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other. I strode through, without admiring the view of desert and city, to find the long table completely covered in clothes. One end was stacked with shoe boxes and a chair was pulled out and covered in scarves and purses.
    “WHAT IS THIS?!” I screeched. I’m not usually a screecher. Really. Not even a yeller. The stress of the past few days had me a little more emotional than usual, but I’m generally a pretty calm, level headed woman. This was just too much. I didn’t even know what it meant. “Where did all of this come from?”
    “I asked Lola to drop it by. It’s for you,” Sam said from right behind me. I jumped, glad I’d left my coffee in the kitchen or I would have spilled it all over me. He could move quietly when he wanted to.
    “Why, Sam? I have clothes.”
    “Now you have new ones. Pick something to wear and I’ll explain.”
    I surveyed the table, realizing on closer inspection that the clothes had been laid out as outfits, with accessories and shoes nearby. It was a dizzying array. I knew who Lola was, had even met her a few times when I needed to pick up a suit for Sam. She was elegant, with impeccable taste. I could see her hand in the wardrobe laid out on the table.
    Suits, a few dresses, and embarrassingly, a pile of silk, satin, and lace that could only be lingerie. Even some loungewear, more elegant versions of the yoga pants and old t-shirts I usually wore after work.
    Confused and not sure what to say to Sam, I picked up the closest suit, a light-weight raspberry wool with a coordinating cream shell sweater and silky scarf. Grabbing the matching slingback heels, underwear, and a bra, I turned and marched back to his bedroom without another word, hoping silence might accomplish what my screeching had not. Of course, since I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, I didn’t really know what I was trying to do with my frosty quiet.
    Maybe just get a little space to figure out what Sam was up to. Back in his room, I shut the door behind me and flipped the lock. Normally I’d never feel the need to lock the door against Sam, but nothing had been normal since Nolan had disappeared.
    Stripping off the robe, I looked at the shell pink panties and bra in my hands and felt my cheeks turn red. Sam had purchased underwear for me. Not the plain cotton underwear and bras I got on sale at one of the big box stores. But real lingerie, the fabric was soft. The straps, wide enough to support my breasts, were both padded and embroidered so the bra was not only functional, it was beautiful as well. I didn’t want to guess at what it must have cost.
    My hands shaking a little, I threaded my arms through the straps and pulled the bra into place. Miraculously, it fit. How had he known my bra size? It was ridiculous to blush this hard when no one could see me, but the idea that he’d correctly guessed the size of my breasts and bought me underwear led my thoughts in directions I wasn’t ready to explore.
    Trying to stay focused, I pulled on the matching panties and contemplated the rest of my outfit. The suit was beautifully tailored, but I had my doubts about the skirt. In a pencil style, it was made to fit the hips, then flare out in kick-pleats just below the knees. Gorgeous. But my hips and pencil skirts were not friends. Never had been. Still, I couldn’t wear the robe all day.
    Resigned to a fight with the zipper and not being able to sit comfortably all day, I stepped into the skirt and pulled it up, putting on the sleepless cream shell on top first so I wouldn’t be half naked while I fought with the skirt. To my shock, the skirt’s zipper slid up with ease, the fabric conforming to my butt and hips perfectly, not a straining seam anywhere. Not ready to look yet, I slid my feet into the heels and my arms into the jacket. Holding the scarf in my hand, I turned to look in the floor length mirror on Sam’s closet door.
    I never would have picked a suit like this for myself. The color was too bright