by Francis Ray
“But I can go into most stores and find clothes. Many of the women I saw this afternoon couldn’t. Realizing that made me stop feeling sorry for myself,” she told him. “I did a bit of research afterward and know that I can create clothes that will make women feel confident and fashionable regardless of their size.”
“You’ll need financing. You want a partner?”
“You want to be a partner?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“A silent one since I know nothing about women’s fashion. One thing. We sign a contract. We can agree verbally tonight,” he said. “In the morning we can go to my office and I’ll draw up a formal contract.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
She blinked, swallowed. “Deal.”
“Seems I was fortuitous.” Still holding her hand, he led her into the kitchen. “These are for you.”
“They’re beautiful.” She held the exotic bouquet of tropical flowers to her chest. “Thank you.”
“Not as beautiful as you are.” His arms circled her waist again. “I’m really proud of you. Let’s go celebrate.”
“Where?”
“Anyplace you like,” he told her, sure he had a good idea where she’d want to go.
“All right. Callahan’s.”
He frowned. He thought she’d want to go to Radcliffe’s. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. This time I’m walking away the winner at pool.”
“You were always a winner.”
“I didn’t feel like it until now.” Moving away, she opened a cabinet door, removed a tall vase, and filled it with water. “It really feels good to know where I’m going, what I want.” She began arranging the flowers. “I can move out of here and get out of your hair. I’ll be my own woman.”
Busy arranging the flowers, she didn’t see the pain flash across Alex’s face.
* * *
Dianne kept throwing anxious glances at Alex. He’d been quiet on the short walk to Callahan’s. She didn’t know what had changed between them. One moment he’d been happy for her success, the next silent, almost withdrawn. It couldn’t be where they were going; he loved Callahan’s. His best friend owned the bar, and his other best friend often dropped by. She liked the loud, friendly bar as well.
It was nice being in a place where you could relax, a place with friends, good friends. She’d never had that before. Being with Alex, loving him had given her so much. And this time, if someone asked what she did, she wouldn’t embarrass him. She’d be able to say she was a fashion designer.
He reached for the door. She stopped him with a tentative touch on his arm. “We don’t have to go.”
He looked down at her, but the smile she was so used to seeing was gone. “No. It’s what you want.”
She stared up into his strong handsome face. He’d always given her what she wanted. To her shame she’d greedily taken.
“Excuse me,” a man said behind them.
His mouth tight, Alex released the door handle and stepped aside. “What is it, Dianne?”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?” he asked, raking a hand over his hair.
She might not be a lawyer, but she knew when someone was evading the issue, when he was annoyed. She’d grown up with parents who were both. “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”
He blew out a breath. “Look, Dianne, I’ve had a long day.”
She stuck her hands in her pockets of her slacks, unconsciously hunching her shoulders. “That’s what my parents always said when they didn’t want to be bothered with me.”
“What?”
She glanced away. She knew he’d heard her and she wasn’t about to repeat the humiliating statement.
“You’re comparing me to them?”
The way he spat out them put her on guard. She finally looked at him. She’d seen Alex angry, but this was different. In a heartbeat she realized why. She’d hurt him. She quickly closed the distance separating them. “No, never. Never,” she repeated, catching his arm when he remained stiff. It was like holding warm steel.
“This is turning out all wrong. I’d planned to come here tonight and let C. J. and the others know I wasn’t unemployed, that I was starting a design house.” Her hand fell, but she kept her gaze on him. “I didn’t want you ashamed of me.”
“You think I’m ashamed of you?” he shouted, with no less anger than before. “Where did you get a crazy idea like that? I’d do anything for you.”
Her smile wobbled. “Just like always, you’re there for me. I wanted you to be proud of me. Show your friends that you weren’t dating a loser.” She glanced away. “We can leave now.”
“I ruined that for you. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she told him, meaning it. “Without you, there’s no telling where I’d be. My parents certainly don’t care. I would have been too ashamed to call Catherine. I had no one until you.”
“Then why are you in such a rush to leave?” He took her arms. “To my knowledge, you haven’t drawn a single design, yet you’re already planning to leave me.”
She felt his hands tighten when he said leave me, saw his beautiful black eyes darken with misery even in the dim light. He deeply, truly cared about her. For once, she’d done something right. “It wasn’t you I wanted to leave, it was my dependence on you. I want to stand on my own feet, support myself the way Catherine does, the way your mother does. That’s what I meant. I can’t imagine not having you in my life. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise.”
“Dianne.” He jerked her to him, his mouth finding hers. The kiss was healing and boldly erotic.
“Let’s go home,” she breathed when she finally lifted her head.
“Not on your life. You’re having your moment.” Grinning broadly, Alex turned with Dianne to see Summer standing next to Sin by the front door of Callahan’s.
Summer sighed and straightened. “Makeup sex would have been better.”
“Get lost before you embarrass Dianne,” Alex ordered, but he was smiling.
By his side, Dianne grinned and leaned more fully against Alex. “Postponed, not taken off the agenda.”
Alex laughed and pulled Dianne to him for a quick kiss; then they simply smiled at each other.
