The light in the boutique felt different that morning. It was softer somehow, spilling through the front windows in a way that made the fabrics on the racks look almost weightless. I was rearranging a display near the register when Lena walked in with her tablet in hand.

She didn’t even take off her coat before speaking. “We need to talk about the emails.”

I set the hanger back on the rack. “Which ones?”

“The ones from investors. More this week than we’ve had in the last three ...