Текст книги "A black tie affair"
Автор книги: Sherrill Bodine
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
CHAPTER
The phone started ringing on the oak chest beside Athena’s four-poster bed, disturbing her beloved Drusilla Junior curled as usual along her right hip. Weak light filtered around the lace curtains at her bedroom window. Awake, but still groggy from “sleeping it off,” as Dr. Stemmer put it, she slowly fought through her pile of fluffy pillows to reach out and pick up the phone on the fourth ring.
Drew? Her partner? The thought made her stomach growl.
No, no, she knew who it would be. Since she’d won the battle with her sisters to stay alone in her own bed, in her little piece of peace, her restored Lincoln Park carriage house, she’d expected them to check up on her at dawn.
“I love you for caring so much, but I’m just fine,” she said briskly into the phone.
“Certainly I’m pleased to hear it. When you failed to attend our meeting on Friday afternoon after you insisted on scheduling it, all I could get out of Makayla was that you had gone to the ER with a headache.”
The exasperated tone of Edna Keene, deputy director of the museum, sounded all too familiar. Athena sent a silent thanks to Makayla for keeping her secret as they had all sworn to do until further notice, even with Edna breathing down her neck.
Consumed with worry over Bertha’s missing dresses, Athena had let her meeting with Edna simply vanish from memory. Now it came rushing back with all its importance.
“Athena, are you still there?” Edna asked, a new irritation in her voice.
A little edge of panic made Athena fling back the covers, drop down on the cool wood floor, and begin to pace. “Yes, I’m here, just a little groggy.” She needed to go eyeball to eyeball with Edna. Needed to convince her and the board to continue her dad’s efforts to establish a scholarship fund. They needed to give her the green light on the exhibit.
She chose her words carefully. “I’m really sorry about the meeting. It was unavoidable. Could we please reschedule for Monday?”
“I’m in the Red Carpet Room at O’Hare. My flight to Paris leaves in ninety minutes. It will have to wait until I return from the conference in two weeks.”
Athena stood rooted to a spot in front of the small brick fireplace. “Another two weeks? You stopped my work on the exhibit weeks ago. There’s barely time now to complete the exhibit and plan the black tie opening.”
Edna’s heavy sigh sent an icy chill from Athena’s curling toes to her scorching cheeks.
“Athena, I told you, since your father resigned as a trustee, enthusiasm for expanding the Chicago Founding Families Exhibit and establishing a scholarship fund has waned on the board.”
“And I told you I’d find the funding myself,” she snapped back, fighting off the beginnings of another dull headache. Oh, my God, did I sleep off all the truth serum?
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Edna said in a tight little voice. “You know these things take time.”
Sick at the idea of letting Makayla down, Athena turned on her heels and paced the other way. “Edna, you know Makayla doesn’t have time. When she turns eighteen next month, she’ll be emancipated from the foster system. She needs our help now.”
The dreaded sigh again. Deeper, louder this time. She knew if she could see Edna, she’d be puffing out her thin chest and blowing through tense lips.
“Athena, your family is employing Makayla at your new emporium, which is generous of you. Do I need to remind you again that the museum is not a charity to help orphaned young ladies, no matter how gifted?”
Makayla was talented. She’d beat out the competition on her own merit. Athena had tried to be impartial, but inwardly she’d been rooting for her. She didn’t know exactly why Makayla grabbed her around the heart, but she did, and Athena refused to fail her now.
Anger burned away her need to be diplomatic. Or maybe truthfulness had residual effects.
“Edna, my mother helped build the Costume Collection from nothing to the second best in this country,” she said through clenched teeth because she shivered from the cold and frustration. “The collection has enhanced the museum’s reputation enormously, which is probably why you’ve been asked to the conference in Paris. And let us not forget that my father, through his financial expertise, helped solidify the museum’s endowment. I believe my family has earned a few minutes of your time and consideration of my request.”
Edna’s silence stabbed at Athena’s already bruised heart. No one had actually accused her father of embezzlement within her hearing, but she’d heard the gossip many times. Had felt it. Like she herself felt the dull ache of anger toward her dad. Why hadn’t he fought the Clayworths for his good name, or tried to explain, or even come up with an excuse? Anything would be better than his black hole of silence.
At last Edna gave another of her classic exasperated sighs. “We will discuss this upon my return.”
“Yes, we will. By then I’ll have the funding myself. Have a good flight.” She clicked off the phone and threw it on the bed.
She would finish what her father had started. Nothing else mattered.