“Alex picked a winner.” Sin grinned. “And he managed to pull his foot out of his mouth.”
“And they’re having makeup sex,” Summer murmured.
Sin stared at Summer, a mischievous grin on his devilishly handsome face. “Going through a dry spell?”
Summer’s eyes narrowed in her beautiful sculptured face. “Mention what I said in any way, shape, or fashion ever and you’ll never get a table at Radcliffe’s again.” Turning, she went back into the bar.
“Move out of the way, Sin,” Alex told him jovially. “We have some celebrating to do.”
Sin was already opening the door, searching for Summer.
* * *
In the back booth of the bar, Alex, Dianne, and Summer sat on one side, and Sin and C. J. on the other. In front of them was beer for the men and red wine for the women. Alex tapped his longneck with his key ring. “Dianne has an announcement she wants to make.”
Dianne smiled, moistened her lips. “It might be a bit early, but I wanted to share with you my new venture, clothing designs for full-figured women. Clothes are more than covering, they tell you about the wearer, give a woman confidence, style. Every woman deserves that.”
Summer applauded. “My best friend in college had a hellish time finding clothes that didn’t look like shapeless sacks. Most didn’t have a good design. When you have your first show, let me know so I can tell her.”
“I will.” Dianne glanced at Alex. “Alex is going to be my partner.”
“Behind-the-scenes partner,” Alex rushed to say when Sin and C. J. grinned.
“To Dianne and Alex.” Summer lifted her glass. “And boundless success.”
“To Dianne and Alex, and boundless success,” Sin and C.
J. repeated.
“Thank you, all of you,” Dianne said, her hands wrapped around her wineglass. “All I have is an idea, but I feel so strongly about it.”
“This bar was an idea for my uncle,” C. J. said.
“So was Radcliffe’s,” Summer said, sipping her wine.
“Going with your gut takes courage.” Sin picked up his bottle and tipped the top toward Dianne. “My grandfather always said a lot of people miss tomorrow by looking back at yesterday.”
“That’s what I was doing, probably would have kept doing if not for Alex,” Dianne told then, briefly placing her head on his shoulder.
Summer lifted her glass and sipped. “That’s our Alex, steady and strong.”
Alex eyed the glass in Summer’s hand. “You’re being very philosophical after only one glass of wine. Any particular reason?”
“I received my tenth request to be a bridesmaid today.” She finished off the glass. “Kara, my top chef.”
“So that’s why you dropped by here before the evening crowd,” C. J. noted.
“I have competent staff,” Summer said.
“But you like hands-on,” Sin put in.
“Summer’s staff is competent. She can take a bit of time off.” Dianne placed her hand on the other woman’s arm. “Are you up for a game of pool?”
“Let’s go,” Summer said, placing her glass on the table.
Alex scooted out and stood. “I’ll go rack them for you.”
“We’ll manage,” Dianne said and walked away with Summer.
Sin came to his feet, and so did C. J. “It’s hard to say which one is the worse player.”
C. J. folded his muscled arms across his chest. “That won’t matter.”
“Summer needs to vent whatever is bothering her, and cracking a pool ball is better than alcohol.” Worried, Alex put his hands on his hips.
“She said something outside…” Sin’s voice trailed off.
“What?” Alex asked.
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Hands in the pockets of his slacks, Sin went to the pool area and leaned against the wall to watch the women play.
“Get lost, Sin.” Summer racked up the balls.
He didn’t move. “With my privileged information, isn’t it best if you know where I am?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You always have an answer, don’t you?”
“I thought so until a little while ago.”
Dianne glanced between the two of them. “Women only.”
Sin came to his full height of six foot three. “You know I’ll figure it out.”
“Until then, you know the way to the bar.” Summer chalked her stick and hit the cue ball. Other balls scattered and dropped into the side pocket. When she looked up, Sin was gone.
“You’re good. I probably won’t give you much of a game.” Dianne eyed the ball.
“I’m usually terrible. You gave me the time I needed, and a target to hit.” Summer glanced toward the bar.
Dianne’s gaze followed. “Better than Sin’s head.”
“That’s debatable,” Summer said, her mouth curving into a natural smile.
Dianne powered her cue. “I’ve never been a bridesmaid, not even close as far as I know.”
Summer leaned on her stick. “Believe me, it loses its luster after the third or fourth time. You begin to wonder…” Her voice trailed off.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dianne finished.
“Alex’s right, I’m not the philosophical type. I haven’t had time. After I lost my parents, all I could think of was opening the restaurant to carry on their dream.” Summer shoved a hand through her long black hair. “My manager just learned today that she’s expecting. She and her husband want me to be the baby’s godmother.”
Dianne looked toward the bar. Alex, on a bar stool, smiled and saluted her with his beer bottle. She blew him a kiss. “Some of us have to wait longer to grab the brass ring, but that just means we’ll appreciate it more.”
“Alex never dated much. C. J. gets around, but Sin’s little black book is probably the size of a phone book.” Summer faced away from the bar. “I’ve spent so much time making the restaurant a success, I wonder if there’s room for anything else.”
