Love Redesigned

by Jenny Proctor

  She stood and walked toward me. “Of course I didn’t. But I really wanted to.”

  “The skirt isn’t even finished yet,” I argued. The dress had a skirt, but it was just simple white satin. I still needed to embellish and make it pretty.

  “But you said the bodice was done, right? Please oh please? Just one tiny peek?”

  I bit my lip. I wanted her to see it. Because I was pretty sure she was going to love it. But I was still terrified. That she trusted me to make something this big, this important to her was huge. It felt a little like I was standing in front of Heidi Klum on an episode of Project Runway. “Okay,” I finally relented. “But you can’t try it on yet. I still have to stitch the lace in place and secure the buttons up the back.”

  Paige raised her eyebrows. “Oh. I thought—”

  “We did.” I interrupted her. “We decided an open back was best. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you loved the idea of buttons, so . . .” I turned the dress form around and pulled off the sheet. “I’m hoping maybe this will work.”

  Paige’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped. “Ohhh, Dani. It’s beautiful!”

  “Do you really like it?”

  “It’s perfect.” She reached out and touched the back of the dress. “So this whole middle part is completely sheer?”

  “Right. You’ll barely see it when it’s against your skin, except for the buttons, obviously, and the little bit of lace that comes over your shoulder here and trims the opening. And then, look.” I turned the dress back around. “The same lace wraps around to the front and will continue down the skirt.”

  “All over?”

  I crossed my fingers. It was a sheath dress, per Paige’s request, so no giant full skirt walking down the aisle for her. With such a simple outline, lace all over was exactly what I was hoping for. “I really think it will be beautiful.”

  She nodded. “Oh, me too!” She reached out to hug me. “Seriously. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “I can’t wait to see it on you. There might still be a few pins on the skirt, but a few more hours of work and I should have it ready for you to try on before your Mom leaves town.”

  Paige smiled. Her mom was slightly less confident in my ability to make a wedding dress than Paige was. To have a finished product to show her would probably do a lot to relieve some of the wedding tension Paige was feeling. She got along with her Mom. Most of the time, anyway. But they’d definitely had it out over more than a few wedding details. “I’m so glad. I didn’t want to push you, but man, Mom’s been driving me crazy over this dress.”

  “She’s here through next Thursday, right?”

  “Yeah, but her flight is super early Thursday morning, so it’ll have to be on Wednesday.”

  Five days. I looked back at the dress. “I can finish in five days.”

  Paige gave me a hug, squeezing extra hard before letting me go. “Alex is stupid, Dani,” she said, her voice close to my ear. “Don’t even give him another thought.”

  Chapter Eight

  Alex

  “How long has it been?” Isaac leaned forward, stretching his arms far over his head.

  I closed out the book I was reading on my phone and looked at the clock. “Three hours,” I said. “We’ve now officially been on the airplane on the ground, twice as long as we will be in the air. If,” I added, “we ever leave the ground.” The flight crew had cited ambiguous “delays” and a backlog of planes trying to leave JFK, but three hours? I’d done a lot of flying over the years and had never waited so long before takeoff.

  Isaac groaned. “I think Charleston is going to sink into the ocean before we make it home.”

  “Probably not,” I answered dryly. “But you aren’t going to be home in time to film. Did you leave anything for Tyler to post?”

  He scrubbed his hands across his face. “No. I thought I’d be home in time.”

  “Can he do it without you?”

  He pursed his lips. “Most of it, yeah. But also . . .” His voice trailed off as he looked around the plane. “I think I’ll do a little something from here, too.”

  “From the plane? Can you do that?”

  “Why not? I’ll talk to a few people, do some trivia, then we can send the footage back to the studio and Vinnie can splice it in with Steven’s tech news stuff. I mean, look around. Everybody’s bored. This will be fun.”

