Page 18 of Shifting Gears

“I know!” Mila chirps, before wincing. “I mean, I was told about you.”

Eleanor’s hand clenches a little around Mila’s. “You were?”

Perhaps Dani hasn’t figured out who Eleanor is, but that doesn’t mean everyone else in town is in the same boat. Roots seem to go back far here. The more Eleanor involves herself, the more likely it is that she’s going to meet someone who will hate her on sight.

At first, Eleanor had been primarily worried about it affecting the objectivity of her project, but lately her concern is more personal.

“Word gets around. Especially when the Coopers are involved,” Mila says. “Dani told me about your car breaking down.”

Eleanor takes a deep, relieved breath. “Right. That makes sense.” It seems she’s destined to be known by everyone in town before she’s even met them, and not for the reason she’s so worried about.

“Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look like the kind of woman who needs new clothes,” Mila says. “Your outfit is probably worth half the stock of my shop.”

“I’m finding that nothing I own is really appropriate. What I wear isn’t conducive to relaxation,” Eleanor says. She plucks at her blazer. “According to Dani.”

Mila chuckles. “Sounds like her. So you’re looking for something more casual?”

“More comfortable, really. I can’t keep walking down my gravel driveway in stilettos.”

Mila laughs again. The ease of their conversation is surprising, and Mila leads her to another crowded corner of the shop. “This is where I keep most of my original pieces.”

The clothes on display are exactly what Eleanor is looking for. They’re understated but tasteful, simple cuts and colours in soft fabrics with nice accent pieces. Each of them looks good enough to be in a higher-end store, but as Eleanor sorts through, she sees that most of them have bargain-sale prices.

Examining the immaculate stitching on a blouse, Eleanor speaks up before Mila can disappear into the racks again. “These are incredibly low prices, Mila. You could make real money selling this stuff online, making a brand.”

Mila lets out a nervous guffaw. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Eleanor insists, holding up a jacket she fully intends on buying. “I know high-quality work when I see it.”

Mila turns fuchsia. “That’s—that’s super flattering, really, but I’m not sure it’s worth all that. And I don’t think people could afford it if I raised the prices. I do okay enough to keep the store.”

Eleanor frowns. Mila is criminally underselling her own talent. She isn’t going to push, but she can at the very least pay the girl what her work deserves.

“I’ll pay double for all of this,” Eleanor says decisively, grabbing a few items and starting to piece together her new wardrobe. “Do you have a fitting room?”

“What?” Mila says. She looks shell-shocked as Eleanor slings a few sundresses over her arm. “Oh, gosh, no. I can’t let you do that.”

“I insist. I’m still paying you less than what it’s worth.”

It takes some persuasion, but Eleanor finally manages to pay and leave the store with a new collection of jeans, flat-soled leather boots and sandals, and all of the original items she can find in her size, along with a few sundresses and plain cotton shirts. Eleanor practically has to run the transaction through herself, but in the end she leaves with several shopping bags and a very grateful Mila waving her out.

* * *

Eleanor gets the chance to take her new clothes for a test run two nights later when she sees Dani’s distinctive truck parked outside the River Run again.

If it weren’t for the fact that hanging out at the bar seems to be one of the only social activities in this town, Eleanor might think Dani has some kind of drinking problem. But it’s Friday night, and every other car in town is either in the parking lot or out on the streets surrounding the building. Eleanor finds a spot across the road to leave her Porsche. Two men taking a smoke break outside the bar’s door touch the brims of their trucker caps as she passes, and Eleanor hurries inside.

Eleanor’s growing familiarity and comfort with the bar’s pizza-smoke-beer smell is strange but not unwelcome. It’s rowdier than usual inside, and it takes Eleanor a moment to locate Dani, but soon enough she spots that blue hat and blonde ponytail at the loudest table in the place. She can see Ryan, Owen, and Dani’s cousin Sarah gathered around two seatedfigures—one is Dani, and the other a man that Eleanor doesn’t recognize. They’re locked in an intense arm wrestling match. Both of their biceps shake as they strain against each other’s grip, and the group around them is shouting so loudly that it might as well be a championship hockey game.

“Give’r, Dani!” Sarah is yelling, taking a long pull from her beer bottle.

“She’s not gonna beat Matthew. It’s a matter of muscle mass,” Ryan says to Owen, a point which Eleanor must admit is fair—the man Dani is competing with is bigger than she is, even with her sturdy frame. He’s closer to Owen’s size.

Owen slings an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “You’re underestimating our girl!”

Dani, for her part, seems to be completely ignoring the conversation. Her face is set in grim determination, every vein in her neck popping as she fights to keep her arm off the table. She exudes quiet confidence. She seems to be relying on stamina rather than brute strength—while Matthew’s arm is vibrating with the force of his effort, Dani’s is rooted to the wood. Unmoving.

Eleanor wouldn’t believe it was possible for Dani to win against the man across from her, but Dani certainly seems to be gaining the upper hand. Matthew’s arm is shaking heavily now, bending further back by the second. His face is red and sweaty, and a few seconds later his arm slams onto the table so hard that Eleanor is afraid the beers scattered across it are going to end up on the carpet.

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