Except for the not-so-small matter of her guilt.
She didn’t give a damn whether or not Drew suspected her of thievery. Maybe he’d agreed to her proposal so he could watch her. She didn’t care about his motives. She’d stick to their unhealthy alliance to get what she needed.
She did care that her becoming ill might have compromised the Secret Closet’s security system because Bridget left it unlocked when Athena had to be rushed to the hospital. If she hadn’t stuck her head under the skirt for hours, the dresses and further unsuspecting victims of the fumes might never have been at risk. So not only did she have to fix the mess her father left, she must do whatever it took to help Drew find the Bertha Palmer dresses. The sooner the better. Like sands through the hourglass, time was running out. She had less than three weeks.
She glanced at the small crystal clock on her bedside table. Saturday morning, opening day at Pandora’s Box.
Fixing the past would have to wait a few more hours.
Like on most Saturday mornings, Drew walked through the heavy doors of the Chicago Athletic Union.
Absently swinging his racket bat, he plotted his next move with Athena. Could he trust her to keep up her end of things?
He took the steps two at a time to control his surge of adrenaline. He had no time for confusion. Regardless of their past, he and Athena needed to find those dresses together, and soon.
On the landing, he glanced up at the life-size paintings of his great-grandfather John Clayworth, the founder of the club, and grandfather William Clayworth, who had been the life force keeping the game of rackets flourishing in Chicago. Drew saluted them as he passed, acknowledging how well they’d kept their mission alive.
He and Connor were like all Clayworth males for generations, believing rackets was more than a ball game for two or four people played with bats and a hard ball in a high, four-walled slate court. It was a gentleman’s game in which they developed the camaraderie, the Clayworth loyalty, that the family had become legendary for maintaining.
They were as solid as ever, but a hell of a lot less gentlemanly, playing harder on and off the court.
Ducking, Drew stepped through the short steel door into one of three racket courts still remaining at the club.
“You’re late!” Connor called out.
“I’m still taking your money this morning,” Drew laughed, swinging his bat.
He glanced up into the galley to make sure Patrick, the rackets pro, hadn’t arrived yet to be their marker before they discussed family business. “Whoever wins decides whether or not we attend the opening of Pandora’s Box today.”
“Are you nuts? Did you get a whiff of that truth serum? They’ve agreed to keep quiet about the dresses. Let’s not give them reason to change their minds.” Connor didn’t disguise his impatience. “As Clayworth legal counsel, I advise against it.”
“Cut the lawyer crap, Connor. You know as well as I do that Ann Smith was Henry’s muse for years. She helped make the Fashions of the Hour Shop what it is today. The fact her daughters hate our guts doesn’t change anything. I told you Athena and I cut a deal. Besides, you’re the one who told me I needed to keep communication open with her.”
“I say we leave it alone.” Connor locked eyes with him, and their war of wills filled the room with tension. “If we attend, the speculation about Alistair’s retirement will start up again.”
“It’s never gone away.” Drew glanced up. “Patrick is here. Let’s play.”
His mind more on the reason for the tight band of tension between them than on the game, Drew let Connor take the point.
With each slam of his bat, and each point Patrick called out above them, Drew watched Connor and thought about Alistair Smith. So highly trusted by Clayworth’s for decades. What had gone wrong?
Could the missing dresses have anything to do with Alistair? Could Athena be involved?
Drew served hard to the corner, and Connor missed the shot.
Connor shook his head. “All right. I owe you a twenty, but you haven’t won yet.”
Drew nodded, but he couldn’t concentrate on the game. He kept thinking how Connor saw the world in black and white. To Connor, Alistair had been duplicitous and responsible for major losses at their bottom line. Did he see Athena in the same way?
Again, Drew went through his analysis of the case against Alistair. The investments gone wrong. They had been significant, but not fatal. When had Alistair decided to become a gambler, making riskier investments, trying for bigger returns to cover his losses?
Did Athena know Drew’s had been the deciding vote condemning her father and demanding he step down?
If Alistair wasn’t the one to sign off on the risky investments, it had to be one of my cousins.
The ball whizzed past Drew’s ear.
He needed to get his head back in the game, not dwell on the impossible.
He hit Connor’s next serve neat and perfect, and the game escalated into a battle of wills. The slam of the ball against the wall over and over again became the rhythm of the pure male aggression rising off them like sweat. Christ, they hadn’t played with this much concentration in championship games. No banter, just blood-and-guts competition. Forget their usual bets. Today it was all about the Smith sisters, their dad, and, for Drew, the past.
