“Maybe.” He’d tease me about my alternative suggestion. That perhaps the house is haunted, and it’s the ghost of his grandmother. And maybe she likes me. Because we could be fashion besties. And perhaps she’s a matchmaker and is gunning for me to succeed.
I mean, a matchmaking ghost who knows her Gucci from her Fendi and wants me to date her rock-star grandson is my kind of spirit.
I think it’s even more likely when, a few minutes later, I close the door to her dressing room with reverence and Ryder sweeps me up in his arms to carry me down the stairs. The scent of Chanel No. 5 follows us all the way down.
CHAPTER 12
Ryder
(TEN YEARS AGO) RYDER’S JOURNAL
She’s like a breeze.
A thunderstorm.
A damned tornado.
(NOW)
“Archie, where are you? It’s time for your walk,” I grumble. This house is too big, with too many hiding places for a dog with a Houdini complex.
I wander the hallway, looking into the rooms. The door to my grandmother’s dressing room is open again, just as it has been the last few days, and I’ll bet my favorite guitar that Daisy’s in there working.
“Archie!” I cry and push the door fully open.
“Dammit, Daisy, what the hell are you doing?” I’m across the room in three steps, my heart in my throat.
She whips around to see me just as I reach her. She’s standing on a bench and propped on a crutch, trying to reach a high shelf again.
“I gave you permission to catalog my grandmother’s clothes, but only if you promised to ask me for help when you needed to reach the shelves.”
“I didn’t promise. I just nodded, which, really, could have a variety of meanings. And you were busy in the music room. I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were in the zone.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed.” I grasp her by her underarms and twirl her around until her feet are touching the floor, but I still hold all her weight. I want to keep holding her here, just the two of us. But the jingle of Archie’s collar pulls me out of the moment too soon. I make sure her crutch is under her before I reluctantly let her go.
“You found Archie,” she says. “Are you guys going for a walk?”
I nod. “You’re making…um…progress?” I’m not sure what to call it. Dresses of all colors, designs, and eras are in every corner of the room. Piles of them.
Daisy smiles, looking disheveled and happy.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” She sighs. “I’m actually surprised you can tell I’m making progress. I know it looks a little crazy. But there’s a method behind the madness. I’ve reached out to my contacts and already have several auction houses interested. One friend works at the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute, and they want to include some of her looks in a retrospective on fashion icons throughout the ages,” she says, her eyes shining in excitement. “I’ll forward you all the details. I think it will be a wonderful way to honor your grandmother’s legacy.”
She looks up at me, and my chest expands. Her hair escapes a high bun that’s held together by a pair of chopsticks and a prayer. I brush a curl away from her eyes and tuck it behind a delicate ear. I’m tempted, so tempted, to let my hand brush her neck and continue downward, but I yank it back to my side.
Her breath whooshes out, making me think she might be just as affected as I am by our closeness.
“What’s this pile of clothes?” I ask to distract myself and walk over to a large stack carefully laid on the chaise lounge next to me.
“Oh. Those are items I’m not sure what to do with. They aren’t timeless or groundbreaking enough to go to auction or to a museum. This dress, for example, is lovely. But the designer went out of business decades ago. It’s not the most flattering. See the way it poofs out here, and the hemline is a little too long. The clothes are beautiful, but better suited to be included in a general estate sale. Or donated to a charity. Do you have a preference?”
A thought strikes me. “You take them. You love transforming old dresses into something new. Your originals were always the best part of your shop.”
“You noticed my designs?”
“Of course. They were incredible. Even when you were sixteen, you blew me away with your creativity. Chase had all that specialty fabric brought to you at the mansion, and you sewed your own designs, teaching yourself to drape fabric.”
Her eyes are wide with surprise, making me shift awkwardly. I suddenly feel like I’ve said too much, but I forge on. “Take them, Daisy. My grandmother would have loved having you create fresh life with her clothes.”
