“Yes, darling, the effort was well worth it,” she explained. “Yes, the orders are rolling in so we need to get a major commitment for another long dye run from Sorrenstein for the special red!”
Verna laughed. “Great, I can just see old Isaac’s face when I tell him.”
Francine continued, all business. “Tell him I’m going to make him famous, that’ll get him off his tired old butt!”
Verna chuckled. “If anything can these days that could be it. Leave it with me, darling, and well done, Francine!”
“Thanks.” Francine put the phone down as others continued to ring, one of the callers being Henrietta from the Dallas Morning News.
“Hi, Francine, this is Henrietta, how did it go?”
“Hi, it was great, Henrietta. I’m afraid I can’t talk now, things are hectic. Give me a few days and we’ll get together. What I can tell you is that we were a hit!”
“That’s great!”
“I’ll call you soon, bye.”
“Bye, Francine, way to go!”
* * * *
It had been almost a week since Francine had returned and she had still not heard a word from Gerard. Not wishing to make a nuisance of herself and certainly not to appear pushy, if indeed it had been her kiss that had turned him off, she wondered how to try and make contact, just to see if there was still some spark between them.
It was thus, during a brief lunchtime break from the hectic scene at the workshop that Francine drove over to the hospital to visit Helen. She figured that perhaps his mother would at least tell her where Gerard was and what was going on in his life.
She arrived at the hospital and made her way to the ward where Helen’s room was located. There were no nurses on the floor and so she tiptoed to the room. She knocked once, opened the door and looked inside before entering.
She stared in shock at the empty bed, new sheets on top ready for the bed to be made up. Where was Helen? Perhaps she had been released. Francine jumped as a voice behind her asked. “Can I help you?”
She turned to see a Nurse standing there.
“Yes, I was looking for Mrs. Cinclare?”
“Are you a relative?”
“Ah no, just a friend.”
The Nurse looked at her as if making up her mind. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Mrs. Cinclare passed away three days ago!”
Francine was devastated. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Was it…?”
“Another massive stroke, I’m afraid.”
Francine’s mind was in a whirl. “Did her son get to see her before…?” she left the sentence unfinished.
The Nurse gave a wistful smile. “Yes, Miss, he was at her bedside right to the end. He and his fiancée had to rush back from overseas, but yes, he made it.”
Francine found tears in her eyes, not sure if they were for Helen or for Gerard’s grief. She looked again at the empty bed before leaving. “Thank you.” was all she could manage.
“You’re welcome.” the Nurse replied before moving on down the corridor.
Francine walked back to her car, almost in a daze, her mind slowly beginning to focus. So that was why Gerard suddenly disappeared from the show, perhaps he wasn’t backing away as she had suspected. But there was Jeri, still holding his hand when he returned, according to the nurse!
She pondered what to do next and finally decided to send a sympathy card to begin with, thinking that he would only just be getting over the trauma of the funeral.
She stopped by the local drug store, bought a card and wrote it back at the workshop. Vince came in as she was putting the stamp on. She had simply addressed it to Gerard at his Cinclare Offices in Dallas.
Vince saw the sad look in her eyes. “Bad news?” he asked.
“Yes, Gerard’s mother died!”
He looked genuinely saddened. “Oh, I’m sorry, Francine, you liked her didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, will you stick it in the mail for me please?”
“Sure, no problem.”
As the afternoon wore on, Francine’s mind wandered back to what the nurse had told her back at the hospital and just the thought of sending only a sympathy card, already in the mail, seemed a bit lame. After all, if nothing else, Gerard was still at least a friend.
She quickly pulled out the yellow pages and found the number for ‘House of Cinclare’ in Dallas, took a deep breath and dialed the number.
A friendly female voice answered. “House of Cinclare, can I help you?”
“Can I speak with Mr. Cinclare, please?”
The voice at the other end suddenly changed to a softer, more confidential tone. “I’m afraid he’s not here at the moment. Can I give him a message?”
“No, that’s okay, I’m just a friend.”
Again the voice changed to an even more confidential tone. “He’s at a funeral, but he will be in the office tomorrow.”
Francine’s heart missed a beat. “Oh, of course, his mother,” she thought for a moment. “Do you know what time the funeral starts?”
“2-30 at Southwest Cemetery on Greenville Avenue.”
Francine quickly glanced at her watch. ‘In forty minutes.’ she quickly thanked the lady. “Thanks for your help.”
“Shall I tell Mr. Cinclare you called?” the woman asked.
“No, that’s okay.” Francine replied, already grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. She stopped by Vince as she was leaving. “Be back in a little while, hold the fort, okay?”
He grinned. “Don’t I always?”
“Thanks.”
She arrived at the house, parked the car, rushed inside and up to her bedroom, checked her make-up, changed clothes and rushed back to the car. Within minutes she was on the freeway heading for the funeral.
Francine parked the car at the rear of the parking lot of the cemetery and headed on foot towards what looked like a well-attended funeral party at a newly-prepared graveside in the memorial park.