He needed to get this over with. He hit the ball hard to Connor, slamming in the winning point.
Breathing and sweating like stallions after a race, their white shirts hanging out and white shorts rumpled and creased, they both bent over, catching their breath.
Drew caught his first. “We go to Pandora’s Box. I talk to Athena. Then I’m taking the kids from the center sailing before my race.”
Connor looked up at him and frowned. “You’re racing a lot lately. What’s going on?”
Drew shrugged. “You know I love it. Clayworths are creatures of habit. Look at us.”
Connor laughed. “Yes. Sometimes I hate this game.”
Drew nodded. “Yeah, I hear you. On that note, I’m heading for a shower.”
Connor followed him. “What’s bothering you, Drew? Are you second-guessing yourself about Athena? Do you think they’re up to something?”
Some emotion Drew couldn’t put a name to swept through him. “I don’t know yet. Today is about paying our debt to Ann Smith for years of loyalty by supporting her daughters in a new business enterprise.” Yeah, and an excuse to see Athena to figure the rest out.
Connor walked away but turned back to flash one of his rare grins. “For the record, I think you’re up to something. If you ever need me to crew for you, I’m in.”
Drew slowly followed him into the locker room, feeling guilty about keeping his plans to himself.
Yeah, he was up to something. Bridget had been right. It was more than time for him to fix himself. Finally fulfill the promise he’d made to himself. A promise Athena had stopped him from keeping.
Standing in the shower, letting the hot water pound over his shoulders, Drew couldn’t stop thinking about Athena. Trying like he had a hundred times before to understand why she’d betrayed his trust. He’d told her about that first time in Cowes on the Isle of Wight in England, standing with his parents as the competitors set sail on the famous offshore yachting race—the excitement he’d felt. Forty-four hours and eighteen minutes later, when the winner sailed into Plymouth in the South of England, after rounding the Fastnet Rock off the southwest coast of Ireland, they were there to see it. The passion to be that winner burned in his gut. He’d told his parents he wanted to race in the Fastnet. Knew they could win it.
He’d explained it all to Athena, his best friend. Why had she lied and said she understood?
Closing his eyes, Drew turned his face up and let the water cascade over it. It reminded him of the two years he’d been away from Chicago, away from everyone he cared about, to sail with his mom and dad while they perfected their skills for the next Fastnet race. They’d raced through sparkling swells that tossed back a spritzing of spray and towering black mountains of water that drenched him. He had been as good a sailor as both of them, better, in fact, and they knew it.
Yet they still wouldn’t let him crew the Fastnet, even though it had been his desire driving them from the beginning.
Drew turned on the cold water, numbing the memory of that last day when he’d begged them to let him go with them. He could still see his father’s stern face telling him they had decided it was too dangerous. Feel his mother’s cool lips on his cheek as she whispered, You’re so young, sweetie. All the crews are older and very experienced sailors.
Experience hadn’t been enough when the killer gale smashed through the 303-boat fleet off the English and Irish coasts, leaving fifteen dead, five boats sunk, and another seventy-five capsized. His parents dead from something he suggested they do.
He hadn’t been a kid for a very long time. Back then, he’d been irrational, thinking he could have changed it all if he’d been allowed to go.
He knew his racing in the Fastnet wouldn’t bring his parents back, wouldn’t change the outcome. Yet he needed to do it to assuage his feelings of guilt and regret. It represented closure for him, and he knew it was more than time for him to find it.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing in there? Leave some water for the next guy! I’m in the bar waiting for you,” Connor shouted and rapped on the glass shower door.
Drew shut off the water, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stepped out. “Sorry. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
Connor studied him through narrow eyes. “Tell me what’s eating you. Do you want me to work with Athena on this instead of you?”
Drew shrugged. “I’m fine. Thinking too much about paying debts.”
“Clayworths always do, with interest. Why else would you want us to risk the wrath of Athena and her sisters?” Connor walked away, leaving Drew staring after him.
Athena, who owed him a debt. Was it time for her to pay?
Athena owed it to her sisters, who were hovering around her, to have ignored Edna’s dawn phone call. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of their lives, and Athena would make it that and more. If only Venus weren’t determined to give her another headache.
“I still think the moment Rebecca arrives to tape the segment for Talk of the Town, we should tell her what happened to you at Clayworth’s Secret Closet,” Venus declared for the third time.