  For the next thirty minutes, I watched in awe as Isaac morphed into a full-scale entertainer. All he did was talk to people, ask them questions, play a few random trivia games. But he had a way of engaging people that was unparalleled. My part was easy. I simply followed behind him with a digital consent agreement I’d worked up on the fly and made sure everyone who appeared on video signed it and gave us rights to publish.

  It was fascinating seeing Isaac in his element. I’d watched his show, and the process of filming and production countless times, but this was different. Isaac was interacting with people—many of whom knew who he was and seemed very excited for the interaction—face-to-face. It brought him to life in a way that his studio stuff didn’t quite capture.

  “You’re good at that,” I told him, as he prepped the video to send to Vinnie.

  “What? Talking to people?”

  “Yes,” I said. “A lot of people should have been annoyed by you shoving a camera in their faces, but somehow you charmed them all into complicity. It was pretty impressive.”

  He smiled. “It’s not something they teach in the Ivy Leagues, huh?”

  “Even when I’m paying you a compliment, you can’t stop making fun of my education, can you?”

  He chuckled. “I appreciate your education. Someone has to keep the doors open at Harvard, otherwise, who would I make fun of?”

  “Is it just the Ivy League you dog on, or, would you, I don’t know, make fun of an MIT grad too?”

  He shot me a knowing look. “You’ve been talking to Dani.”

  “You forced me to talk to Dani.”

  “Whatever. I saw the way you looked at her at dinner. Don’t tell me you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

  I leaned back into my seat. I had enjoyed her company. But there were so many complications. My phone buzzed with an incoming call; I was happy for the distraction until I glanced at the screen and saw my stepbrother’s name across the top.

  Speaking of complications.

  I thought of Gabriel’s warning earlier that week that Victor might try and tell me not to come to the wedding. I silenced the call. If there was anything truly urgent, Gabriel would have mentioned it when he saw me in person.

  The voicemail notification popped up at the same time the pilot’s voice sounded throughout the plane, announcing we were finally next on the runway. I opened the voicemail, my jaw clenched as I listened to Victor’s message.

  Alex, it’s been a while. Listen, I know you’d rather not associate yourself with the LeFrancs considering our criminal business habits, but what can I say. Alicio is more forgiving than the rest of us. You’re getting an invite to the wedding—Alicio says it’s the polite thing to do—but just a heads up, we don’t actually want you there. This is Dad’s day. Please don’t ruin it by showing up.

  I closed my eyes. Typical Victor.

  I had only been four years old when my mother had met Alicio LeFranc while he’d been vacationing in Charleston. Her divorce from my father had only been final a couple of months when she’d married Alicio and moved to New York. I’d been too young to understand the implications of how quickly everything had happened. But as an adult, I knew better than to assume anyone’s innocence. Even my mother’s.

  In retrospect, I was just glad I’d been able to stay in Charleston with my dad and only live with my mother during the summer. Once she’d married Alicio, her life quickly became one of glitz and glamour and social importance. Alicio’s sons had been older than me when they’d gained a new stepmom, but they’d still been young enough to look the part of “darling
children.” The press had loved to picture the four of them at fashion shows and other social events. Happy. Stylish. A perfect family.

  It’s not so much that I wanted to fit into their world. I was probably better for not having been a part of it. My father had been a philosophy professor at The College of Charleston and had given me a good life full of books and music and culture. But my mother was still my mother. I couldn’t turn my back on the family she’d loved, whether they’d ever loved me or not.

  It didn’t help the situation that Alicio, at my mother’s insistence, had bankrolled my entire education. The private schools I’d attended while growing up, then four years of Harvard undergrad, plus a master’s in accounting. That was the reason I’d agreed to go and work for him in the first place. My mother wanted it—of course that was the biggest reason—but I also felt obligated. So much money invested. How could I say no?

  I remembered going to see Mom in the hospital as soon as I’d arrived in the city to let her know I’d decided to take the job. She was dying, her cancer terminal, the doctors mostly just trying to keep her comfortable, but I’d never forgotten her face when we’d talked that day. The hope she’d had in her eyes that I would build relationships with Gabriel and Victor, find a place in the family she’d grown to love over the years.

