“They’re the best. Just the right amount of spice. Then again, there can never be too much spice.” He ogled Kelly from head to stiletto, giving her the willies. Mister Producer might have had too much champagne.
“I believe I saw a waiter with mushrooms over there,” Frankie pointed into the study, where heavy wooden sliding doors had been opened for guests to mingle in the comfort of floor-to-ceiling bookcases and deep-cushioned sofas.
Hugh gave a nod and headed off in search of his food obsession.
Kelly smiled her appreciation to her cousin as a waiter approached them with a tray of mini quiches. Each of them reached for a quiche just as raised voices caught their attention from the other end of the living room beside the grand piano. Their heads swiveled to the commotion.
“Catfight?” Frankie asked with too much excitement.
“Frankie!” Kelly admonished.
“No, I think he’s right, Kell. Do you know who those two women are? The one in the silver dress is Diana Delacourte, and the other is Wendy Johnson.”
Kelly studied the woman. Liv was right. Wendy Johnson looked different from the day she’d come into the boutique with her dresses for consignment. Her chestnut brown hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, and instead of active wear, she was wearing a matte gown with ruffled self-tie sleeves in a festive emerald-green color.
Kelly’s gaze moved to Diana, who wore a silvery sequin . . . prom gown . . . oh, no, no, no. That was one of the dresses Wendy had consigned at the boutique. Kelly’s stomach lurched. Wendy had to have recognized her dress.
“What kind of relationship do they have on the show?” Kelly dreaded the answer.
“Not a good one. I heard Wendy got Diana kicked off the show.” Liv didn’t look away from the two ladies.
“Didn’t Wendy post photos of Diana at a nightclub having a meltdown?” Frankie asked.
“She did. She made Diana out to be a lush of a housewife on the prowl for younger men. Then the next thing you know, topless photos of Diana are popping up.”
Kelly cringed.
“You look lovely in my old dress. A cast-off wearing a cast-off. How fitting,” Wendy said in a louder tone, resulting in Diana squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.
“Forget quiche. We need popcorn.” Frankie popped the last bite of his appetizer into his mouth and chewed.
“What I find remarkable is you’re able to fit into my dress.” Wendy gave a haughty laugh before taking a sip of her champagne.
“I’ve made the conscious decision to live an environmentally friendly lifestyle. Recycling clothing is one of many things we can do to help save our planet. And it’s the basis of my upcoming book.” Diana adjusted the wrap around her shoulders and then propped her hands on her hips. Her ashy blond hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and fringed bangs swept her elegantly shaped brows.
“Ha! The only lifestyle you’re living is that of a pauper!”
Diana’s face reddened, and her lips twisted. “I don’t have to take this from you, a sad drunk who’s still hanging onto a sham of a marriage for ratings.” Diana dropped her hands from her hips and stormed past Wendy, heading toward Kelly.
Oh, boy.
Diana moved at warp speed but came to a screeching halt when she arrived in front of Kelly. A flicker of recognition flashed in her angry, green eyes, and her nostrils flared.
“I know who you are! Your photo was in the newspaper. You own the consignment shop where I bought this!” Diana gestured to the gown she wore. While it looked less posh the other day on a hanger, on the former reality TV star it looked expensive and sexy.
Kelly fumbled for words. The local newspaper had done a feature on Kelly and the boutique a week earlier to promote the changes to the business and encourage shoppers to stop in. “I . . . I do own the Lucky Cove Resale Boutique.”
“How on earth could your salesgirl sell me this dress knowing it came from her?” Diana made a grand gesture of turning and pointing at Wendy before she turned back to Kelly but didn’t keep her voice down. “What kind of business are you running? It doesn’t matter because, mark my word, you will regret what you did. Mark. My. Words.” Diana breezed past Kelly, and the sound of her heels clicking on the entry hall’s marble floor quickened and then soon disappeared.
“Wow!” Frankie grabbed a shrimp from a passing tray.
“I can’t believe that just happened. Are you okay?” Liv asked.
“Not sure.” Kelly wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there.
All the eyes that had watched the blowup between Wendy and Diana were now focused on her, and she heard whispers. So much for handing out business cards.
“Brace yourself,” Liv warned.
“What? Why? Oh . . .” Kelly saw the reason for Liv’s warning.
Summer was making a beeline for her.
“I can explain,” Kelly said to her aunt as she hardened herself for an onslaught of wrath.
Summer clasped her hands together and smiled. “Thank you! Thank you!” She reached out and pulled Kelly in for a hug.
“What?” Kelly, Liv, and Frankie said in unison.
Summer let go of her niece and kept her voice low. “Hugh is going to eat all of this up. I couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events. I’m going to be a shoo-in. And it’s all because of your little thrift store.” Summer squealed before grabbing Kelly into another hug.
Over Summer’s shoulder, Kelly gave Liv and Frankie a confused look. She wasn’t used to gratitude from Summer and didn’t understand how a hostess could be happy about a loud argument in the middle of her party.