Diana rose, quivering in fury, and placed her hands on her narrow hips. Even though Diana stood only five foot one and one half inches in her bare feet and Venus five foot seven in hers, they seemed to be glaring eyeball to eyeball. Sometimes Athena thought Diana’s strong will made her taller when necessary.
“Absolutely not, Venus! I absolutely forbid it!” Diana shouted.
Makayla looked around from where she fussed, perfectly adjusting the heavy velvet drapery to the dressing room, and frowned.
Athena threw her an encouraging smile and stepped between her sisters. “Diana is right. You agreed to the deal I made with Drew for Bertha’s dresses.”
“I know, and I understand why you did it, Athena, but I’ll never understand why Diana continues to work for their stores and, worse, actually defends the Clayworths.” Venus leveled her powerful glare upon their tiny sister, who, as usual, refused to flinch.
“I have my reasons,” Diana retorted, again refusing to discuss her decision not to resign her position as director of window displays and interior decoration for all ten stores.
Wanting to set a good example for Makayla, who obviously couldn’t resist her urge to eavesdrop, Athena adopted her older-sister voice. “Venus, you know as well as I do the Clayworths begged and offered Diana more money than they should have to stay in her position.”
Venus threw a rope of her hair over one shoulder and sniffed with disdain. “Some people are willing to sell their souls to the devil. I can’t believe it of my baby sister.”
“Please!” Diana drawled. “You’d sell your soul for a vintage Kenneth Jay Lane piece.”
“Only if it was signed,” Venus snapped.
“Exactly,” Athena sighed, negotiating for cool-down time. “Venus, you’re a genius with jewelry. Diana is a display genius who can do more with accessories, fabric, and trimmings than anyone in Chicago. Look what she’s done with Pandora’s Box.”
The two rooms reminded Athena of the inside of a velvet jewelry box. This main room, all soft pink and brown, flowed into the smaller one, dominated by a ladies’ art deco vanity table with a triple mirror. A more perfect setting didn’t exist for customers to try on hats or delight in exquisite toilette items. Compacts, crystal perfume bottles, hair receivers, sterling silver and ivory comb-and-brush sets were all perfectly displayed, along with one-of-a-kind purses and hand-sewn gloves.
Venus shrugged. “I love you, Diana, but I’ll never truly understand your decision to stay on there after the unjust way they treated Dad.”
Guilt made Athena look away.
Loving Venus, if you only knew how confused I am about the Clayworths, you wouldn’t understand me, either.
A commotion outside the door swung them all toward it, releasing the little ribbon of tension twisting around them.
Rebecca Covington-Sumner, dazzling in a red Valentino suit, swept in, followed by her cameraman. “Darlings, you all look beautiful, as usual!”
Rebecca blew a kiss to Makayla, who stood timidly by the counter, hugged Venus and Diana, and stepped in front of Athena, staring intently through the tinted glasses.
Athena had the unsettling feeling that the truly wise Rebecca could see right into her eyes and thoughts. Since Dad’s trouble, Rebecca had been even more extraordinarily kind.
“Darling! Why were you in the hospital overnight? No one will talk.”
Athena knew if Rebecca had really probed deeper, someone at the hospital would have gossiped. People always told her everything.
“Just some silly bug.” She squeezed Rebecca’s hands and stepped back to twirl around. Her black dress—Dior New Look, 1940s—swirled around her knees. “See? All better. Today is much too special to miss.”
“Your mother would be so proud,” Rebecca sighed, sharing her sweet smile with all of them.
Diana blinked her long lashes, as if trying to ward off tears.
“No getting weepy. Even happy tears. Or I will, too,” Rebecca scolded gently. “Can’t have all of us with red noses and running mascara on television.” She turned around, surveying the room. “Phil, I want shots of the store, and then I’ll do the interviews before the hordes of customers start pouring in.”
“Here’s hoping,” Venus laughed, glancing lovingly at the table of exquisite vintage costume jewelry and semiprecious jewelry she’d collected.
“Phil, on my cue, please get a shot of those costume pieces on the right and the semiprecious on the left of that table,” Rebecca ordered and adjusted her microphone.
“I’m ready on three,” she said softly. She took a long, deep breath. “One… two… three.” Rebecca looked straight at the camera, and her smile was so warm and welcoming it lit up the store.
No wonder Talk of the Town was such a hit.
