“I’d be much too self-conscious to leave the house like that.” The cold smile widened. “But somehow, you don’t seem to mind. Maybe you like the way that orange cashmere top looks like you pulled it from the Lorax’s Goodwill pile. Maybe you don’t realize those amusing glasses draw everyone’s attention to your under-eye circles. Or maybe it has to do with—well.” Her stare crawled over Sadie’s middle. “You’re just a moresubstantialperson than I am, aren’t you?”
Oh, that absolutebitch.
Anne almost snapped back that high school insults didn’t pair well with menopause, then bit her tongue, thinking better of it. Let Sadie counterattack first. She could more than handle herself against someone as silly and insignificant as Brenda Hughes-Foster, and, after all, Sadie had dibs on the prey.
But, to Anne’s surprise, as the seconds ticked by, Sadie didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at Brenda, those beautiful eyes huge behind her glasses. Pink spots bloomed on her cheeks. She looked—surprised? Was that it?
No. Sadie looked humiliated.
The knot of ice in Anne’s chest burst, replaced by red fury that rayed through every cell. Sadie—who’d never once voiced any insecurities about her body—Sadie washurt. Badly.
Nobody hurt Sadie. Not while Anne Harris Lowell was around.
“Hello, Brenda,” she said softly. “My turn now.”
Finally, Brenda’s eyes widened in recognition. “Anne? My goodness. It’s you, isn’t it? Wow. It’s been years. What are you up to these days?” She laughed, a false, empty sound. “So sorry I didn’t see you there.”
“Oh, sweetie.” With very little effort, Anne could make an endearment sound exactly like an insult. “Funny. You couldn’t see me, but I can see right through you. Look at how incredibly transparent you are.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Brenda protested, but she was visibly flushed. “And I really don’t see how my honest observations are any of your concern. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Understand this. When you chose to speak to my friend the way you just did, you chose to talk to me.”
Brenda, a coward, flinched.
“Whoever this is isn’t worth your energy, Anne,” Sadie said quietly. “Or mine. Let’s just order your flowers and leave, all right?”
Not tearing her gaze away from Brenda’s hard eyes, Anne moved to stand at Sadie’s side and, without knowing she was going to do it, put one arm around Sadie’s shoulders.
Sadie went rigid under Anne’s touch, clearly surprised by it, but she didn’t move away.
Barely registering Sadie’s reaction, Anne stood tall, mouth stiff with her resolve. This wasn’t Sadie’s fight anymore. Now Brenda belonged to Anne.
“Since you need me to spell this out for you,” she began, “let me do it clearly. You might be under the illusion that you’ve fooled everyone with your knockoff dress, that mismatched cut-price bag, and your fried-to-shit hair, but this scam you’re calling fashion might as well be a garbage can, given how trashy it is.”
Now Brenda was turning red. “How dare y—”
“I know you, Brenda.” Anne cut through the protest like steel into butter. “You’re not a person. Not in any way that actually counts. No, I knowexactlywhat you are. Your life’s a string of bitter disappointments you try to pass off as pearls. Your son hates you. You think your daughter isn’t pretty. Everyone knows your husband takes low-paying projects out of the country to get away from you. And you’ve managed to convince yourself that just one more facelift, justonemore, will make the arms on that ticking clock move backward. Because you’ve finally realized, haven’t you, that this is it. This is all you’ll ever have. This is all you are.”
Next to Anne, Sadie made a low, startled sound.
Brenda took a sudden step backward, as though she’d been pushed.
“You’re not a person at all,” Anne repeated. “You’re a slaughterhouse. You shredded all your old hopes and left them to rot inside you.”
Brenda gasped.
“I haven’t thought about you in four years, you know that? Not once. You’re just that forgettable, Brenda. Just that easy to walk away from. But the real tragedy here is that you can’t walk away from yourself.”
“I—I,” Brenda stammered, “I haveneverbeen spoken to like— I…” She cast a helpless look at the cashier, who was staring wide-eyed at Anne and seemed in no mood to assist. “This is— I can’t—”
“Oh,” Sadie said, “you can.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the shop’s door. “Don’t underestimate yourself. Just put one foot in front of the other, and make it quick. That should be easy, since you’re a lesssubstantialperson.”
Brenda spluttered another feeble protest, then snapped her mouth shut. Without another word, she spun around and nearly sprinted toward the exit.
“Wow.” Obvious admiration brightened the florist’s face. “That was brutal.”
“Thank you,” Anne said primly. “Natural talent.” Belatedly, she realized she was still holding onto Sadie and dropped her arm, stepping back quickly. Enough to see that her best friend still looked a little shaken. “Sadie, are you okay?”