Chasing Serenity (River Rain 1)

So she was noticing something was up with Sasha too.

And that was going to be on me to help out with…

Too.

“We’ll plan that,” I replied.

“Starting next month, I’ll be in LA for three weeks of script run-throughs, wardrobe, that kind of stuff,” she reminded me for some reason since I already knew this. “I’m trying to spend as much time with Duncan as possible before I go. He’s going to spend the first week with me there, but he has to get back after that.”

With nothing better to say about information I already knew, I said, “All right.”

“I also have a wedding to plan, and I’d like my girls to be involved in that.”

Instantaneously, I wanted to vomit.

“I’d never speak to you if you didn’t,” I forced out one of those rare lies that hurt to tell.

“Chloe, are you okay?”

I was for a day and a half, I’m not now.

“I’m fine, Maman,” I said, my tone much warmer than it had been, and not only because the walk-through was complete, and outside that sweater, Mi-Young had left things just as they should be.

“All right, darling. I’ll leave you alone now.”

I never wanted my mother to feel like she was bothering me.

But I needed her to leave me alone now.

“Okay, speak soon,” I replied.

“Yes, soon. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Impossible,” she whispered.

God, I was such a bitch.

I made a kiss kiss noise and quickly hung up.

I then took a second to pull my shit together.

After that, I walked back to my office, grabbed my laptop from where it was locked in my credenza, the float from the safe, headed back out and set up the checkout desk.

I turned on our sound system, selecting a classy jazz duo playlist (piano and guitar) that I thought went great with the décor (I also allowed piano jazz, meditation classical, Yo-Yo Ma, Nina Simone, Diana Krall, Etta James, Billie Holliday, Harry Connick, Jr., Michael Bublé…and Lizzo).

Before I officially opened, I made certain the back door had caught, was bolted, and the alarm for that door was on, and then I headed up front to unlock that door.

I pulled the string on the neon sign by the window that was white against a gold background and said in a loping script Open. It was next to one of my window displays, these redone every two months. A display that I knew was stunning (they all were, and I did say so myself). I knew this because people often stopped and stared (then came in).

In fact, my front displays were getting to be a thing, with regulars and locals coming just to check them out (the former because I sent the news there was a fresh one in our newsletter).

I then turned to my store, which, after much consideration, and from the aesthetic, to the branding, to the décor, it worked perfectly, so I’d called it Velvet, and all at once, it washed over me.

I’d gone full-on art deco.

The focal point was a quartet of peach velvet, tulip swivel chairs on brass bases in the middle of the space flanking a low glass and brass coffee table.

The back wall was upholstered in tufted squares of the same peach velvet. The other walls were white.

There were round mirrors of varying sizes everywhere and geometric brass and white ceramic accoutrements. Even the brass-framed glass shelves were geometric, with the shelves being straight-sided ovals.

There was plenty of space to mill about. Not a single rack on the floor. All clothing rails and shelves were against the walls.

However, there were some glass-topped round tables with folded sweaters, tees or scarves, display stands containing jewelry, or glossy, milky ceramic counters topped with scented candles, lotions or bath treatments dotting the space. Though not a one of them was tall enough to in any way obstruct the eyeline from that upholstered wall.

All of this gave a feeling of lightness, openness. There was plenty of room to move around. Not a single nook existed where you would have to awkwardly squeeze past anyone.

And there was utterly no clutter.

I had a good deal of stock from numerous up and coming designers, a few established ones, some exceptional basics, and some pieces from artists.

But Velvet did not overwhelm you upon entry or at any moment when you were in it.

It might intimidate you because it was just that stylish.

But the bright, somewhat romantic, somewhat fun interior beckoned.

And hopefully eventually enveloped in warmth and inclusivity.

I made my way to the checkout desk and had just opened my Mac to pull up email and check if any online orders had come through that needed to be dealt with when the slight beep that sounded when the door was opened brought my attention to the front of the shop.

And my head immediately ticked to the side with who I saw stroll in.