“Good morning, darlings! Up and at it this beautiful Chicago spring day. As promised, we are here at the grand opening of Pandora’s Box, the Smith sisters’ fabulous vintage emporium. You all remember this was once the home of LuLu’s at the Belle Kay, until the divine owner, Laurie, won the biggest lotto in history. A longtime family friend of the Smiths, Laurie passed on to them the mantle of providing the most exquisite vintage couture in Chicago. Then off she went for a five-year around-the-world shopping holiday with her handsome husband on their fabulous yacht. When last sighted, they were in Monte Carlo and looked absolutely marvelous. Laurie is planning to send treasures to the Smith sisters from the finest closets in the world. So frequent visits to Pandora’s Box are a must.”
At the barely perceptible flutter of Rebecca’s hand, with its huge five-karat diamond ring, Phil panned to the large, round jewelry table.
“Speaking of treasures, my name is on that simple but sensational necklace with the deep green pools of emeralds. Tell me about this piece, Venus.”
“You have a great eye for the best, Rebecca. It’s a rare, 1952 Christian Dior Paris necklace. Simplistic silhouette, but the green paste emeralds and diamantes set in sterling are captivating. It’s one of the best pieces in the store.” Venus picked it up as if they’d rehearsed.
Pride swelled in Athena’s chest as she watched Venus show off her expertise in jewelry and Diana displayed her first collectable piece, a 1930 white microbeaded purse with a gold frame encrusted with diamantes, and had Makayla model a jaunty little black velvet evening hat. Athena felt their mother beside her and gave silent thanks to her for intuitively knowing each of their passions and guiding them into the fabulous world of vintage fashion, the way Athena now wanted to help Makayla.
The vision of the black velvet gown Athena had seen in a vintage store as a teenager and rushed in to purchase floated into her memory. She loved the low-cut bodice encrusted with jet, the puffy leg-of-mutton sleeves, and, best of all, the graceful train. She remembered finding the finger loop for the train and using it, dancing around the dressing room, feeling like a goddess. Even though it was black, she’d vowed to be married in the dress. Long ago, young and foolish, she’d thought she would wear it for Drew.
Now it hung in her closet at the museum. Never worn, and perhaps it never would be.
The black dress morphed into a vision of her and Drew finding the four exquisite Bertha Palmer gowns crumpled in a huge heap on some thief’s grimy floor.
No doubt the vision symbolized their past relationship.
Rebecca touched her shoulder, and Athena came back to the real world. “Tell me, Athena, what is the most amazing dress in Pandora’s Box at the moment?”
Athena flashed the camera her best curator smile and moved to one of the closets without doors. “Without a doubt it is this 1960 Valentino.” She held up the dress so the cameraman could get a good shot. “It’s ivory duchesse satin with long sleeves encrusted with rhinestones. It’s worn with a sleeveless matching evening coat and this belt with a beautiful rhinestone-encrusted buckle.”
“Love it,” Rebecca sighed, her eyes wide with admiration. “Absolutely perfect for any bride.”
Rebecca gestured to the cameraman, who panned the entire store and came back to her face. “Pandora’s Box is so full of delights, all you fashionistas out there won’t know what to buy first!”
“Cut, Phil.” Rebecca sighed. “Wonderful stuff. I’ll interview the first few customers, and then we’ll be out of your way.”
Rebecca broke off, drawing in a short, sharp breath. Athena looked up and did the same.
Their hair still wet from showers, Drew and Connor strolled through the door.
She couldn’t take her eyes off Drew, and he’d been staring at her from the moment he sauntered into the store.
Why are they here? This isn’t part of our deal.
Speechless with surprise, she tore her gaze away from Drew and looked at Rebecca for help.
With a dazzling smile, Rebecca leaped into the breach. On her cue, the cameraman began to film.
“Checking out the competition, gentlemen?” Rebecca laughed up at them.
With legendary Clayworth charm, Drew’s cornflower gaze swept over Rebecca, from her Christian Louboutins to her halo of light hair, as he slowly smiled. “Pandora’s Box is the place to be today. Especially with you here, Rebecca.”
Rebecca gave him a knowing glance. “Ah, Drew, always the charmer.”
He grinned. “We’re also here because John Clayworth and Company has always valued other fine retailers.”
“Spoken like the founder himself,” Rebecca said with a laugh and moved on to Connor.
He blushed to the roots of his thick, coal-black hair, his green eyes from his father’s family darkening to a deep emerald. As always, his powerful muscles seemed to be fighting his preppy clothes. “I’m picking out a gift for my aunt.”
