dollars.”
“Sold.” I shouldn’t be buying anything. I needed to save my money, at least until Harrison was able to get my bank accounts freed from my parents.
“Okay. I checked out the bags. You are good to go. I can buy all of them today except for this Birkin. There isn’t enough in the till.” She reluctantly handed me back the bag that I had thought was just dull.
“Tell you what, could you trade it for that red Alexander McQueen bag in the window?”
“The large bucket?” she asked, curling her lip.
“That is the one.”
“That’s nowhere near the same cost.”
“Then call it a bargain. Or put the money for the McQueen bag in yourself and take home the Birkin.” I shrugged. “Your choice.”
Her eyes lit up. For so many women, owning a Birkin bag was something that they could only dream of. Even if they could get the money together, it was still almost impossible to get their hands on one.
“Are you sure?” Her eyes were still huge.
“Yes, but I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
I took my cash and my new imperfect fire opal necklace and red purse and caught a cab to Penn Station.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing waiting for my train, holding a ticket with another woman’s name on it.
I looked up at the beautiful skylights and watched the darker clouds move in when a streak of lightning struck across the sky.
Thirty seconds later, thunder rattled the glass panes, and a light summer rain started. In minutes, it was pouring, and the rain beat down on the glass ceiling.