Annabel Currin held up a cocktail dress in the mirror at one of her favorite boutiques. The backless light blue goddess gown with a high side slit had a very classic feel. Yet, it also had a bit of the Bohemian vibe that was part of her signature style. She needed to get her mind off the terrible fight she’d had with her fiancé, Mason Harrison, and its ugly aftermath, which still had her reeling.
But she didn’t want to think about any of that today.
“What do you think?” Annabel stared at her friend Frankie Walsh’s reflection in the mirror.
A broad smile spread across the woman’s face and her green eyes twinkled. “I love that color against your complexion, Annabel. You’re going to look amazing in that dress at the American Cancer Society gala. Wait until Mason sees you in this.”
“You think so?” Annabel scrunched her nose as she studied her honey-colored skin. The product of a father with deep Irish roots and a Kenyan mother with gorgeous, deep brown skin. Her question was in reference to the earlier part of her friend’s statement. She couldn’t care less what Mason would think about the dress.
“Absolutely. You look incredible in everything. You could wear an oversize T-shirt to this event and half the internet would be trying to copy you.”
“Thanks.” Annabel gave the woman a warm smile, glad she and Frankie had become friends.
She’d given Francesca Walsh, a hand on the Currin Ranch at the time, an impromptu makeover for a big event she was attending that night with Annabel’s older brother, Xander. A lot had changed in the short time since then. Frankie was now Xander’s fiancée and the newly discovered long-lost heir to the Langley fortune.
The casual acquaintance they’d formed during that makeover had grown into a bona fide friendship after Xander and Frankie’s engagement. She was a bubbly, incredibly sweet person. Annabel’s brother was lucky to have her.
Frankie bit her lower lip and frowned.
“What is it?” Annabel asked.
“Our friendship is still new, so tell me if I’m crossing any boundaries here.” Frankie sucked in a deep breath. “But is something going on with you today?”
“Why do you ask?” Annabel turned back to the mirror for one last look at the dress. Then she hung it on a rack with a few others they’d selected as contenders.
“You don’t seem like your usual confident self. Yesterday, you were giddy. You said you had this big happy secret you couldn’t wait to tell us all about. And today you’re like... I don’t know.” Frankie tugged her hair, twisted into a single long braid, over one shoulder. “A deflated balloon. Like you’re just going through the motions. I get the distinct impression it’s related to that disagreement you had with Mason. The one you don’t want to talk about. Is everything okay between you two?”
Annabel’s eyes stung with tears. She didn’t respond. She focused on her work instead—the real reason they were there. To capture footage for her popular vlog channel.
She was a fashion vlogger with a huge following, and the boutique owner, who was sponsoring this episode, was comping her a dress for a charity gala she’d be attending.
Annabel often gifted makeovers to followers locally or when she attended fashion and makeup industry events. But she’d decided to go beyond playing fairy godmother to a few select women. She’d decided to open Fairy Godmother, a local consignment shop and a salon that offered makeover services, which would allow her to help a lot more people.
She ignored her friend’s question as she busied herself with setting up the camera lighting. “Now that I have a handful of options, I’ll record the vlog post ‘discovering’ each of the dresses. I’ll discuss why they work for my body type and complexion. I’ll also show a few of the dresses that didn’t work for me, including an honest assessment of why they didn’t. Then I’ll try on all of the final contenders before selecting ‘the one.’”
“Did I overstep?” Frankie had asked to come along and help. She stooped to take the next lighting fixture out of its storage case to set it up.
“No, of course not. You’re just a little too good at this friendship thing, I guess.” Annabel gave a nervous laugh. She studied Frankie for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Hey, if I told you something, could you keep it just between us for now? Even from my brother?”
Frankie seemed to roll the request over in her head. “It’s nothing dangerous or life-threatening, right? Nothing he needs to know?”
“No, nothing like that.”
A slow smile lit Frankie’s green eyes. She squeezed Annabel’s arm. “Then, of course.”
“Actually, maybe it would be better if I showed you after we’re done here.” Annabel sighed, hoping that this reveal would go better than the last.
* * *
Butterflies flitted in Annabel’s stomach as she opened the rusty lock and led Frankie through the doors of a small older building that had once been a celebrated hair salon.
Her favorite pair of old, worn black-and-brown cowboy boots clopped against the tile floor as they walked inside. The stale air and lingering pungent scent of leftover chemicals assaulted their senses. Dust swirled in the sunlight peeking through the dirty front windows.