Rebecca turned away to interview the first customer coming through the door, and in three strides Drew stood at Athena’s side.
“You look flushed. How are you? Still feeling any effects?”
She’d felt perfectly fine before they arrived, but now her skin tingled with warmth. Maybe she should turn on the air conditioner in the store. It must be getting hotter outside. Bright sunlight bathed the crowd gathered on the sidewalk, drawn by the red Ferrari F430 convertible and the silver Porsche.
“Athena, are you feeling all right?” he asked again, more sharply this time.
“I’m perfectly fine.” She thrust up her chin, prepared for whatever the Fates planned to deal her this time. She felt the tension vibrating off Venus, saw the curiosity in Diana’s eyes and the intent way Makayla watched them all.
“Why are you really here, Drew?” She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t mention her father, the elephant in the room by his absence. Dad was represented only by the spectacular arrangement of three dozen sterling silver roses he had sent to congratulate them on the opening. If Drew said one word about their dad, all hell would break loose with Venus and Diana.
“We’re here out of respect for your mother.”
She almost believed him, but she knew there must be more to this visit. But thank goodness his words were enough to cause Diana to nod and Venus to relax.
All at once she felt furry warmth around her ankles and looked down at Drusilla Junior brushing against her.
Drew laughed, a shadow of mockery on his face. “No. This can’t be. It can’t be your cat from when we were kids.” His eyes crinkling at the corners, he looked at Athena and then down at the cat, who promptly deserted her to rub against Drew’s calf.
Smiling, he swept Junior up in his arms, and the disloyal hussy licked his hand.
His long fingers slowly stroking Drusilla’s stomach mesmerized Athena. She shook her head to clear it of such foolishness and then nodded. “Of course this isn’t Drusilla Senior. It’s Junior, from Drusilla’s first litter.”
She’d forgotten how Drew’s eyes seemed warmed from inside when he really smiled.
“Junior? Athena, I believe it’s my duty to tell you this is a female.”
Drew rubbed Junior under the chin, and Athena heard the cat purr loud and clear.
“Of course I know Junior is a girl. I happen to be a big fan of the designer Carolina Herrera, who has a daughter, Carolina Junior, so I did the same.”
“I guess it makes sense,” Drew laughed, nestling Junior in the crook of his arm.
Her beloved cat stared at her for a second, as if debating whether or not staying nestled in Drew’s arm could be worth risking her treats for the day. Smart like her mother, Junior jumped daintily down to walk back to her bed in the store office, an opulent bower with the computer hidden in an antique cherry cabinet.
She looked back at Drew and caught him watching her in such an odd, intent way, she couldn’t stop the heat curling through her. No doubt she blushed like the teenager she’d been the last time he’d looked at her like this.
She mustered up some cool thoughts that had nothing to do with him. “What?”
“Drusilla Junior brings back a lot of memories.” His voice sounded so intimate and deep she could drown in it.
Poking her in the ribs, Venus threw her a life preserver.
“Athena, the cameraman is still filming. We should do something,” she whispered.
The room came into focus, filled with curious spectators from outside wandering into the store, followed by a dozen more. Venus happily rushed off to help them.
“I’ll get out of your way,” Drew said in that same deep, intimate voice. “Lewis sent out an alert to all the hospitals and physicians in the area. I have Ed investigating. Anything from your contacts?”
Nothing was more important to her than finding those dresses, but for the next few hours she had to put the search on hold for Pandora’s Box. “Nothing yet. I’ll be in touch.” Maintaining her outward calm, she nodded and walked away to help a woman looking at evening gowns.
She refused to acknowledge the memories Drew stirred, with or without Drusilla in his arms. To stop them, she threw herself into answering every question asked about vintage dresses in such detail most customers got a glazed look of information overload.
She took a deep breath, turning to find her next victim, and saw Connor waiting patiently at the counter.
He placed a gold Panetta bangle, set with beautiful green cabochon stones, in front of Venus. Even from where Athena stood, she heard Venus make a sound not quite a snort. Connor looked at her with a puzzled quirk of his lips, which Venus completely ignored.
“For my aunt Bridget,” he explained.
It was the perfect gift for Bridget. Athena breathed a sigh of relief when, with a toss of her hair, Venus nodded and allowed Connor to buy it.
Athena deliberately looked away when Connor joined Drew and the Clayworth men made their grand exit.
Rebecca seemed to be everywhere. Smiling, enchanting the customers, and generally making Pandora’s Box the place to be today.
