CLAIRE
Friday morning came with bright sunlight and a text from the SoHo boutique owner.
Marina: Can you come by today? Want to show you where we're thinking of displaying your pieces.
I typed back quickly.
Me: What time works for you?
Marina: 11am?
Me: Perfect. See you then.
I got dressed carefully, choosing one of my own designs, the burgundy dress I'd worn to the opera with Julian. It felt like wearing armor, a reminder of who I'd become instead of who I used to be.
Nina called while I was finishing my coffee. "Morning," she said cheerfully. "Just confirming the third production run starts Monday."
"That's great," I replied. "How many units?"
"Five hundred pieces," Nina said. "Between the boutique order and your website sales, we're going to need them."
"Five hundred," I repe
