Chapter 23: Sixty-One Viewers

Brooke's husband called me on Friday night.

"She wants to see you," he said. "She says she won't ask for anything. I told her I'd only pass it on."

"When?"

"Tomorrow at closing. At the shop."

I did not want to go.

I went, because my mother said that a person who finally says no gets to choose when to say yes.

The pink awning was half rolled up when I got there.

Inside, the racks stood bare in places and the candle table was gone.

Eleven women in cardigans stood among the shelves, and I knew most of them.

They were Gail's church friends, and they had come to see what she would do.

Colin's father sat on a stool by the register with his hat on his knee.

Brooke's husband stood by the fitting rooms with both girls.

Brooke stood in the middle of the floor in a plain gray dress and no makeup, holding a phone on a little tripod.

She looked smaller without the sunglasses on her head.

"Thank you for coming," she said.

"Your husband said you had something to say."

"I do. I want to say it live." Her chin shook. "I have nine hundred followers, and they all saw what I posted about you. I want them to see this."

"Then say it."

"I need somebody here who won't let me make it pretty."

"I won't," I said.

She pressed the red button and stepped back into the frame.

For a second her old habit came back, and she smoothed her hair and checked the number in the corner of the screen.

It said sixty-one.

She looked at it, and then she put the phone down on the register.

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