Page 65 of Shattered Chords

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s fine. She was nervous last fall, but I think she has other things to worry about these days besides making friends.”

“She’s such a sweet kid,” Renn drawled and I wondered if she was confusing my daughter with someone else. Ally was anything but sweet these days. Yesterday, she tried to persuade me to let her get a tattoo again. The fight concluded with some temperamental door slamming and a full hour of brutal metal guitar solos pouring from her room.

I shook off my unease and scanned the appointments for a third time, willing my mind to concentrate on work. “Three cancellations?”

“Yes, they were all coming from Santa Barbara, and apparently, the freeway has been shut down.”

“I hate when this happens.”

“What can we do?” Renn shrugged, straightening the flower arrangement beneath the window decal. “Those poor men and women are already working day and night.” She was referring to the firefighters.

“You’re right,” I agreed.

“Did you remember today is Amun’s first day?”

“I do.” No, I didn’t. With my life revolving around Ally’s and the beginning of her sophomore year, I totally forgot that we hired a new girl last week and she was starting her training today.

“I can work with her if you’re busy,” Renn offered.

“No, I got it. What time is she supposed to be here?”

“Eleven.”

“Sounds good. I have to make a few phone calls. Let me know when she arrives.” I strode back to my office, cranked up the AC, wrestled off my blazer, and settled behind my desk.

Typically, work soothed me. I’d been doing this for so long, I couldn't separate myself from the boutique anymore. It was easy and it was fun and, in a way, it brought joy to people’s lives. Because that’s what wedding dresses did. Made an already happy day stunning and memorable. But my fight with Ally kept coming at me like a rabid dog, a constant reminder of all my failures as a mother.

Time dragged by at first, until I finally managed to convince myself that thinking about what couldn’t be changed at this very moment didn’t need to interrupt my work. Things went much smoother after that and I didn’t even realize it was almost lunch time until Renn knocked on my door to let me know Amun had just arrived.

I glanced at the digital clock on my laptop and said in a hushed voice, “She’s forty-five minutes late.”

“She lives in Thousand Oaks. She said she was on the freeway for two hours,” Renn explained with an understanding expression on her face. She obviously didn’t want me to be too hard on the new hire. Being tardy on the first day was a huge no-no, but we had no way of changing things that were unquestionably out of our control.

Suddenly, I felt as if I was losing my grasp on everything. My life. My work. My daughter. It made my head spin.

“She’s really nice and she has customer service experience,” Renn added. “Give her a chance.”

Standing from my chair, I let out a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

“Just so you know, we had another cancellation.”

Amun was sitting on a bench in the lingerie section with her hands folded politely in her lap when I emerged on the main floor. She shot to her feet and greeted me with an energetic handshake.

“I’m so sorry I was late. I’m usually always early, but there was so much traffic because of the closure,” the girl apologized profusely, sounding very sincere. She was tall and lithe with a strikingly expressive face and short black hair that reached just above her shoulders, and I remembered thinking to myself during her interview that she made me feel comfortable, which is important if you want to work with women who are about to get married.

There was a noise at the front door and someone walked in.

Renn greeted the client, their voices carrying through the main floor and toward the back racks.

Several words reached me and I felt a shiver snaking down my spine. “...evacuating everyone and they’re not saying how long we’ll be staying there.”

“Just a second,” smiling at Amun, I excused myself and weaved through the rows of dresses toward the client.

It was Mrs. Hamil. We’d done dresses for all four of her daughters. She was probably picking up the accessories for her younger one, who was getting married at the end of the year.

“Hi, sweetie!” She threw both hands in the air and pulled me into a hug. It wasn’t a real hug, not with this heat, but she was an affectionate woman and I typically just went with it. “How are you?”

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