Always the Designer, Never the Bride

by Sandra D. Bricker

  Kat wrinkled her brow and stared at her for a moment before spinning on her heel and leaving the office.

  "What do I think?" Audrey said. "I think it's a little strange that you would start a plus-size line when you clearly can't stand plus-size people."

  "Ironic, isn't it?" he remarked. "Frankly, I had been thinking of expanding my demographic for quite a while. I was right in the middle of working on a business plan when I saw what you had done right here."

  She wanted to stop him from even glancing at Lisette's gown, but LaMont stood up and walked toward it where she and Kat had placed it on the form. She found herself wishing she'd never been so foolish as to ask this man for help of any kind.

  "It's exquisite, really."

  Audrey leaned back in her chair and watched him. His words and tone didn't quite match.

  "For me to inspire a designer of your caliber," she said cautiously, "is a highlight of my career."

  "Your short career."

  "I'm sorry. What?"

  "You've been designing for, what? Three years?"

  "If you count Barbie couture, it's been more than twenty." He didn't appear to find the amusement in her statement. "But professionally, since I graduated five or six years ago."

  "Still so many dues to pay," he commented.

  What you don't know about the dues I've paid could fill several of your glass-encased offices.

  "I'd considered asking you to join my house. Did you know that?"

  "No," she fibbed.

  "What would you have said?"

  The way he looked at her made Audrey antsy somehow.

  "If you'd extended an offer that you've clearly decided now not to extend?" she clarified with a push-up smile. "I normally save my brain cells for actual problem-solving rather than the hypothetical variety."

  "I suspect you would have accepted," he observed as he folded back into the chair.

  "Oh?"

  He nodded, looking at her over the bridge of his glasses. "Mm-hm. Because Audrey Regan Designs is, for all intents and purposes, ready to capsize. In fact, it should have already if not for a fluke break here and there. And although you would prefer to navigate the fashion world under your own name, you might have accepted a position working for me just to keep the dream going a little longer."

  "You seem to have given this a lot of thought, Wes."

  "You're talented, Audrey. You have a good eye and a fresh perspective."

  "Thank you for saying so."

  "But you still have years of hits and misses before you're ever going to be able to stand on your own two feet. My taking you under the considerable banner of House of LaMont would just make your trip around the mountain that much longer, and my investment in you futile."

  Audrey vowed silently not to show him reaction of any sort. She would not lower her eyes, nor would she take one breath that might be mistaken for a sigh of resignation or disappointment.

  "I don't happen to agree with you," she finally said coolly. "Regardless of that, we are at least on the same page. I don't see working for you as something in the best interest of my design career. So if you had made the offer, Wes, I would have . . . respectfully declined."

  His grin seemed to slither across his face.

  "That being said, I appreciate so much that you opened your doors to me while I worked in Atlanta." She knew better than to continue, but she couldn't manage to stop herself. "I hope you'll reconsider and allow me to reimburse you for the office space we've occupied?"

  Audrey gulped. The empty offer hovered over her like thick morning vapor on a very still lake.

  "Certainly not."

  Oh, thank God!

  "I have you to thank for the new direction with Rubenesque. You're my muse, Audrey."

  He rose from the chair and just stood there looking at her for a long, uncomfortable gap of time before he finally turned and clicked across the floor and out the door.

  Audrey inhaled sharply, holding the air inside her lungs for several seconds before releasing it slowly. On her second shot, Kat scurried into the room and closed the door behind her.

  "He has pictures."

  Audrey blew out the air from her lungs before asking, "Sorry, what?"

  "I was just talking to Billie, Audrey. LaMont has digital photographs of Lisette's gown. He had her upload them to his laptop yesterday when Monique was out sick."

  "And Billie just told you this."

  "She can't stand the bugger either," Kat revealed, her eyes open wide and her expression so serious that Audrey almost laughed.

  "Will she help us to—"

  "Yep."

  "Are you sure?"

  Kat nodded emphatically.

  "Let's pack up then. We'll need to vacate quickly once the deed is done."