“I’m happy to help,” Kelly said absently as her mind raced with the threat Diana had leveled on her and her business. Was the woman really capable of dragging Kelly and the boutique through the mud? The boutique was still too fragile to weather another storm like it had last month. Kelly was able to keep the store open, but she wasn’t sure if she could do it again because money was even tighter now after the upgrades she’d made to the boutique and the upstairs apartment.
Summer released Kelly and ran a hand over her dress to smooth it. “I have to find Hugh.” She spun around and dashed off in search of the producer.
Kelly looked at her cousin and her friend. “You heard what Diana said. Do you think I should be worried?”
“Probably not. She was embarrassed and humiliated and blowing off steam.” Liv set her empty glass on a passing tray. “I wouldn’t worry too much.”
“Yeah, she’s right. This will all blow over. Come on, let’s find the buffet and get some real food.” Frankie turned and headed toward the dining room.
Liv linked arms with Kelly. “Don’t fret. Look, everyone has gone back to enjoying themselves. And we should too.”
Kelly allowed Liv to lead her to the dining room, though she didn’t have much of an appetite. Would there ever come a day when she wasn’t worrying about the financial survival of the boutique?
Chapter Three
Sunday morning began like every other Sunday morning since Kelly had resettled back in Lucky Cove, except for two things. First, Kelly woke an hour earlier, and second, she headed out for a run. She’d wanted to start her Sundays like that since her move back home. But she’d never gotten around to it. Instead, she slept in and started her day in a leisurely fashion because the boutique didn’t open until noon.
If she had gotten herself out of bed early in the previous weeks, then she wouldn’t have had to struggle to get herself out of her shapewear last night. On her way out of the bedroom, she eyed the torture device that had kept all her jiggly parts right and tight in her dress.
She also knew that stepping away from pastries also kept all her parts from becoming jiggly. Her new plan was to indulge less and run more.
After filling Howard’s bowl, she gave him a quick pat on the head. He didn’t have to worry about his
figure. He gave a soft meow and then chowed down. She’d inherited the orange cat along with the boutique and apartment. A package deal, apparently. The cat was slow to warm up to her, but they’d made progress since her first day in her new home. Now he slept on the bed with her and even curled up to her on the sofa. With Howard fed and his water bowl refreshed, she dashed out to the cold morning for her first run in weeks. She set the GPS on her smartwatch and took off for a two-mile run. She eventually wanted to do three miles but was starting off conservatively.
On the loop back home, she popped into Doug’s Variety Store for a large Holly Jolly coffee with low-fat milk. She frowned when she passed on the cream, but her sadness was quickly replaced with an image of a leopard-print pencil skirt she had hanging in her closet. It was more than a little tight at the moment. Visualization was a strong motivating tool. Or at least she’d been told.
Standing at the counter waiting for her coffee, she heard snippets of conversation. The topic was last night’s party and, in particular, the scene between Wendy and Diana that had played out in front of everyone.
There was that much fascination with the glamorous housewives?
“Morning, Kell.” Gabe Donovan approached from the front door. Off duty, Gabe was dressed in his distressed leather jacket and baggy jeans. That was how she was used to seeing Pepper’s son. She was still adjusting to his police uniform, which made him look so grown up and responsible, far from the goofball she’d grown up with. “I guess I missed quite a show last night.”
Kelly’s head tilted sideways. “Not you too? Is everyone talking about the argument between what’s her name and the other what’s her name?”
“Wendy Johnson and Diana Delacourte.”
Kelly’s mouth gaped open. “How do you know their names? You’re a closet LIL watcher, aren’t you?”
A hint of redness tinged Gabe’s full cheeks, and his gaze cast downward for a nanosecond. “I’ve heard people say their names.”
Kelly nodded. “Ah ha, and like a good cop, you remembered the names.”
“Exactly.”
“What a load of baloney!” She slapped him on the shoulder.
“Assaulting an officer?”
“You’re not on duty. Besides, I’ve known you since we were in preschool, and I’m exempt from whatever law you’re referring to.” She took a drink of her coffee, and it slid down her throat, warming her and giving her a little kick start of the energy her run had drained out of her. Pulling the cup from her lips, she glanced at the wall clock. Shoot. She had to get back to her apartment to shower and dress for work.
“Be sure to fill my mom in on every detail. She loves the show.”
“Like mother, like son?”
“Don’t you have to open the store soon?”
“Yes, I do, and I’m heading back now. Are you working today?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kelly feigned insult. “Never call me ma’am again, or I’ll have no choice but to share that photo of you on April Fool’s Day. Remember?”
“Not cool, Kell.”
“Neither is calling me ma’am.”
“I thought you destroyed it.”
Kelly half-shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Want to risk it?” She smiled triumphantly and spun around to leave the store. She probably shouldn’t have brought up the photo of a very awkward thirteen-year-old Gabe, but she couldn’t resist. She knew it would eat at him all day. She sipped her coffee. Yeah, it was a little cruel, but wasn’t that what lifetime friends were for? A little torture?
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t see the woman approaching and bumped right into her. After brief muttering from both of them, Kelly pulled back and recognized the woman she’d crashed into. Tracy Sachs, the powerhouse behind LIL.
