“Oh, but your plans for it are so perfect!” Audrey said. “How’s the hunt for a contractor coming along?”
“Not,” Claire said glumly, pulling a piece of salami off a platter and nibbling the edge. “Everyone’s either out of my budget or has their own stupid ideas on how to modernize the place in a way I don’t want. I want it classic, but better. How’s that so hard to understand?”
“Actually,” Oliver said thoughtfully, pointing his glass at her. “I may have someone. One of my contractor guys mostly does high-end commercial stuff, but he’s been looking for a change. Something simple.”
“I can’t imagine a tired brownstone’s what he had in mind.”
Oliver shrugged. “I’ll ask him.”
“Clarke.” Audrey was scolding. “You can’t just turn on someone else’s TV without asking.”
“Oliver, can I watch the Yankees game without asking?”
“Ooh, yes,” Claire said, going to the couch and plopping down.
Clarke began flipping through the channels when Audrey snatched the remote out of his hand. “You do remember why we’re here, right?”
He gave a mock sigh and reached for some popcorn. “All right. Fine.” He glanced back at Naomi. “For the record, this is the only thing I’d sacrifice the game for.”
“We don’t have to watch it,” Naomi said, biting her lip and resting a hip on the arm of the couch. “The viewing party was Oliver’s idea, but—”
Claire pulled her down on the couch. “Shut up. We’re watching this.”
Naomi groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t think I can. Do you know they started the show when I, well, TV me was a baby.”
“I bet you were cute!” Audrey protested.
“I was orange.”
Oliver leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her head. “No, Carrots. You were perfect.”
Then he joined them on the couch, and together they waited for the premiere of Max: The Naomi Powell Story.
A story that Dylan Day had had no part in, thank you very much.
Once Dylan had made an inglorious departure from the project, the show wasn’t nearly as excruciating as she’d been expecting. Sure, the network pushed for the juicy details, but her new producer respected her decision to leave her history with Oliver and the Cunninghams out of it. And actually, the show was good, she admitted, a little sheepishly. Really good. She was allowed to tell her story, show little girls that they could make it with hard work and determination. Tell them that she’d be there to help open doors for them.
Oliver found her hand and squeezed as Claire’s arm linked with hers, and Naomi smiled.
Because no matter how good the show was?
Her real life was better.
Turning a story idea into a published book takes a village.
To my village, you know who you are. As always, I am so grateful.
Meet the Wedding Belles
They can make any bride’s dream come true. And now it’s their turn.
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Passion on Park Avenue Page 24
