of the more outrageous clothes she’d collected over the years.
Take today, for instance. Her halter top had nothing but three straps across her back and her leather pants looked as if they’d been spray-painted on. After all, everyone expected the daughter of Flo to look a certain way—why not give it to them?
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?” Cassie turned around on the sidewalk and faced a woman. She was dressed simply in jeans and a sleeveless blouse, little to no makeup, and looked to be around thirty. There was a two-year-old clinging to her hand. “Can I help you?”
“Are you going to sell…” The woman blushed a little, and bit her lower lip.
Cassie sighed. “Let me make this easy for you. Bare Essentials will be a fully stocked women’s store. If you’re embarrassed to ask for it, chances are good that we’ll carry it.”
The woman nodded, then laughed at herself. “I’m sorry. My name is Stacie Harrison. I’ve been wanting to introduce myself.”
Probably wanted to satisfy her curiosity about the new harlot in town. Behind Stacie, literally hanging out of the Tea Room, were Mrs. McIntyre and her sister Mrs. Hampton. Their mouths were turned down in disapproving frowns. Cassie lifted a hand and waggled her fingers at them.
“Well, I never,” one exclaimed.
“Really? You never?” Stacie tsked. “That’s just a shame, ma’am.”
Both of them let out a collective gasp and, with daggers in their gazes, vanished back inside.
Cassie turned and stared at Stacie, who giggled. “Are you insane? They’re going to make you miserable now.”
“No one can do that but me,” Stacie said calmly.
Whatever. Stacie’s social suicide was none of her business. Cassie had a shop to open. She was doing this, and people needed to just get used to it. Turning to enter her shop, she stopped when Stacie put a hand on her arm.
“Did you know we’re neighbors? I live three doors down from you on the hill. I made you cookies last week but my ex-husband—the jerk—called and annoyed me, and I ended up eating them all myself. With Suzie here—” she smiled down at her toddler “—I haven’t had a chance to make another batch.”
“You…made me cookies.”
“Yes.” She smiled brightly. “My ex is a surgeon, you see. And he was boinking the X-ray tech. But the good news is I got the house.”
Cassie let out a startled laugh.
“Anyway,” Stacie went on, “I like to cook off my stress. I was going to bring them to you, maybe sit down with a glass of iced tea or something, and talk.”
“I don’t drink iced tea.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay.” Stacie smiled. “Water would have worked.”
What the hell was this woman’s angle? “If you want to see the inside of Flo’s house, all you have to do is ask. You know what? I’m thinking of conducting tours.” She could make a fortune. Too bad it wasn’t money she needed.
Stacie looked confused in the face of her sarcasm. “Flo? Who’s Flo?”
Right. “You don’t know my mother?”
“Should I?”
“She lived in the house before I did.”
“Oh. I saw her a few times but I’m sorry to say I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting her. And…” She looked around to make sure they were alone. “You know, I always wanted to live there, up on the hill, but to tell you the truth, now that I’m there I’m realizing it’s awfully quiet. I’m going stir-crazy.”
Uh-huh. The ex-wife of a surgeon. Mother of…a very sticky-looking kid. Bored? Cassie didn’t believe it. Not in Pleasantville. No, the town she knew like the back of her own hand didn’t breed nice, compassionate people. It bred smallness. Meanness.
And she was here to repay that in kind. “I’ve got to get busy.”
“Sure. I’m hoping to bake again tonight. If I do, I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh.” Maybe Cassie should give tours of just the bedroom, show everyone the mirrored ceilings. Wait. Maybe they should sell mirrors to put on the ceilings!
“See you tomorrow then.” Stacie smiled. “I’m glad we met.”
Before Cassie could process the words, Stacie walked away, swinging her daughter’s hand.
She was glad they’d met.
But how could that be?
* * *
CASSIE SPENT THE rest of the day and the next readying the interior of the building. She’d been working on it all week, paying for manual labor when she had to, using high school seniors who were grateful for the cash.
And who didn’t remember her from her youth.
She was sure their parents did, and wondered what they thought of Cassie now, paying their sons to do work for a Tremaine.
Then wondered why she cared. She didn’t care. Not one little bit.
Oh, damn them all anyway. It burned like hell that she’d never accomplish that last thing on her list. In this town’s eyes, no matter what, she’d never become someone.
And it burned even more that she thought about it.
It angered her enough to forego the cheap labor for the day and to do it all herself. The boys seemed quite disappointed when she’d told them to go. Cassie wasn’t sure if that was because of the cash she paid them, or her overalls, under which she wore a comfy, but very skimpy, crop-top.
Didn’t matter. They were gone and she was alone. Contrary to popular belief, she was very capable of hard work. She loved hard work.
The alone part was a little unnerving since she wasn’t exactly here in town for a picnic. But surely she was safe.
She really wanted to think so. She had to think so.
She stood on a ladder, paint splattered across the front of her designer cargo overalls, enjoying the paint fumes, when her cell phone rang. She unclipped it from her belt and let out a happy smile at the Caller ID. “Kate, my love, you should see this delicious shade of pink I found. It simply screams ‘come in, you must buy a new sex toy.’”
“I’d love to see it. How does next Friday sound?”
Cassie’s grin widened. “You’re coming!”
“I’m coming,” she agreed, but with a surprising lack of enthusiasm. “I can’t miss the grand opening, now can I?”
Cassie set down her brush and backed down the ladder. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
