“It depends what your budget is. The Nordstrom here also has nice things.”
Frederick looked directly at Sam and asked, “Between Nordstrom and Gap, which would you say has nicer casual men’s clothing?”
“Nordstrom for sure.”
“Then Nordstrom it is.” That decided, Frederick pulled out an honest-to-god pocket watch on a chain from his pocket. Checking the time he said, “I believe we have two hours before the mall closes and our errand ends. Shall we begin?”
“Wait, hold on.” Now Sam was pulling his phone from his pocket. “Shit, it’s my firm.”
He put his phone up to his ear. “Sam Collins.” His voice was so different—stiffer, more formal—than it was when he spoke to me. It must be one of the partners calling him.
Frederick frowned at me. “His employer calls him in the evening?”
“Sam’s a lawyer,” I explained. “He’s in his first year and he works absolutely inhuman hours. His husband Scott told me he’s at the office close to seventy hours a week right now.”
Frederick looked horrified. “That’s horrible.”
“I know.”
Sam had pulled a notebook from his bag and was jotting things down as he listened to whatever the person on the other end of the line was telling him. “I don’t understand why Kellogg is panicking over the merger. It’s happening next week, I understand that, but . . .” Another pause. “Yes, of course. I’ll draft that memo as soon as I get into the office.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I’m out in Schaumburg right now but I can be there in forty-five minutes.”
Sam hung up, then looked at me, eyes apologetic.
My stomach plunged somewhere in the general vicinity of my shoes. “Do you have to go now?” I asked, my panic rising.
“Yeah. I’m really sorry. This merger we’re handling is . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. For the first time I noticed the dark circles ringing his eyes. “There are no problems whatsoever with this merger. It should go off without a hitch next week, but our client is panicking and I need to go calm them down.”
And then, he raised an eyebrow and leaned in a little closer before adding, in a low voice, “I am especially sorry I’ll miss Frederick trying on clothes.”
That was almost enough to distract me from the terror I was feeling over the fact that I would soon be alone with Frederick in various states of dress and undress for an entire evening. I swatted my best friend. “You are a married man, Sam.”
“Married, not dead.” He paused, then added, “In all seriousness, he seems like an okay guy. A bit strange, but . . .” He shrugged. “I’m no longer convinced you’re making the worst mistake of your life in living with him.”
I snorted. “Good. Now go be a lawyer. We’ll be fine.” I looked over at Frederick, who looked anything but fine with this change in plans. His eyes were saucer-wide, making him look nearly as terrified at the idea of doing this alone with me as I felt.
“Text me if anything comes up or if you have any questions,” Sam said, shouldering his messenger bag. “I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow to see how it went.”
And then, he was gone. Leaving me alone with Frederick, to go try on casual men’s clothing.
This was going to be great.
Absolutely great.
Frederick cleared his throat beside me. His eyes were on his shoes, the left fingers of his hand drumming rapidly on his upper thigh.
“I am . . . glad you don’t work as hard as he does, Cassie.” His voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear him over the din of the crowded shopping mall. “I would worry a lot, I think, if you did.”
His eyes met mine, soft and so warm, before flitting away again a moment later.
He cleared his throat. “Shall we go to Nordstrom, then?”
Nordstrom. Right.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling breathless and a little dizzy at the abrupt change in subject. How on earth was I going to survive this? “Nordstrom it is.”
* * *
The last time I’d been in a Nordstrom was nearly twenty years ago, when I’d come to this same mall with my mom to try on dresses for my bat mitzvah. Given how long ago that was, it was astonishing how strong the feeling of déjà vu was the moment I walked into the store. The perfume that seemed to permeate the air, the fluorescent lighting—all of it brought me right back to being thirteen years old, miserably uncomfortable in my own skin, and wishing I were just about anywhere other than where I was.
From the way Frederick’s hands kept clenching and unclenching at his sides, I suspected that he was feeling much as I had all those years ago.
“I had not expected this establishment to be so . . .” He trailed off, his dark eyes wide and showing how overwhelmed he was as he tried to take everything in.
“You hadn’t expected it to be so what?” I asked, as I guided him past the ostentatious shoe department that had its own wine bar.
He stopped abruptly when we reached the display of five-thousand-dollar winter coats that looked like they’d been cobbled together from rhinestones and trash bags.
He frowned at them. I could only guess at what he was thinking right now.
“I hadn’t expected this establishment to be so . . . much.”
He didn’t elaborate. But he didn’t have to. I understood what he meant perfectly.
My hand was still on his elbow as I steered him towards the men’s department, applying only the gentlest pressure to encourage him to move to the left. It was noisy in there, the store filled with shoppers and salespeople and piped-in generic background music—but even still, I heard the way his breath hitched at my touch as easily as if there’d been no one else there at all.
I tried to follow the signage for the men’s department, but there were so many other departments in that massive store it was a challenge. There were also way too many other people. It was nearly as crowded in there as it was in the main area of the mall. It felt like we were bumping into yet another well-dressed shopper every ten feet.
We must have wandered around Nordstrom for a solid ten minutes before finally finding the men’s department. It was on the sixth floor, past the home goods section, and at the very opposite end of the store from the mall entrance. It was so much smaller than the cumulative parts of the store dedicated to women’s clothing that it felt a bit like a forgotten stepchild.
What they did sell to men, though, looked just as expensive as everything else Nordstrom sold. Racks of suit jackets in conservative colors, adorned with thousand-dollar price tags, greeted us. Just behind them was a silk tie display that took up an entire wall.