As Stacy perused bookshelves of the business, she saw a display of how-to books. How to cook, how to date—she laughed at that one. Yep, she’d failed at both of those and almost burned down her former boyfriend’s apartment. How to quilt … nope, that was her niece’s thing. How to do carpentry. Not a chance.
The stairs beside her led to a loft. As she neared the top, she noticed a pair of black-laced, thick-heeled shoes.
“Can I help you?” A tall, serious looking, black and gray-haired woman with glasses on the end of her nose spoke.
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