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 jewel
ry 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.”
A Black Tie Affair Page 6