She approached tentatively, still wondering if she should even be there, watching the proceedings from behind some trees about forty yards away. She could hear the muffled sound of the Preacher giving the eulogy in front of a tasteful canopy underneath which the coffin could be seen.
A deeply sad feeling in her heart when she thought of the dead woman’s last words to her, she finally focused on Gerard, standing at the graveside, Jeri as ever at his side, holding his hand, both dressed immaculately in black as were the other mourners.
Gerard looked very tense, white-faced and even at a distance, Francine could see that Jeri was openly weeping, racked with grief. Just at that moment, as Francine watched from her concealed viewing point, Gerard put his arm around Jeri’s shoulders, hugged her and kissed her fondly on the side of the forehead. Spontaneous though it was, the effect of this show of affection had a startling effect on Francine.
Suddenly, she seemed to be the intruder, one who had incorrectly presumed that a simple kiss back on a beach on the Riviera could actually mean something.
‘You’re such a fool, Francine!’ she told herself as she quietly made her way back to her car and drove away. In her rear view mirror, she could still see Gerard back at the graveside, a protective arm still around Jeri’s shoulders.
So much for the late Helen’s misguided comments that Gerard was interested in her. Could it be that her own vanity was still driving her on under the mistaken assumption that there could still be that hidden spark somewhere in the background. Now was the time to back off and concentrate on more important matters Francine told herself as she headed back to the workshop.
CHAPTER 35
The moment she walked back through the door, Vince was waiting for her, a subtle smile on his face.
“Okay, what is it?” she asked.
“Check your desk!” he replied still smiling. “I’m saying nothing!”
She walked into her office and there on the desk was a beautiful display of flowers with a card attached. For a second her heart soared that the flowers coul
d be from Gerard, her anxious mind already having erased the scene back at the cemetery. She need not have been so excited as she opened the card. The flowers were from Roger with a note that read, ‘Welcome back, I missed you, let’s talk!’
She turned to see Vince standing there in the doorway watching her. With great poise, she tore up the card and dumped the flowers face down in the waste basket.
“Atta girl!” Vince chuckled before disappearing to re-join the hive of activity of constantly ringing phones in the workshop.
‘Just who does he think he is?’ she fumed. ‘Ugh!’ she shuddered involuntarily just as the phone on her desk started to ring.
“Classique Fashions, can I help you?” she asked. A familiar male voice came on the line, somewhat hesitantly.
“Francie, this is Steve!”
All of a sudden, her mind went into an involuntary defensive mode. She took a second to compose herself. “Hi, Steve, how’s it going?” the question had a double meaning and Steve picked up on it immediately.
“That’s what I wanted to talk about. Do you have a minute?”
‘No, I don’t have a second!’ she wanted to scream, but with great restraint she replied. “Just a couple of minutes, but I can call you back tonight if you’ll give me a number?”
He still sounded nervous. “No, that’s okay, I just wanted to let you know I’m in therapy and it seems to be working.”
All of a sudden she felt nervous. “How long have you been clean, Steve?”
There was a pause at the other end before he replied. “It’s over two weeks now!”
“Well, that’s a start,” she tried to sound upbeat. “But it’s still too soon for me, Steve. Can we talk again in another week or so before we move to the next stage?”
“Yeah, that’s okay,” there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Look, Francie, hang on a second, there’s someone here who would like a quick word.”
“Okay, I’m listening?”
“Hang on,” he replied. “I’m putting Ruby on the line.”
‘Ruby? Who on earth could that be?’ she mused as a female voice came on the line.
“Miss Dubois?”
“Yes, hello, is this Ruby?”
“Yes, ma’am, Ruby Davidson, I’m Steve’s counselor at the Drug Therapy Group attached to St Anthony’s Hospital here in Dallas. Steve told me the arrangement that you had made with him and I just wanted to let you know he’s made a good start at getting things back on track.”
Francine’s suspicious mind was already thinking. ‘Yeah, right, probably Ruby Diamond, some bimbo he picked up in a bar, slipped her ten bucks to make the call!’ she tried to sound as businesslike as possible. “That’s very good news, Ruby. I’m sure you won’t mind my checking out your story a little though. Would you object to giving me the name of your superior at the Drug Therapy Group?”
“But of course,” she replied. “I can’t say I blame you. My boss is Doctor John Kingsley and his number is 555-6829. Please feel free to give him a call any time. It was nice talking to you, Miss Dubois. Hang on, I’ll put Steve back on the line.”
“That’s fine, goodbye, Ruby.”
Steve came back on the line. He managed a brief chuckle. “Nobody could ever say you weren’t the protective mom, Francie. I’ll call you back in a week or so, Bye.”
“Bye, Steve,” she replied. “Hang in there!”
“I will, bye.”
Francine put the phone down, full of mixed emotions. Could it be for real? Had Steve finally started on the path to rehabilitation? But first things first. She picked up the phone and dialed the number that Ruby had given her. Immediately, a female voice answered. “St. Anthony’s Hospital. Which department, please?”
“I’d like to speak to Dr. Kingsley in the Drug Therapy Group, please?”
“Just a moment, I’ll connect you.”
