The morning light arrived softly in the boutique, warm and forgiving.

I moved slowly, deliberately, as I stepped across the wooden floor and let my eyes travel across the room I had come to know in a new way. There was no grand entrance. No ribbon to cut. I was simply Juliana Cross again, showing up. That was new enough.

I paused just inside the doorway while the early team moved around me. Stylists arranged racks. Assistants placed delicate floral arrangements with care. The scent of white ...