Page 18 of Show Me How
I pinch my brows together. “Like high heels? That’s okay, I can make do.”
“I mean, we don’t really get many luxury brands here. One time, we got a vintage purse from an older woman passing through, and there was a fight in the corner over who saw it first, but that hasn’t happened since. Are the bottom of those . . . red?”
“They’re old. Knock-offs, probably,” I blurt, knowing that I’m lying.
They were purchased by my mother only last week for my wedding day, and considering I wasn’t offered the time to break them in, today has been the longest I’ve ever worn them. Luxury shoes might look beautiful, but they aren’t crafted for comfort. I’d take my sneakers over this pair any day, but it seems I still can’t shake the habit of what I should and shouldn’t be wearing in public.
“If you’re okay with something a little simpler, we did just get a great pair of heels in the other week. They’re a bit shorter than the ones you have on, but I’d bet they’re more comfortable,” Lacey says, keeping the judgment I know she has to be thinking out of her words. “They’re just over here, if you want to come with me.”
“Sure, yeah. And if you have anything a bit warmer, I wouldn’t complain. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk all that well in heels once the snow falls.”
We head a few rows over, and she begins digging through the white bins for the shoes, laughing. “Of course. Are you planning on staying for a while, then?”
“I’m not sure. I just figure I could be prepared in case. My selection of clothes right now is very slim.”
“I sense that there’s a story there somewhere.”
I huff in agreement. “The horror kind.”
“Well, if you do choose to stick around for a bit, I’d love to grab a coffee or something. Have you been to Maggie’s?”
“No, but I was told how good the coffee is there.”
With a whoop, Lacey pulls the heels free of the pile of sandals and boots they were under. There’s no rhyme or reason to where things are put, and the disorganization feels like nails on a chalkboard to me. But it’s not my place and not my mess . . .
“Here they are! I’m just guessing that these are your size, so I hope I’m right. Try them on!”
I take the shoes when she shoves them toward me and take a step back. The heels are a simple nude colour, and despite the worn soles, they look in fairly good condition. I notice the size stamped onto the heel.
“You were right.”
She smirks. “I have a pretty good sense of feet size. You were absolutely a six.”
An odd skill.
I drop to a crouch and trade my wedding heels for the second-hand pair. The difference between them is instant, and I bite my tongue before I start cussing out the designer ones for being so uncomfortable when they could have been like these.
“They’re really nice,” I admit.
“Yes! Okay, now, let’s find you some clothes. You’re going to freeze wearing that once the snow falls. Though you do still have a few weeks. We don’t usually get any until later on in October,” she says while leading us a couple of aisles over.
“How cold does it get here?”
“Oh, that depends on the time of year and how cruel Mother Nature wants to be. Last year, we got to about negative forty with the wind chill, but it was only for a couple of days.”
I trip over my feet and bump into her back. “What?”
“Where are you from? Is that out of the ordinary?” she asks, glancing at me over her shoulder.
“I’m not used to more than negative ten at the coldest.”
“BC? You don’t sound like you’re from out East.”
I snort a laugh. “Whistler, yeah.”
“I’ve never been.”
“It’s beautiful.”