‘So, it is for real!’ Francine muttered to herself just as another female voice came on the line.
“Drug Therapy Group, this is Glenda, how can I help you?”
All of a sudden, Francine became tongue-tied. What to say? How to say it? She began by picking her words slowly. “Good afternoon, I’m calling at the suggestion of one of your counselors, her name is Ruby?”
“Ruby Davidson? How can we help you, ma’am?”
“I know you can’t divulge information on your patients,” Francine began, now wishing that she hadn’t even made the call. “It was just that Ruby asked me to feel free to check her out since she’s been helping my ex-husband in therapy?”
Glenda was very helpful. “Oh, yes, Ruby has been with us for a while, she’s extremely good at her job. I’d let you talk with Dr.
Kingsley, but he’s in New Orleans at the moment at a drug prevention conference.”
All of a sudden, Francine couldn’t wait to get off the phone. “No, please don’t bother, Glenda, thank you so much for the information."
“My pleasure, goodbye.”
“Bye.” Francine put the phone down as Vince popped into her office. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the pensive look on her face. “Everything okay, Princess?”
“Yeah, fine,” she turned to him, the one confidant she always felt comfortable with, pointing vacantly at the phone. “That was Steve on the phone.”
“Uh, oh!” he replied. “What gives?”
“He’s actually on the wagon, Vince!”
A sudden look of mistrust crossed his face. “You sure?”
She nodded her head. “That’s what amazes me. He even had his therapist talk with me on the phone confirming his progress!”
He still looked skeptical. “Therapist?”
“Yes, I just checked her out!”
“It’s a she then?”
“Looks like it and she’s legit!”
“So, what do you do now?”
“I told him to call me back in a week if he’s still clean.”
“Smart move, and then what?” As usual, Vince was so in sync with what she was thinking.
“I guess I’m faced with a decision.”
“Decision?”
“Yes, do I let him see Alison, or wait a bit longer?”
“Hmm, tough one. Rather you than me, Princess!”
“Exactly!”
CHAPTER 36
On the way home that night, Francine was still wrestling with the problem of how to discuss with Alison the prospect that her father could be coming back into their lives, no matter how briefly.
Since Steve had moved out, the child had never even mentioned him or stated that she missed him. It was as if she had totally erased him from her mind. This was going to take some delicate handling by Francine, assuming that Steve hung in there and finally managed to beat his demons.
Alison was reaching such an impressionable age that to talk her into re-accepting Steve, on however fleeting a basis, could be totally traumatic for the child if somewhere down the road he fell off the wagon yet again.
She sat back in her chair, somewhat confused at the irony surrounding the men in her life. The two that were trying to get close to her, Steve and Roger, she was totally ambivalent about, and the one that she still had strong, haunting feelings for, was apparently not interested.
Thankfully, she had her job to keep her occupied, as evidenced by the phone ringing yet again, this time a call from Huntingtons, a large retail chain in the UK. Their Buyer, who must have been working late into the evening with the time difference, was anxious to talk to Francine about orders and an exclusive showing of the ‘Classique’ line in their main Oxford Street Salon in London.
Francine thanked her for the call, told her she would get back with her quickly after she checked her schedule and sat back after putting the phone down. Suddenly, the men in her life took a back seat. This was London! A show of her own with chances of a major endorsement from a top quality retail chain in England. She walked out into the workshop, a huge smile on her face. Vince was just finishing a phone call, his in-built rad
ar sensing her excitement. He put the phone down. “What, what?” he asked.
She then explained the call from London.
* * * *
With a further week of frenetic activity behind her, Francine was feeling physically and emotionally drained, but equally elated that things were still going so well businesswise.
After repeatedly refusing to return Roger’s calls, she had scarcely had time to even think of Gerard, although if she had to admit it, each night before finally falling into an exhausted sleep, her mind always wandered back to what he was doing and the fact that neither of them had even exchanged as much as a single word since he had left Monte Carlo in such a hurry.
She was quite clear in her mind why she hadn’t called him, after what she had seen at the funeral, but she still wondered why he hadn’t taken the trouble to call her, even if only to just say hello, or to comment on her success on the Riviera.
On the business front, things had gone extremely well, orders were coming in at a healthy rate and she was totally gratified that the ever faithful Stella had reserved manufacturing capacity for her and was already in top gear turning out ‘Classique’ creations at a steadily increasing level with new staff being taken on daily.
After a superb write-up from Henrietta, Francine was now also the talk of the Dallas fashion scene with countless invitations to visit the private functions and social events only attended by the wealthy ‘movers’ and ‘shakers’ in the Dallas and Fort Worth Communities.
Not being a social butterfly, she had delegated Vince as her able replacement and he was having the time of his life while Francine was still desperately trying to balance the duties of mother and newly crowned ‘fashion queen’, all at the same time.
She was also excited that she had now clinched the deal with Huntingtons and both she, Vince and the models, including Karen, had now been contracted for an all-expense paid trip to London for the big event with the retail store.
She had designed some special new items for the show and as usual, Vince was pursuing all aspects of initial preparation as only he knew how.
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