  Rather than stop and examine this new information and try to figure it all out, Audrey leapt to her feet. She and Kat sprang into action. While Kat packed several boxes with remnants of fabric, beading, thread, and pattern paper, Audrey draped a garment bag carefully atop the gown and dress form.

  When she picked up her cell phone from the desk and began to dial, Kat asked her, "What are you doing?"

  "Calling for reinforcements."

  A moment later, J. R. had agreed to drive into Atlanta with Devon's truck. The bed would be plenty big enough to house a couple of boxes and a super-sized body with no head.

  Top Four Types of Bridal Gown Trains

  1. Sweeping Train

  Also known by the term "brush train" because it

  barely brushes the floor,

  this is a good choice when the goal is an elegant but

  simple statement gown.

  2. Chapel Train

  Usually about four feet from the waistline, this choice can be

  used for either formal or informal gowns, dependent upon

  the silhouette of the dress.

  3. Cathedral Train

  Nearly twice as long as the chapel train, this option is

  most often used for a formal affair, or for that fairy-tale

  wedding with the big impact.

  The cathedral train is often detachable for freedom on the

  dance floor.

  4. Royal Train

  Think Kate Middleton.

  The royal train falls eight feet or more from the waistline,

  and it usually enters the church a minute or more after the

  bride's entrance.

  14

  You brought Russell?"

  "I thought we might need some extra muscle."

  "And . . . you brought Russell?"

  J. R. laughed. "Not that kind of muscle, Agent 99. Muscle for lifting boxes."

  "But he's . . ." Audrey raised an eyebrow as she whispered, "a loose cannon."

  The four of them managed to get the boxes out of the office, down the stairs, and into the back of Devon's truck without much notice. But as they emerged with the real treasure, every eye in the building seemed to be focused on them.

  Audrey had removed Mac's stick leg and metal stand, and she balanced them clumsily as she led the way down the corridor toward the stairs. J. R. and Russell followed, one of them on each end of the headless, gowned torso sealed inside the vinyl bag.

  "What on earth!" Monique exclaimed from where she stood in front of Billie's desk. "Are you leaving?"

  "Well, Mac is," Audrey replied, and she stepped aside on the stairway for J. R. and Russell to continue with the getaway.

  "Was that . . . Russell Walker?"

  Audrey's antennae perked, and she stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled. "Yes. Yes, it is. Would you like to meet him, Monique?"

  "Could I?"

  "Of course. We'll be right back," she said, waving her hand over her head and descending the stairs at a speedy clip.

  With the truck parked in the loading zone just outside the front door, and Kat already standing in the back of the truck to guide the precious cargo to a safe landing, Audrey whispered, "Make sure she's secure. If anyth
ing happens to this dress, I'm done."

  Kat grinned at her. "There's a tarp!"

  "Excellent. Can you and J. R. manage? I need to steal Russell for a moment."

  "I knew it," Russell cackled. "The ladies can never resist an Aussie."

  "Oh, stow your ego for thirty seconds, will you? I need to distract someone, and you're just the eye candy to do it."

  "Did you hear that?" he asked J. R. "I'm eye candy."

  Audrey snagged his wrist and tugged Russell back into the building. At the bottom of the marble stairway, she turned and stared him down.

  "No nonsense," she warned in a raspy whisper. "There's a woman at the top of these stairs named Monique. I need you to charm her and do everything you can to get her to follow you back into the office we just cleaned out. Do you understand?"

  "I do," he said, mock-serious. "My mission, should I choose to accept it—"

  "Russell, please. This is so important."

  "Calm down. I've got it."

  Halfway up the stairs, Audrey stopped and grabbed Russell's arm. "The other woman. Billie. Do not engage her. She's doing me a favor once you get Monique out of the way."

  "Rightie-oh."

  "So it's Monique only."

  " 'Kay!"

  Russell started up the stairs again, but Audrey snagged his arm one more time.

  "Down the hall and out of the way."

