Holly Would Dream

by Karen Quinn

  I glanced at Lucille, who was smiling demurely, and Sydney, who looked like she had pickle juice running through her veins. Guess we know who’s getting the museum named after her, I thought.

  Phinnaeus whipped off the cloth to reveal the new name of the museum: The Holly Boss Institute of Fashion.

  Everyone looked around, confused. Who in tarnation was Holly Boss? they had to be wondering. That was odd, I thought. They’re giving the directorship to someone with a name similar to mine…

  “Well, what do you know?” Denis said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “There’s a typo.” He was staring right at me.

  “Oh, dear, sorry about that,” Phinnaeus said. “As you mentioned, when you give an institution one hundred million dollars, you have a say in its future direction. And Mr. King has been most effective in persuading our board members that our museum is ready for a different kind of leader, a new boss, if you will. And that new leader is our own Holly Boss—I mean Ross.” Phinnaeus gestured my way and the crowd began chattering. Everyone stared at me. I would have reacted if I could have found my jaw. It was somewhere on the floor.

  “Now, wait just a moment,” Tanya started. “As the director, I have some say in this matter…”

  “Now, don’t you worry, Tanya,” Phinnaeus said. “You’re a talented girl. I’m sure Holly will find a role for you.”

  “But—but,” she stammered, “why?”

  Phinnaeus spoke under his breath, but it was loud enough for those of us in the front to hear. “She brings more to the table than you. It’s that simple.”

  “What does she bring that I don’t?” Tanya said.

  “One hundred million dollars, you fool,” Phinnaeus said through clenched teeth.

  Rags to Riches

  OKAY, LET ME GET this straight. Last week I was fired. Today my cup runneth over with two fashion museums to run. It was eerily reminiscent of the last time all my dreams converged into one perfect storm—when I was on the brink of being married and promoted. We all know how that turned out.

  I could not believe this was happening. My mouth was drier than happy hour at the Betty Ford Clinic. I gulped down half an abandoned, lipstick-stained flute of champagne, which was teeming with someone else’s microorganisms.

  Denis held up his hands to stop the chatter. “Holly Ross, our new director, why don’t you come up here so everyone can meet you?”

  I floated up the steps to the stage, stood next to Denis, and faced the crowd. “I’m smiling and pretending to be joking with you,” I whispered, “but I’m going to kill you. How could you surprise me with this?”

  “Now we’re even,” he said, laughing at his lame typo joke. Let’s face it: typo jokes are only rarely funny.

  Nigel, Cosima, and Elaina were holding on to each other, their mouths open so wide I could count their fillings. Gus, my favorite security guard, was standing in the back of the room giving me the thumbs-up signal. He looked ten years younger. Sammie and Tanya were fuming in the corner next to Sydney—the three scrooges. I wondered why Sydney wasn’t up here and what she must think about Denis naming the museum for me and not her. She’s got to be pissed, I thought.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Denis said, “Holly Ross is a hidden gem at this museum. She came here after earning her master’s at the Fashion Institute of Technology. I had the opportunity to see Holly in action recently while in Italy. First she bewitched a ship full of cruisers who have seen and heard it all with her mesmerizing lecture on the history of underwear. Then some valuable costumes went missing while in transit to another museum in Rome. Holly was relentless in getting those pieces returned to where they belonged. I’ve never seen such dogged determination in one person, and when I had the opportunity, through my wallet, to influence the leadership of this institution, I knew Holly was the one. This woman is the da Vinci of fashion historians.” Denis caught my eye and smiled, flashing those irresistible dimples.

  Oh, stop, please, I thought modestly. ’Twas I who lost those dresses in the first place…

  “Holly,” Denis said, “I’m sure everyone would love to hear from you.”

  This was awkward.

  I stepped up to the mike. A hush fell over the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m honored. I’m flattered. I’m shocked. I don’t know what to say, really, other than thank you for this show of confidence. But I’m…I’m going to have to…Denis, could I have a word with you in private?”

