Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Although I know I’ll be back in Bitterroot Valley often to see my sister, I also know that I won’t repeat this night with that glorious, stunning, and witty woman.
Because I’d lose myself to her, and there’s no room for that in my world.
Chapter One
BILLIE
This is my very favorite day of the month.
One Monday a month, I leave my bookstore in the capable hands of my two employees and drive the four hours to Big Sky, Montana, to shop. The only time this doesn’t happen is when it’s too snowy and the roads are treacherous.
But it’s summertime, which means that for the next few months, I’ll be able to come to this resort town and buy clothes on my usual schedule.
I’m a self-professed fashionista. I love clothes, especially expensive, high-end labels, but I don’t have the budget for that when it comes to buying brand-new.
That’s where Big Sky comes in.
This ski town isn’t so unlike Bitterroot Valley, except it’s where the rich come to vacation and own vacation homes. Mega celebrities, billionaires, you name it, and these wealthy women send their hand-me-downs to the local thrift store.
A little secret I discovered by mistake a couple of years ago, and I’m so glad I did. I find a place to park, then walk down the block to the darling boutique-style thrift shop and push inside.
“How are you, Martha?” I ask the owner, who’s hanging what looks like a red wool coat on a hanger.
This store is the cutest. It doesn’t look or smell like a thrift shop. It’s styled like an adorable fashion boutique, and I always feel fancy when I come in to browse through the racks and hunt for amazing finds.
“Oh, no complaints here. How’s the bookstore life treating you, Billie?”
“It’s the best. I brought that series you requested and a few bags of donations as well.”
Not only do I buy from this thrift store but I also donate back anything that I’ve grown tired of or just didn’t work for me.
Because although I’m a clothes horse, my little house can’t hold all the pieces I’d keep if I had the space.
“Oh, that’s great, thank you,” she says with a smile. “I held a few things back for you because I knew they’d sell fast, and I wanted you to get first dibs.”
Those magical words make my tummy flip, and I’ve already pulled two dresses and a pair of slacks from a rack to try on when Martha returns, pulling a rolling rack of clothes behind her.
“That’s not a few things.” I quickly twist my long hair up into a knot. It needs to be out of my way so I can try on clothes.
Martha laughs and takes my finds from me so she can start me a room, and I immediately hurry over to the rack to comb through it.
“This is a Gucci blouse,” I call out to her as my adrenaline spikes. “And it’s in my size! That never happens.”
Unfortunately, not all fashion houses offer their ready-to-wear clothes in larger sizes, but every once in a while, I find something.
In fact, this whole rack is full of designer pieces in my size.
“Who donated this stuff?” I ask as Martha joins me.
“A governor’s wife,” she says with a shrug. “I swear, she must have brought me half of her closet. These are last year’s pieces.”
“Who cares?” I laugh and step back. “I’ll try it all on.”
“I figured you’d say that. Let’s get started.”
Every piece fits me like a glove. A Dior shift dress, a Louis Vuitton blouse. Chanel, Hermes, and Valentino. Some of the items still have tags on them.
“I’m going to give you everything for three hundred,” Martha says.
“There’s easily twenty grand in clothes here, and that’s on the conservative side,” I reply, shaking my head. “I should pay you at least one thousand.”
“Used clothes, and besides, you’ll bring them back to me when you’re finished with them.”
“This might be the best day of the whole year. I feel like I should buy a lottery ticket,” I inform her as I pull on the long maxi dress I wore here and follow her to the counter where we dig in, folding everything and gently placing it all in the two totes I brought.
“Billie?” Her voice sounds tentative.
I raise an eyebrow at Martha. “Yes?”
“I’m thinking about selling the shop.”
I feel my eyes go wide, and my heart stutters.
“Oh, why? It’s such a great place.”
“My parents are in Arizona, and my dad’s health isn’t great. I feel like I should be there with them, you know? I have a serious case of daughter guilt.”
I bite my lip. “I get it. Mine moved to Florida a few years ago, and if my dad wasn’t well, I’d want to be closer to him, too. It’s a tough decision. Is the shop struggling?”