Fiona
Archie suggested the jewelry boutique so casually that I almost missed the significance of it entirely, mentioned in passing as we walked past the storefront after lunch one afternoon, its window display catching his eye the way I imagined most things in this city rarely did anymore.
"Do you mind if we stop in for a moment?" he asked. "I've been meaning to look at something for my sister's birthday, and I could use a second opinion."
I agreed easily enough, following him inside a shop so elegant it made me acutely aware of the modest dress I'd worn that day, the careful, practiced comfort I usually felt around Archie faltering slightly beneath the hushed, reverent atmosphere of the boutique, glass cases gleaming under soft lighting, a saleswoman approaching us with the kind of pol
