If you’re not padded like the Michelin Man, you’re not going to be warm enough.” Avery flung a coat at her from an overstuffed rack that looked like it belonged in Mrs. Claus’s closet. “I’m going to look ginormous.” Sloan held up the thickly padded coat that resembled a down comforter and sighed. “At least it’s black.” “Oh, give in, Sloan,” Grier shouted from a nearby rack of ski sweaters. “It’s cold and everyone looks the exact same. It beats having your extremities turn black and fall off due to frostbite.” Sloan shivered at the unpleasant image, even as she knew Grier had a point. “Fine, fine, fine.” She dragged her arms through the sleeves as the shop’s proprietor, Sandy Dunbar, walked over. “Can I help you gals with anything?” “Hey, Sandy.” Avery’s voice held the comfort of a lifetime of knowing each other as she greeted the shop owner. “We’re just outfitting Sloan properly for her stay here in Indigo.” Sandy picked up a colorful scarf off a nearby accessories table, the gleam of a sale in her eyes.
