“Randy!” Amanda yelled across the store.

“Hey, Randy!” Sarah echoed.

I waved my arms like a windmill on steroids. I didn’t care whether the people in line at my register thought I was crazy or not. Attention from these two girls was worth it. It was special. Our paths didn’t cross as often at school as I wished they would. But at least I could count on seeing them at least several times every Saturday.

That was my day to work at The Fancy Pig Dress-Up Shoppe.

The Fancy Pig was a one-of-a-kind, mid-priced boutique of sorts. Its slogan—“If we can make pigs look good enough to invite to a dinner party, imagine what we can do for a beauty like you”—may have broken every marketing rule, but it kept crowds of ladies coming in. Even from several towns away.

It was a good, clean, fun slogan, and the townspeople never failed to grin at it. Our quality and prices were good for smiles, not laughs, and that’s what really counted.

So why would a manly fellow like me choose to work in a place like that? You aren’t much of a guy if you have to ask. Girls. As the only male working at the Fancy Pig, I got a lot of attention.

Karen Philips stood in the bathroom staring at her image in the mirror, trying to figure out how she got here. When she woke up this morning she was on top of the world. Her life was going the way she had planned it. But in the blink of her eye, everything changed.

The lead divorce attorney of Brown, Barret, Cohen, and Associates, with offices in Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago, she was the most successful divorce attorney under the age of fifty. Her two younger sisters looked up to her and wanted to be just like her. Her parents were very proud of how she had turned her life around after a rough couple of years dancing with alcohol. Her girlfriends envied her relationship with Greg, the love of her life. And her boss was seriously considering her for partner. But all of that was about to change in the blink of an eye.

She came home late from a meeting with a potential new client, and she couldn’t get the words out of her head: “my husband Greg.” Wow, we have something in common she thought, until her client continued her story. And that’s when she realized, her client’s Greg, was her Greg. How could the man she’d been dating for twelve years be married to someone else? They had met a year after she started at BBC at an associates holiday party. They hit it off immediately. He called her two days later and invited her for coffee. They’d been together ever since.