  "Yes, Audrey. Now shouldn't we get on with this?"

  She sighed. "Sorry."

  Just as she suspected, Monique stood waiting at the very top of the stairs. Audrey glanced at Billie over the woman's tailored shoulder, and Billie nodded.

  "Monique, this is Russell Walker. Russell, this is Weston LaMont's right arm. The place would be a dysfunctional machine without Monique."

  "Oh, Audrey, really."

  Monique grinned at Russell like a hungry cheetah. Thankfully, Russell lunged before she did.

  "Monique," he repeated, and he grabbed her hand, slowly walking her down the hall. "What a beautiful French name. And it's perfect for you because it stems from the Latin word monere, which means to advise. You were deemed a leader from the time you were born."

  Billie jumped up from her chair and rounded the desk. "Oh, he's good," she whispered to Audrey. "I'll just need three minutes."

  Audrey touched Billie's arm as she rushed past her. "Thank you so much."

  Through the glass, she watched Russell charm the woman, realizing Monique had no idea what had hit her. She found herself worrying for a moment that perhaps Russell's keen abilities with women might end up breaking Kat's heart in the long run. What was to prevent him from—

  "Billie tells me you're leaving us."

  Audrey reeled around to find LaMont standing behind her. "Y-yes. And I want to thank you for everything, Wes. I don't even have words to tell you . . . what it was like to get to know you."

  She didn't want to, but Audrey shook his hand enthusiastically.

  "Really. Thank you so much. For the work space and the lunches. And the tip about the eggplant sandwiches at Caruso's."

  Okay. Now you're babbling.

  "Anyway, thank you."

  "I wish you the best of luck, Audrey."

  "And you too. I mean with the Rubenesque line. I hope it . . . soars to the heights that you deserve."

  "That's very gracious."

  "Oh. Well." Audrey glanced down the hall over LaMont's shoulder for the hundredth time. Where was she? "Gracious. I don't know. What is gracious, really? But—"

  At last, Billie raced into view and gave her the A-OK.

  "Where is that Russell?" Waving her arms at him through the glass, she exclaimed, "Time to go! Let's go now."

  She watched as Russell kissed Monique's hand. She couldn't hear her moan as she swooned, but she certainly could see it. The woman melted like a wax candle on a sunny window sill.

  "LaMont, isn't it?" Russell said as he moved toward them. "How are you, mate?"

  Russell extended his hand, but Audrey snagged it from the air between the two men. "J. R. is waiting downstairs, Russell. We've got to go."

  "Oh. All rightie then."

  "Thanks again for everything," Audrey said as she pulled him toward the stairs. She turned back and shot Billie a covert smile. "Really. Thank you."

  And with that, they headed down the stairs.

  Near the bottom, Audrey told Russell, "If you're using that false charm of yours on Kat, and you're not genuine with her, I'm going to hang you by your ponytail from the second floor balcony. When you fall out of The Tanglewood sky this time, you'll do it without your hair."

  Russell winced as they burst through the front door. "Thanks for that visual, love. Very effective."

  "Why?" Carly asked. "Why did he have photographs of Audrey's gown?"

  "We can't be sure," J. R. replied. "But since he was in the paper today announcing his big plus-size clothing line, I have my guesses."

  "What a slime!"

  "Kat made friends with the receptionist while they were there. A young girl named Billie. And she went in and deleted the photos from his desktop. But Audrey says there's no telling if there are other copies out there. Maybe he emailed the photos to someone, and he could retrieve them from his sent mail."

  "Or he could have backed up his hard drive," Devon suggested.

  "Right. But she took the only shot she could."

  "What a slime!"

  J. R. grinned. "Easy there."

  "I can't help it. That just makes me so angry. Audrey works so hard, and she's so talented."

  "No argument here."

  "Is she all right? Do I need to call her?"

  "Sweetie, you'll see her in an hour."

  Carly's expression deflated. "I can't believe it's your last night."

  "I know," Devon answered softly. "C'mere."