  (I Did It) My Way

  AS THE CROWD BUZZED with speculation, I led Denis to a walnut-paneled anteroom behind the dais.

  “You should see yourself right now,” Denis said. “What?”

  “You are the most magnetic woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, brushing my cheek with his hand. “There’s something about you that makes me have to look at you, listen to you. My God, there’s no escaping you.”

  A week he’s married and he already has a roving eye. I kicked him in the shin. “Shame on you.”

  “Aaaaah,” he cried. “What did you do that for?”

  “The answer’s no. You can’t name the museum for me and I won’t run it for you.”

  “But why?” he asked, looking deflated and in pain. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

  “Thrilled? What? To win second place?” I said. “I get the job but not the man. How could I work with you after what happened between us? Don’t you think Sydney would have something to say about that?”

  “Sydney? Why would I care what she says?”

  I knocked on his head. “Hello. Anyone home? She’s your wife.”

  “Ooooh, you think I married her,” Denis said, his eyebrows arched mischievously. “I called it off.”

  My body stiffened in shock. “You did? Then what is she doing here?”

  “She’s here because she and Bunny are million-dollar donors. And I called it off because I’m in love with you,” he said, smoothing a wayward tuft of my hair.

  I crossed my arms and shot him a cold look. “You have a funny way of showing it, leaving the ship without saying goodbye, not calling me back.”

  His expression grew serious. “I’m sorry. I was worried Sydney would cause a scene. And I wanted to get back to arrange all this,” he said, gesturing toward the ballroom, “to surprise you. I told you I had a thing about rescuing damsels.”

  I met his gaze. “Denis, I don’t need rescuing.”

  “Of course you don’t. What I meant was—”

  I shook my head and held my palms up to stop him. “Forget it. You see, the point is. Denis, here’s the thing…”

  “What is the thing?”

  A slow smile spread across my face. “The thing is, Carleen is donating one hundred million dollars so I can start a fashion museum in her name. Can you believe it? I’m thrilled. I’ll get to do everything—find the building, build a permanent collection, put on shows. It’s all going to be my vision. That’s why I couldn’t possibly let you name this place for me. It wouldn’t look right if I was running a competing institute across the street.”

  “Ah, I see,” Denis said. He stroked his chin as though he had a beard. “This does complicate things.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” I said. “You can name your museum for Lucille or Annie…”

  “I have a better idea,” Denis said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “How about a merger?”

  “A merger?”

  “Yes,” Denis said. “Take Carleen’s money, along with my donation, and run this museum according to your vision. Name it whatever you like. That way, you don’t have to start from scratch. It’ll be up and running much faster. You would control the most highly endowed fashion museum in the world.”

  “That’s certainly tempting,” I said thoughtfully. “So what you’re proposing is a business merger between our two museums?”

  Denis lifted my chin with his hand. “And a personal merger between the two of us.”

  “And you’re proposing this why?”

  Denis took
me in his arms and pressed his lips to mine, softly caressing my mouth more than kissing it, teasing me with his lips and tongue until we finally parted.

  “Oh, that’s why,” I murmured. “I can be so stupid.”

  It occurred to me that if the film of my life were An Affair to Remember, this would be the part where Cary Grant comes back to give Deborah Kerr his grandmother’s shawl and then he realizes she’s in a wheelchair and that’s why she never met him at the top of the Empire State Building and then they fall into each other’s arms and…shut up! This isn’t An Affair to Remember. This is my real, honest-to-goodness life, so go live it for crying out loud…

  “Excuse me, Denis, but could you explain that to me again?”

  He looked at me, his eyes moist with affection, then reclaimed my lips, ravishing them with his deep, warm kiss, sending my stomach into orbit.

  “And again…” I said.

  I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face

  One year later…

  “I DIDN’T BRING YOU all the way to Los Angeles so you could go swimming,” Denis said to Annie. “You’ll love Disneyland, I promise.”

