Elizabeth Wilson immediately waved her hand. "No way, I don't want any. You're the one going on a date, not me. If-oh, never mind. Just hurry up and pick something."

Emily Blair pressed her lips together, then gestured to the store assistants, signaling them to hold up the clothes one by one for her to see.

One after another, the assistants presented each outfit in front of Emily. She barely hesitated—if she liked something, she kept it; if she didn't, she waved it away without a second thought.

She knew she shouldn't pick too few either. The staff had put in so much effort bringing everything over, and the least she could do was help them earn a decent commission.

Within minutes, the rack was practically overflowing with clothes she'd chosen.

Elizabeth watched in amazement, nudging Emily in the arm with her elbow. "Hey, what does this guy you're meeting look like? Is he cute? Got a picture?"

Emily reached across the coffee table and grabbed the dossier. “See for yourself."

Elizabeth flipped it open and immediately spotted the photo. "Not bad! He's actually pretty handsome."

She skimmed through the rest. “Great education, good job, solid family background."

Elizabeth nodded in approval. “Honestly, you two would make a great pair.”

"Can we not?” Emily sighed and signaled for the assistants to take away the rest of the clothes.

"How's it going in here?" Emma George emerged from the kitchen, carrying a fruit platter. She nibbled on a slice and glanced at the clothes, then, ever the gracious host, offered the fruit to the boutique assistants. "You've worked hard-want some fruit?"

The assistants smiled politely and declined. "Thank you, but we're fine. Please, help yourself."

Emma shrugged and set the platter down on the coffee table, squeezing onto the couch beside Elizabeth. “When did you get here, Elizabeth? Want to pick out a couple of things for yourself?"

Elizabeth waved her off. "No, no, I'm just here for moral support. Today's all about Emily."

Emily just lifted her chin, signaling the staff to continue.

Emma noticed Elizabeth poring over the profile and couldn't resist fishing for a compliment. “So? Didn't I pick a good one for Emily?"

Elizabeth didn't hesitate. "You did great. He's got everything going for him, and he really does seem like a good match for Emily."

Emma beamed, practically glowing with pride. "See? I put a lot of thought into this, so of course he's great."

Unable to resist, Elizabeth tossed the file aside, shot Emily a look, and tugged discreetly at Emma's sleeve, lowering her voice. "Ma'am, why are you setting Emily up on a blind date anyway?"

"She's at the age where she should start thinking about these things," Emma replied matter-of-factly. “Actually, Elizabeth, if you want, I can find a few good candidates for you, too."

Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her seat, waving her hands frantically. "Oh, no, that's not necessary, really—"

"Don't be shy. I've always thought of you as half a daughter. If you're interested, just let me know—"

Emma's enthusiasm was alarming; it felt as if, if Elizabeth agreed, she'd wake up tomorrow morning to find a whole lineup of eligible bachelors at her bedside.

Elizabeth's scalp tingled. "Really, I'm fine, ma'am. Please, just focus on Emily, okay?"

Emma relented, but not without insisting several more times that if Elizabeth ever changed her mind, she'd be happy to help.

Elizabeth let out a silent sigh.

With that little scene over, Emma's attention swung back to Emily.

Emily's selection process was lightning fast-barely a few seconds per dress, as if she wasn't even looking. Emma's brows knitted tighter with every garment.

"Emily, aren't you going to try any of them on? You can't tell if they fit just by looking."

Emily slumped. "There's so many. If I tried on every single one, we'd be here all day."