  “You do belong here, Alex,” she’d told me. She’d reached up and cupped my cheek with her hand. “You’re so smart, and you have such good business sense. They need you. They may not realize it now, but once they see what you’re capable of, you’ll blow them away.”

  I frowned, discouraged by the memory. I suspected accusing them all of fraud and threatening to go public wasn’t quite the “blowing them away” she’d had in mind.

  Before leaving New York, I’d visited the storage unit Justine had filled for me. It was a little like entering a time capsule, except the woman reflected back in the clutter of belongings wasn’t someone I actually recognized. A few pieces of art I recognized as things I’d seen hanging in her bedroom in New York, but there was an old chair, worn and weathered, and a vintage-looking lamp that I’d never seen in any of the homes Alicio owned. The photo albums Gabe had mentioned were in a milk crate in the corner, their pages yellowed with age. Most of the photos I’d never seen before. My birth, my parents pre-divorce, still smiling and happy in each other’s arms, our house in Charleston. In one of the photos of the house, I’d noticed the lamp in the background. So she’d taken it with her.

  It had brought a measure of comfort to realize Mom hadn’t completely abandoned her old life, but at the same time, it was as painful as it was comforting. Because where was this part of Mom for all those years? Hidden in a closet somewhere? Why hadn’t she ever shown the photos to me?

  Finally on the ground in Charleston, I stayed mostly silent until we were crossing the parking lot toward Isaac’s jeep.

  “You okay, man?” Isaac asked. “You seem bugged by something.”

  “I’m good,” I lied. “Just tired, I guess.”

  He unlocked his jeep and opened the back, sliding his suitcase in before turning around and reaching for mine. “Here, I got it,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  A few minutes into the drive home, Isaac broke the silence. “Hey, listen I’m sorry about making fun of you on the plane. And about Dani, and all that.”

  “What?” His apology caught me off guard. Isaac made fun of everyone, all the time. And he never apologized.

  “I know it was real between you two. I’m sorry if I made things worse by . . .” He waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t know. By making you see her, or whatever.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

  “So we’re cool?” he asked.

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “Cool.”

  I hadn’t expected an apology. Hadn’t really even felt like I needed one. But after listening to Victor’s message, then replaying it in my head over and over throughout the flight home—just a heads up, we don’t actually want you here—it was nice to feel any measure of sincerity, whether from family or in Isaac’s case, a friend.

  The simplicity of his apology reminded me of my father and a familiar ache welled up in my belly—a subtle tightening that lasted a moment then disappeared. I missed my mother, was sad that we didn’t have more time together, that we hadn’t had a closer relationship. But missing my father was visceral—a physical reaction that squeezed and tugged and needled like no loss I’d ever experienced before. It had dulled over the past two years since his death, but I still felt it. Still wished for the chance to have one more conversation with him. Still wished to just . . . belong somewhere.

  Chapter Nine

  Dani

  I clenched my fists together, willing the nerves in my gut to stop with the somersaults. Paige stood in the middle of our living room, wearing the dress—the perfectly crafted, made for her body, gorgeous in every way dress—while her mother circled around her. It had been a good week. Paige’s little sister was maid of honor and she’d pulled off the long-distance planning of a New York City bridal shower from her home in Boston with freakish skill. The shower had been perfect. We’d also managed to squeeze in bridesmaid’s dress shopping and had found a great deal on invitations. And I’d spent hours, most of them in the middle of the night, finishing the dress.

  I didn’t technically need Mrs. Perry’s approval to be proud. I knew I’d designed a winner, and Paige’s approval was all that truly mattered. But I still wanted her mom to like it. I wanted the validation of someone not already bound by friendship loving my work.