  She took two long steps toward Devon's chair and melted into his embrace. "I need more time," she whimpered into his shoulder.

  "I know."

  "Look, maybe you two would rather spend tonight alone," J. R. suggested. "I think everyone would understand if you didn't want to socialize tonight."

  "No, we're going," Carly said.

  "We might just bail early."

  "I'm going to head over there now," he told them. "You two follow when you're ready."

  J. R. hardly remembered the ride over to Sherilyn and Andy's house once he arrived. It had been a blur of disjointed thought: Devon shipping out again; Carly left behind; recollections of his big adventure with Audrey. Like that unmemorable ride, the world just kept right on turning whether he kept up or not.

  "J. R.'s here," Emma announced when he walked through the door behind her, and she touched his arm. "Devon and Carly came separately?"

  "Yeah, they're right behind me."

  Andy, Jackson, and Sean stood out on the deck, hovering over the grill like mother hens. Fee, Emma, Kat, Audrey, and Sherilyn buzzed about the kitchen, passing plates and filling bowls and setting them out in a buffet line on the counter, perfectly-synchronized gears in a well-oiled machine.

  Audrey looked up at him quickly and shot him a smile that he felt in his knees before the action drew her back in.

  "Here you go," Sherilyn said, handing over a large stainless steel spoon.

  "Where's Russell?" J. R. asked no one in particular.

  "Outside with the boys," Kat replied.

  Once out on the deck, J. R. saw Russell on the lawn below, pitching a ball that Henry chased with vigor. With fur flying and a huge red tongue dangling out of the side of his mouth, the dog raced across the yard in pursuit, and he returned to drop it at Russell's feet, looking up at him with hope.

  "Play date?" J. R. asked Andy as he stepped up beside him and watched.

  "Two peas in a pod," he answered.

  Andy tipped open the roll-top and tended to the steaks and chicken breasts sizzling on the grill. Enormous cobs of corn peeked out from husks on the other side next to large foil packages.

  "This a new grill?
" J. R. noted.

  Andy lit up. "The Aztec Premium Prestige."

  "Ah, geez," Sean muttered, and he turned around and walked into the house.

  "We've heard it a time or two," Jackson said with a grin.

  "Dual head stainless steel gas grill," Andy continued without notice, "with forty-five thousand BTU, full rotisserie, and eleven hundred square inches of cooking surface. It's the champion of excellence and precision in grilling, my friend."

  As Andy set about turning the steaks, J. R. and Jackson shared an amused glance. "Good to know," J. R. said, and he smacked Andy on the back before turning toward the house.

  "You're driving them away in herds, Drummond," Jackson commented.

  "Don't care," Andy declared, spatula firmly in hand. "This baby is worthy of a little praise."

  "Yeah, okay." And Jackson followed J. R.

  Devon and Carly stood at the counter with Audrey and Sherilyn as he walked in. J. R. patted Devon's arm on his way past. He approached Audrey at the sink and caressed her shoulder.

  "Nice to see you, Agent 99."

  She snickered as she sprinkled fresh Parmesan cheese over the top of a large bowl.

  "What is that?" he asked, leaning toward the bowl.

  "Seafood orzo," she told him. "Sherilyn taught me how to make it. Orzo with shrimp, fish, peppers, tomatoes, basil. All the good stuff."

  "Ooh, I love orzo," Carly said, peering over the counter at the bowl.

  J. R. picked up a fork from the open drawer, but Audrey pulled the huge bowl away before he could grab a bite.

  "C'mon. Just a taste. I'm starving. I didn't have lunch. I was off doing espionage with you."

  She tilted her full lips into a crooked grin. "Just a taste."

  The dish lived up to the anticipation. "This is amazing."

  "Thank you," Sherilyn said, snatching the fork from his hand. "And you can have all you like when dinner is served. Now go get yourself something to drink and tell my husband the guests of honor have arrived."

  "Do I have to?"

  Sherilyn scowled at him.

  "I won't get a word in, and I've already heard everything about the new grill."

  "Several times over," Sean called out from the other room.