He must feel likewise about me. He shuffles past me in silence, then walks out the back door of the pub to wait for his son outside.
I sit there for moment, simmering in useless fury. Tommy comes over to collect the cash I laid on the bar.
“Another beer, Gabe?”
“No, thanks. I’m leaving soon.” He nods and starts to walk away to get my change. “On second thought, Tommy. I’ll take a shot of Jameson. Make it a double.”
3
~ Evelyn ~
“These designs are amazing.” Avery Ross glances up from the array of sketches and swatches of silk and lace spread out before us on the cocktail table of the executive suite’s sumptuous conversation area. “Evelyn, I don’t know how I’m going to narrow down my choices to just a few.”
“I’m so pleased you like them.”
We are seated alone in the office on a pale gray leather Chesterfield sofa. Behind us on the soaring wall of polished silver granite hangs a large Jackson Pollock original painted in monochromatic black enamel on a cream canvas. I find it fascinating how the expansive office space overlooking a prime slice of Manhattan can look slightly dark and intimidating—much like the billionaire who commands it—yet Dominic Baine’sbusiness domain somehow feels far from cold or austere.
As for his beautiful fiancée, Avery is like a splash of golden sunshine in the midst of so much gray. Her warm smile beams as she looks at me and slowly shakes her head, sending her long blonde hair sifting around her shoulders.
“No wonder L’Opale is nipping at the heels of the top bespoke lingerie shops. Everything you’ve shown me today is incredible.”
I can’t deny the surge of pride I feel at her praise. The boutique on Madison Avenue is small, but in the five years since we opened, our clientele list has grown from a handful of East Coast socialites and celebrities into an exclusive, loyal following across the country and all around the world. My staff and I have worked hard to establish our reputation for quality, and I’ve made it my mission to personally ensure the innovation and originality of the pieces we make for our clients.
While some of our inventory is limited-run, small-volume production based off designs Katrina and I create together, the boutique primarily caters to private clients who commission us for individual pieces or custom ensembles like the one I’m presenting to Avery today.
In all fairness, it should have been Kat in my place for a client as high-profile as Avery Ross. She’s got more experience, having come to work at L’Opale around the time we first opened, after being perhaps not-so-coincidentally dropped from another luxe custom lingerie shop’s design staff the week after she turned forty.
But I’ve developed a rapport with Avery in the pastyear that she’s been a L’Opale customer. She requested me specifically for this project, and I couldn’t be more excited—nor more determined—to create something spectacular for her that she, and her husband-to-be, will enjoy.
She picks up one of my sketches for a frothy, pearl-accented, lace demi-bra and panties. “This one is particularly lovely.” A faint, secret smile curves her lips as she studies the design concept. “And Nick does love to see me in pearls.”
“That set will look gorgeous on you,” I tell her, delighted by her obvious enthusiasm for the ideas I’ve shown her. “To be honest, I think you could walk around in cotton briefs and a sports bra and Nick would be just as dazzled as he would be seeing you in any of these designs. That man adores you. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”
“Mind? Are you kidding?” She turns a shy look at me, one of the first times I’ve ever seen her appear uncertain. She twists the enormous diamond engagement ring on her finger. “Thank you for saying that. These past three months have been a whirlwind since Nick proposed. Now, in addition to an exhibit I’m preparing for next week, we’re also renovating the Park Place penthouse and planning our engagement party. Sometimes all the decisions become so overwhelming, I’m not sure I know anything for sure.”
I nod, because I understand something about pressure and how heavy it can feel on someone’s shoulders. I know the kind of sabotaging self-defeat that kind of pressure can bring. “Well, take this from an outside observer. One thing you don’t ever have to doubt is the fact that your man is head over heels in lovewith you.”
If I sound a little wistful in front of her, I can’t help it. Avery Ross and Dominic Baine have the kind of unabashed devotion to each other that I’ve long been convinced couldn’t actually exist in real life. Certainly, I’ve never known their kind of bond. After my string of disastrous—even dangerous—choices in men, I have no intention of putting my heart on the line ever again.
To cover my momentary lapse into memories I’d rather forget, I reach for another of the designs Avery had enthused over. “This silk set can also be embellished with pearls, if you’d like me to make a few alterations and show it to you again.”
“No, it’s perfect just as you have it, Evelyn. I love it, in fact.” She gestures vaguely at the sketches on the table. “I’ll take them.”
“This one and the pearl demi-bra ensemble?”
“All of them,” Avery says. “I can’t choose between any of your designs, so I’d like to buy them all.”
It takes calling on my stage face to keep from gaping. I’ve presented more than a dozen original concepts, each custom creation carrying a price tag well into the thousands. I thought she’d select one or two. Hoped she might take as many as three, possibly four, if I wanted to be optimistic. But to accept them all? It’s the largest order we’ve had since we opened our doors.
“Um . . . thank you.” I swallow past the elated cry that’s about to burst out of me. “Avery, really. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this opportunity to design for you. I promise, I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” She places her hand briefly over the top of mine. “You were kind to me the first day we met at the boutique, and I’ve never forgotten that,Evelyn. You also happen to have an amazing vision for sexy, sophisticated pieces.”
“There’s nothing else I want to do,” I admit to her. “Designing is my escape. It saved my life, if you want to know the truth.”
She nods, even though I’m certain she can’t know how close to the bone that statement really cuts. Although we’re friendly and Avery knows I was a model in a former life, we haven’t discussed the humiliating details of my failure in that career. Or my long climb back out of the abyss.
Still, there is a note of understanding in her gentle gaze. “Painting is all I’ve ever wanted to do. There was a time when it was the only thing standing between me and everything awful in my life. I clung to my dreams because they were all I had left. And I never gave up—not on life or my art. Neither should you.”