  “But, Daddy, Poppy said it’s an hour-and-a-half drive. That’s boring,” Annie whined. “And aren’t you proud of how I’m not complaining that you dragged me to this stinky, grown-up restaurant.”

  “The Ivy isn’t a grown-up restaurant, Annie,” I said. “Didn’t you see Hilary Duff walk out when you were coming in?”

  “Yeah, but she’s so yesterday,” Annie protested.

  I playfully lobbed my buttered roll her way, and watched it bounce off her arm and fall to the ground. Two bluebirds landed to partake in the feast. We were sitting outside, under a large white umbrella, inside the picket fence enclosing the Ivy’s brick patio. The space was utterly charming with hanging baskets of flowers and wooden boxes of blooming red roses.

  “I’ll hear none of that, young lady,” Lucille said. “You’re going and that’s that. You’re going by helicopter!”

  “A helicopter. Grandma, you are so cool.”

  “Yes, aren’t I fabulous?” Lucille said. “You don’t mind if I spoil her, do you? I only have one grandchild…that is, unless you have something you want to tell me.”

  Denis laughed and looked at me. “What do you think, Holly?”

  “Nothing to report, but spoil her all you like,” I said. “It’s a grandmother’s right.”

  Denis and I were going to Sotheby’s while Annie and Lucille went to Disneyland. There were a few pieces we had our eyes on, most especially a 1958 Balenciaga blue silk-taffeta gown, a conical bra Jean Paul Gaultier designed for Madonna’s Blond Ambition tour, and the black dress Audrey Hepburn wore in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

  Few people know it, but they made three black dresses for the movie (in case one was damaged) and now a second one was up for sale. I just love having my own fashion museum. It’s so much fun to shop for. Naturally, the first piece we bought for our permanent collection was the 1953 Edith Head ball gown from Roman Holiday (acquired at full price even though it had mysteriously been damaged—tee hee!). Over the next few years, we hoped to acquire one costume from every movie Audrey ever made. That was my idea, but everyone thought it was brilliant. Did I mention how much I loved having my own fashion museum? Oh, yes, I believe I did.

  “Don’t forget, Annie, we’re taking you to Universal Studios tomorrow,” Carleen said.

  “Thank you so much,” I said. “She’d be bored stiff with us.” The next day, Pops and Carleen were entertaining Annie while Denis and I attended the wedding of Sammie Kittenplatt to Brewster Budgeon (of the Beverly Hills Budgeons). After Sammie’s fashion career crashed and burned (which coincided with the day I became her boss), her mother underwrote her new line of evening bags (called Simply Sammie) and arranged to marry her off to a model-actor-socialite who was very much of her world. We were invited, of course, since Denis and Sammie’s mother both served on the Carleen and Tex Panthollow Fashion Museum board. Rich people are very civilized that way.

  “It’s our pleasure to take her,” Pops said. “We can’t get enough of the little pipsqueak.”

  “Don’t call me a pipsqueak,” Annie said.

  “Pipsqueak,” he whispered, with a twinkle in his eye.

  The waiter came over to take our order. Pops insisted that the Ivy had “the best fried chicken anywhere, better even than Popeyes,” so everyone followed his recommendation.

  “Will you want a leg or a breast?” I asked Denis.

  He leaned over to kiss me. “I’ll have both.”

  I giggled. “Oh, stop!”

  “Holly, is that you?” someone said.

  I looked up and saw a familiar face, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Suzy. Suzy Hendrix,” she said.

  “Oh, my God!” I shrieked. “Give me a hug. Suzy, this is my husband, Denis King. Denis, this is Suzy Hendrix. She represented my old boyfriend in entertainment matters and when he was arrested for, well…you remember.”

  “I just moved to L.A.,” Suzy said. “I’m working for CAA.”

  “Do you ever see Alessandro?”

  “Yes, I just negotiated his appearance this fall on The Surreal Life with Carrot Top, the Snapple lady, and Robert Blake. It’s all he’s been able to get since the ‘incident,’” she said, making air quotes. “Such a pity.”

