A HUGE BOUTIQUE STOOD in front of Hilarie and Eric. It was Chloe’s, as indicated by the sign in big, red cursive letters. Behind the display window, mannequins wore dresses embellished with diamonds and pearls—real ones, no doubt.
“Couldn’t we just go to Wal-Mart?” she asked. “They have some decent dresses.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, no. I’m allergic to China-made products.” He dragged her into the boutique. “Come on.”
When Hilarie stepped inside the store, a gasp left her lips. All around her were mannequins dressed in gowns of the finest silk, taffeta, satin, and organza. She had to resist the urge to touch them. They looked so soft, so pretty.
“Can I help you?” a saleswoman in a blue blouse and black pencil skirt asked.
“Yeah, what’s the cheapest dress in here?” Hilarie asked.
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