New York women were known for their love of black clothes, and Tracy Sachs was no different. From her newsboy hat to her cropped silvery-gray hair to the scarf tucked into the neckline of her wool wrap coat to the trousers that grazed her sleek boots, she was dressed all in black. It was a stark contrast to her porcelain-skinned, heart-shaped face, which at the moment was touched with a little redness from the fierce cold wind; and her frowning, mulberry-colored lips.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
“No, you weren’t.” Tracy’s frown deepened into a scowl as she inspected her coat for any damage from Kelly’s coffee.
Kelly checked her coffee cup’s lid. All secure.
Tracy lifted her head, and recognition flashed in her pale blue eyes.
“I know you. You were at Ralph’s party. You’re his niece who owns the consignment shop.” Tracy’s scowl turned into a smile as she shifted her Celine bag in her hands.
Kelly’s heart did a little pitter-patter at the sight of the statement bag. What she’d give to get one of those on consignment.
“I wish I’d had cameras there last night because that scene between Wendy and Diana was awesome. Then Diana’s run-in with you. Talk about good TV.”
“I guess. I heard Wendy wrote a nasty blog about Diana, and then some photos of Diana appeared. Why would Wendy do that?” Kelly had reservations about Summer getting caught up in the den of barracudas who seemed to take pleasure in bringing women down just so they could get an extra fifteen minutes of fame. Was that the role model Summer wanted to show Juniper?
Tracy gave a throaty laugh. “Reality TV isn’t pretty. But its ratings are amazing.” She pulled out her cell phone from her coat pocket and checked for messages or e-mails. Kelly wasn’t sure what she was doing with the device; what she was certain of was that their conversation was less important than the phone. Tracy shoved the phone back in her pocket as concern clouded her eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Kelly asked.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of Diana since she stormed out of the party last night, and she hasn’t gotten back to me. It’s not like her to ignore my calls, especially since she’s now desperate to get back on the show.”
“Do you think she’s in trouble? She was angry when she left Uncle Ralph’s party.”
Tracy shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m stressing about this. Diana is probably sleeping off her hangover. I’m sure she consoled herself with a bottle of her favorite alcohol. Not sure what she’s drinking these days.”
“That’s terrible.” Even though Diana had lashed out at Kelly the night before, she felt sorry for the woman.
From what she’d heard, Diana had been in a bad marriage, was betrayed by her husband, was humiliated by a friend, and was then tossed off the show. It seemed like Diana’s world had come crashing down around her very much like Kelly’s world had a few months ago. The difference was that Kelly had a close-knit group of friends to help her regain her footing. It sounded like Diana didn’t have a safety net.
Tracy shook her head. “No, what’s terrible is what will happen to you when Diana finally sobers up. If you think the blog post Wendy wrote was nasty, wait until you see what Diana does to you and your little shop after being embarrassed like she was last night.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You sold her Wendy’s old dress. So, knowing Diana as I do, what happened last night was all your fault. You know the old saying about any publicity is good publicity? Well, it won’t be like that for you when Diana is finished with you. She will drag you and your shop through the mud.”
Kelly’s stomach rolled, and she got a little light-headed. Her business, her financial survival was fragile to begin with, and after the fiasco with psychics and rumors of haunted merchandise just weeks before Halloween, she didn’t think the Lucky Cove Resale Boutique could weather another assault.
“Is there anything I can do to appease Diana? Maybe if I talk to her,” Kelly said.
Tracy pursed her lips as she shook her head. “Not a good idea.”
�
��Surely I can make her see there was no intention to embarrass her. We had no idea she’d be wearing the dress to a party where Wendy was also in attendance.”
“You are so naïve, aren’t you? Refreshing, really. Look, Diana only cares about herself and how she looks to her fans.”
“She can’t be all that bad. I’m sure I can persuade her.” Kelly had worked with some of the most aggressive, ambitious women Seventh Avenue had to offer, from interns right up to the corporate floor. She could handle Diana. However, she hadn’t been able to handle the all-powerful Serena Dawson when she’d fired Kelly in front of all of her coworkers after a series of events that Serena blamed her for but that had been out of Kelly’s hands.
“Suit yourself. It’s your funeral. If you’ll excuse me, I really need a coffee and to get going into the city.” Tracy stepped forward, her attention focused on the counter, where Doug took coffee orders.
“Wait, Tracy, I need something.”
Tracy gave a cool look over her shoulder that showed she wasn’t interested in giving Kelly anything. “What?”
“Diana’s address.” Kelly chewed on her lower lip.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go see her. You’ll only make things worse.”
“Well, then it’ll be on me. But I have to try to reason with her. My business is at stake. You can understand, right?”
In one quick motion, Tracy sighed, rolled her eyes, and whipped out her cell phone. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Thank you!”
Tracy stopped scrolling on her phone. “If I give you Diana’s address, I will need something in return.”
“Like what? I don’t have money.”
“I don’t need money. What I need is information. Besides Diana and Wendy, do you have any other Long Island Ladies pawning their designer clothes on the side?”
“No. Only them.”
Tracy looked disappointed. “Too bad. However, in exchange for me giving you this address, I expect you will let me know if anyone else from my show comes into your shop.”
“Why?”
Silenced in Sequins Page 3
