“Receipts are good,” Sam said.

“People can’t argue with postal tracking numbers.”

I picked up the second blazer and brushed a speck of lint off the shoulders of the set of four that had cost me two hundred and twenty dollars.

The sting of humiliation from the Denver ballroom lobby still burned behind my eyes, but my hands stayed steady as I worked the steam across the fabric.

I folded the collars neatly, checking every button and seam under the cabin lamp.