“From the way men practically drool over you, I’d say you have a few more years before we have to put you in a rocking chair.” Bending, Dianne hit the cue ball and missed every ball on the table. She straightened and made a face.
“That’s just like my life: missing everything and not seeing what was in front of me. Don’t be like me or like the people Sin’s grandfather talked about. You’ll make a great godmother, an attentive bridesmaid, and when your time comes to walk down that aisle as the bride, it will be right because you won’t be able to help yourself. Nor will you settle for anything less.”
“You love him,” Summer said softly.
“With all my heart.” Dianne’s voice trembled, firmed. “I want to be worthy of him, but first I have to be worthy of myself. That means having the kind of confidence in myself that you have. And please don’t tell him.”
“I won’t.”
“Thank you. Now take your shot.”
Chapter 12
Dianne woke up the next morning with a definitive plan. First, make love with Alex; second, send him off with a smoldering kiss after breakfast; then get to work on her designs. By nine she was at the kitchen table with a sketch pad she’d picked up from a drugstore on the way back from Callahan’s.
She knew what she wanted to begin with: simple lines and soft material, perhaps jersey to drape over the body and cottons for easy care. For colors she wanted a hint of pale blush with a tinge of beige, white, and black.
As she worked on the basics of her designs for most of the day she realized she had the ideas, but she needed help in making them come to life. Tapping the pen on the sketch of an A-line dress, she leaned back in the chair and gazed out the window. Her grandfather had designers who worked by themselves or, when necessary, as a team.
Getting up, she went to her hobo bag in the master bedroom, dumped the contents, and located the slip of paper she’d hastily written Greg Dickerson’s phone number on. Taking a seat on the bed, she gazed at the number.
Would he even consider coming to work with her? He’d started with the company after she’d worked with the design team. He’d only seen her as a model. Then, too, if he agreed, they wouldn’t be able to pay him his usual salary at first. He’d have to understand that, but perhaps he was willing to take a chance … if he hadn’t already found a job.
She picked up the phone and dialed. It was answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Greg Dickerson.”
Dianne’s grip on the cell phone tightened. Too tense to remain seated, she came to her feet. “Hi, Greg. It’s Dianne.”
“Oh, hi, Dianne.”
Some of the enthusiasm left his voice. Dianne understood. He had probably been hoping the call was about a job. “Greg, I want to meet with you about a job opportunity if you’re interested.”
“A job?” His voice perked up. “You heard something while you were looking?”
“Not exactly.” She swallowed and sat back down. “I’ve decided to start my own fashion design line for women with full figures. I’d like to hire you to be on my design team.”
“Who else is on the team?” he asked.
“Just the two of us for now. I have some preliminary sketches I’d like for you to see and we can discuss things further,” she said.
“What’s the salary?” Greg asked.
Dianne twisted uneasily in her seat. “Why don’t we discuss that when you come over for dinner tonight and meet my business partner, Alex Stewart. Say around seven,” she told him, giving him the address.
“I’ll be there, but I’m not committing to anything,” he said.
“I understand. We’ll see you at seven. Good-bye, Greg.” Dianne disconnected and called Alex. “Mr. Stewart, please. Dianne Harrington calling.”
“Certainly, Ms. Harrington. Just a moment.”
”Thank you.”
“Hi, beautiful.”
Dianne went soft inside. “Hi, Alex. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“I’m going over some briefs,” he said. “How are the sketches going?”
“Great, but I think they need another eye,” she told him. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The other day while I was out looking for a job, I happened to run into Greg Dickerson, a designer of women’s wear. He was a casualty of Theo Boswell as well. I just spoke with him and invited him to dinner tonight to discuss working with me and to meet you. I hope it’s all right.”
“I told you to consider the place as yours. I’m glad to hear you’re making progress, and this time we’re having contracts.”
* * *
Alex was going to make sure that this time Dianne wasn’t screwed over. Greg Dickerson was at least sixty, balding, thin as a rail, and no more than five feet tall. “Before you look at Dianne’s designs, I’m sure you understand that she’d like you to sign an agreement that you won’t design anything similar for at least six months. If you do decide to join Dianne’s firm, you’ll have to sign a noncompete form for a year.”
“I’ll sign the agreement about the designs, but I need to see them first to see if there’s any promise in them,” Greg said, then turned to Dianne sitting next to him at the dining room table after dinner. “I don’t want to tie myself up with a firm that’s not going anyplace.”
“I understand, Greg.” Dianne came to her feet. “I’ll get the sketches.”
Alex watched her leave the room. He knew nothing about fashion design, even less about women’s clothes. He’d almost been glad she wanted to wait until Greg was there to show him her sketches. He just hoped and prayed whatever Greg’s decision, Dianne wouldn’t give up on her dream.
“Here they are.” Dianne held the sketches to her chest, then gave the pad to Greg. The designer pushed his tortoiseshell glasses up on his nose and flipped open the cover sheet.
Alex rose from his seat to stand and curve his arm around Dianne’s waist. Feeling her tremble, he kissed her forehead and waited.
