Rachel stood in her closet wrapped in a towel, hair still wet, looking through the meager selection of her clothes that made it back to Chicago from London. “What do you have that’s sexy?” Petra asked, joining her in the narrow space. She curled her lip as she flipped through hangers. “Nothing.” She gave an impatient snick of the tongue and shook her head. “We should have gone shopping days ago,” she muttered. “The last thing I need is to buy more clothes. Just wait until you see how much I have when my boxes finally get here.” Some moron with the shipping company she’d used had mislabeled her boxes. They were currently on their way to Illinois from Washington—the state, not D.C.—where they’d been sent by mistake. “I may have to rent a second bedroom from you.” “Darling, the whole floor is yours.” She was staying in the nearly empty third floor of Petra and her boyfriend Jude’s Lincoln Park graystone until she found a new job and a place of her own. Petra had recently inherited it from an uncle who’d permanently retired to Florida, and hadn’t quite decided what to do with the extra space.