  Well, and validation from Ms. Perry was particularly significant. Her maiden name was Pinkney—which meant something if you lived in Charleston. It was one of the oldest and most prestigious names in the city. Charleston society held firm to culture and tradition and Paige’s family was one of the great pillars of that society. I mean, Paige had had an actual Debutante ball when she’d turned eighteen. Big white dress, formal presentation to society, the whole deal. Paige never really bought into it, but for her mom, it was everything. The fact that they could, if they so desired, afford to pay top dollar for a designer dress made the pressure even greater.

  Ms. Perry tapped her perfectly manicured finger on her chin. “Danielle, I admit, I’ve always assumed your love for fashion was nothing more than a hobby, but I think you’ve got something here.”

  Paige smiled. “Really, Mom? You like it?”

  “It’s perfect,” she said, reaching for Paige’s hands. “You look just as I always imagined.”

  “And you’re still going to let me wear your veil?” Paige said.

  “Of course! I actually think it will coordinate with the rest of the dress perfectly.” She turned to face me. “Well done, Danielle. If you like, I’d be happy to spread the word among friends. You keep designing dresses like these, and we’ll make you famous in no time at all.”

  “That’s kind of you to say,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Paige, visible over her mother’s shoulder, smiled wide and raised her fists in silent celebration. “Hey Mom,” she said, throwing me a pointed look, “did I tell you Dani is up for a design position at LeFranc?”

  I glared at her. What was she thinking? I wasn’t up for a position. Well, not officially. Earlier in the week, Sasha had mentioned they were toying with the idea of a paid internship she thought I would be perfect for. I would for sure apply, but there was no guarantee.

  Ms. Perry’s eyebrows lifted. “LeFranc? Really?”

  “It’s not a sure thing yet. I should know something in a couple of weeks,” I said.

  “A LeFranc wedding gown. Now that’d be something to tell my friends.”

  “Oh, but that’s not . . . I mean, LeFranc doesn’t do gowns. Even if I get the job, it still wouldn’t be—”

  “Dani, can you help me with this zipper?” Paige interrupted, giving me a pointed look. She hauled me toward the bedroom. “We’ll be right back, Mom.”
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br />   As soon as we were out of her mother’s earshot, she spun around, hands on hips. “You’ve gotten her blessing,” she said. “How about we don’t say anything to ruin that?”

  “Fine. But she can’t tell people it’s a LeFranc dress. Especially if I get the job. It’s not like they’d be cool with their designers doing a little bit of freelance work on the side.”

  “Ohh, good point.” She turned around. “Here. For real unzip me. I’m hungry and there’s no way I’m eating in this thing.”

  I helped her out of the dress and carefully hung it up.

  “So let’s say you do get the design job,” Paige said. “Hey, can I wear the black dress? The one you stole from work?”

  “Sure.” I crossed the hallway and retrieved the dress. Paige and her fiancé, Reese, were taking her Mom out to dinner. They’d invited me to tag along, but I was on too much of a budget to eat the kind of food they’d be enjoying. Back in her room, I tossed her the dress. “If I get the design job . . .”

  “Right. If you get the job, would you consider showing them the dress?” Paige asked. “I mean, really, Dani. It’s the most incredible thing you’ve ever designed. It might help you make a name for yourself.”

  I sat on her bed. “There wouldn’t really be a reason to. LeFranc doesn’t do wedding gowns.”

  “Really? Not at all?”

  I shook my head. “I asked Sasha about it once. She says it’s always been an idea they’ve kicked around, but the timing has never been right to really go for it.”

  “But maybe they would go for it if they saw what you’re capable of.”

  I laughed. “You are loyal, and I love you, Paige, but I’m a nobody. LeFranc doesn’t care that I made one gorgeous wedding dress. Besides, I made that dress for you. You loving it is good enough for me.”

  She pulled a pair of heels out of her closet.

  “Want to borrow my wool coat?” I asked. “You’ll freeze otherwise.”

  “No, the sleeves are too short. It makes me feel like a giant whenever I wear it. I was thinking my red one would do. You think?” She pulled it on. “Not too casual for the dress?”