“We’re standing in the heart of what will become Fairy Godmother.” Annabel ran her fingers through her hair, fashioned in microbraids. The hair nearest her scalp was braided, while the majority of its length fell in loose waves down her back. “I purchased the connected building next door, too. That’s where the vintage clothing store will be. But clients can get complete makeovers here. I’m talking hair, skin, makeup and nails. All available as a paid service, which will allow me to do more Fairy Godmother makeovers for deserving women trying to reenter the workplace.”
“What a fantastic idea, Annabel.” Frankie beamed. “And this place is incredible. I adore lovely old buildings like this. When was it built?”
“It was completed in 1934. Thus the art deco style.” Annabel indicated the geometric wallpaper design and the beautiful terrazzo flooring with its intricate geometric pattern.
“This place will be absolutely stunning once you’ve renovated it. Then maybe accent it with some vintage pieces that would go well with the era of the architecture,” Frankie went on excitedly.
Her friend had barely been able to tame her enthusiasm from the moment they walked through the door. Frankie’s reaction was the exact opposite of Mason’s when she’d shown the old building to him and revealed her plans for it.
“That’s what I was thinking, too.” Annabel pointed to the space up front. “I’d love to get some comfy banquette seating built beneath the window and then along that wall.”
After they explored the shop, Annabel showed her friend the building next door and shared her plans for it before the late-summer sun went down.
Frankie hugged her. “I’m so happy for you, Annabel. This was your dream and you’re making it happen. What did Mason say?”
The joy and excitement Annabel had felt as she shared her plans with Frankie quickly faded. Mason’s scowl and utter disappointment filled her brain. A ball tightened in her stomach.
Mason Harrison worked for her father. He was an executive at Currin Oil, where he’d been quickly ascending the corporate ladder. They’d been engaged for nearly a year and their wedding date was only a couple months away. But he’d been angry and dismissive when she told him of her plans.
“I brought him here after we had lunch together the other day. He accused me of behaving like an impetuous little girl by buying this place without consulting him or my father.”
“I’m sure he was just surprised.” Frankie tried to sound reassuring. “He’ll come around.”
“No. He won’t,” Annabel admitted, her throat tightening. “He wants me to settle down and be a ‘proper’ society wife. And he expects me to give up my ‘little blog’ once we’re married.”
“Little blog? You have hundreds of thousands of followers and dozens of top tier sponsors.” Frankie folded her arms, indignant on her behalf. “You love what you do, and you’re making a really good living at it. Why would Mason expect you to give it up?”
“He doesn’t consider what I do a career, and he doesn’t want his wife working in some ‘run-down shack.’ Evidently, being an entrepreneur isn’t suitable for a ‘proper society wife.’” She used air quotes again. “Mason gave me an ultimatum. I wouldn’t budge.” Annabel shrugged. “So he broke off our engagement.”
“I’m sorry, Annabel. I didn’t realize how serious the argument was.” Frankie squeezed her arm. “Maybe Mason just needs to get used to the idea. And you’re still wearing his ring, so I bet you two will resolve this before the gala this weekend.”
“No.” Annabel’s unyielding tone seemed to surprise her friend. “Mason is looking for a trophy wife who’ll be content hosting cocktail parties and attending charity functions just to make him look good. I feel incredibly stupid that I didn’t recognize that before now.” She twisted the ring on her finger, suddenly self-conscious about it.
Why was she still wearing Mason’s engagement ring when it was clearly over between them?
Maybe some small part of her held out hope that they’d reconcile. But in talking to her friend, she realized something she hadn’t wanted to admit before. Mason Harrison wasn’t the man for her. She’d take the ring off once she’d told her father that the engagement was over. But she just hadn’t been ready to do that.
“My father says he won’t be able to attend the gala. Currin Oil is a platinum sponsor, so I need to be there to represent our family and the company.” Annabel sighed. “Besides, this event is important to me. We lost my mom to cancer, so I’ll do whatever I can to support this cause.”
“I wish Xander and I didn’t have plans that night. I hate to think of you there all alone.” Frankie frowned.
“I’ll be fine. Promise.” Annabel forced a smile for the sake of her friend.
“Usually, I’d offer a platitude like time heals all wounds, but I don’t think that’s what you want to hear right now.” Frankie wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “So let’s focus on the fact that you’ve taken the first step to fulfilling your dream. That calls for a celebration. And pie.”
Annabel grinned. “You had me at pie.”