  “Life isn’t always what one wants,” I mused.

  Suzy waved at her friends, who were almost at the patio door. “Well, gotta run. Great to see you, Holly. Let’s do lunch sometime.”

  I fell back into my seat, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Poor Alessandro, doing reality TV was his worst nightmare. Between the two of us, I got the happy ending.”

  Denis leaned over and kissed my lips. “Honey, our happiness is only just beginning.”

  My cell phone vibrated and I looked to see if it was the call I had been waiting for. It was Tanya. You’d think I would have fired her after all that happened between us, but I didn’t. The woman was a master fund-raiser and we needed someone with that talent. I made her assistant director of the museum and paid her the same salary as before (as long as she met her donation quotas). Over the past year, she’d lost her superiority complex and the Anna Wintour sunglasses. It was progress.

  “Holly, I think we got it,” Tanya started. “Victoria’s Secret says they’re in for eight hundred thousand.”

  “Good work,” I said. “This’ll be huge. And remember what I said about selling cotton candy underwear and chocolate corsets at the museum store. People love them.”

  “Got it,” Tanya said. “Gus wants to talk with you. Something about the consultant’s report.” As soon as I took over the museum, I promoted Gus to head of security. Since taking the job, he had grown younger by the day. The violations I had gotten away with—borrowing clothes, traveling with inventory—highlighted just how vulnerable our collection was. We needed to tighten our procedures so that no one could ever commit the kinds of transgressions I had, at least not under my watch.

  “Tell him to send an e-mail and I’ll get back to him later.”

  “What did Tanya say?” Denis asked.

  “It seems she got full funding for the History of Underwear show.”

  Denis cocked his head thoughtfully. “So you were smart to keep her. I admit…”

  I interrupted him mid-cock. “…That you married a brilliant museum directress,” I teased.

  He leaned over and gave me kiss. I just love Denis’ scent. Kind of musky but slightly sweet—it’s his deodorant, very sexy and masculine.

  “You should see yourself right now,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “You’ve never looked lovelier.”

  As I playfully tapped the cleft in his chin, I closed my eyes and gave thanks for the blessings I’d been given, for the wringers I’d endured, and for the dreams that had come true.

  The End

  Did you spot the Audrey Hepburn and

  Cary Grant movie refere
nces?

  THERE ARE MORE THAN 125 hidden (and not so hidden) references to Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant movies in this novel. How many did you notice? If you want to see what they are, e-mail your request to the author at hollywoulddream@aol.com and she will be happy to send you the list.

  * * *

  Holly Would Dream

  About This Guide

  The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion of Holly Would Dream. We hope that these ideas will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book. Many fine books from Simon & Schuster feature reading group guides. For a complete listing, or to read the guides online, visit www.BookClubReader.com.

  Questions for Discussion

  The novel opens with the fairy tale beginning of “Once upon a time…” How is this story a fairy tale? What Audrey Hepburn movie does this opening pay homage to?

  Holly Ross is a bright, ambitious career woman who seems to have it all. What do you think the attraction was between her and Alessandro? Their breakup turned into a tabloid nightmare and he ends their engagement in a text message. When she asks him to help cancel the wedding arrangements, he refuses like a petulant child. “At that moment, I saw Alessandro, really saw him. He was appearing in the movie of his life and it was about to bomb. Why would I want to costar with such a loser? Was I that afraid to be alone?” What attracted Holly to Alessandro in the first place? Did she really love him? How does this action show Holly who Alessandro truly is? How did Holly miss this before?

  Real estate mogul Denis King makes quite an impression after he rescues a rain-soaked Holly in true Prince Charming fashion: “A woman could live happily ever after with a man like that. Any guy who would return to help the stranger his car splashed could be counted on to hold your hand when you walked down the street or your hair back when you puked.” Why doesn’t Holly completely trust Denis? Why do you think she doesn’t let on who she is?