Chapter Twenty-Eight

Shopping with Sophie was an experience unto itself.

She was a force to be reckoned with. Sophie made shopping into an Olympic qualifying sport. We visited three stores, tried on over thirty dresses, twenty different kinds of slacks, thirty-seven skirts, and more types of shirts than I could keep track of.

“With your hair and skin, you should wear pastels,” she advised, holding up a pink gown that shimmered in the light. “Some darker colors will work, but I think we need to stick with the lighter things. They will also give you an air of innocence.”

“Are you saying I'm not innocent?” I asked her, putting back a deep burgundy sweater.

She grinned at me. “Not in a million years. You're dating Freddie.”

“He's not that much of a bad boy,” I replied. I held up a blue shirt.

“Too low cut,” she said, shaking her head at the shirt. “And I know Freddie isn't all bad. He's just got the reputation.”

“So why do I have to dress innocent?” I asked. I held up a long sleeve pale green shirt that Sophi