Maya swung her oversized purse over her shoulder and kept walking. This downtown area really was a charming little place for a shop like Derek’s. The palmettos lining the cobblestone street, the benches situated around, and the friendly faces made this a welcome venue for tourists.
In the distance stood the Black history museum, the place that Laura had expressed disdain about. To Maya, the museum added depth to the Lowcountry. It was also a reminder of how far Black Americans like Maya had come.
Maya shielded her eyes from the sun and took another look at the museum. Ever since moving to New York City, she hadn’t come back to South Carolina often, but her mother’s fashion design influence served as a constant reminder to remember the past.
Maya arrived at Always a Bride and saw Derek talking to a man with a tablet in the crook of his arm.
Derek glanced her way and waved. “Morning, Maya.”
Maya waved in return.
“Marlon, this is Maya, our new employee. She’s taking Ginger’s place temporarily.”
“You didn’t tell me you were hiring additional staff.” Marlon’s tone was clipped. “You can’t afford to pay employees.”
Her body tightened. So her first day of work looked like it was going to become her last day of work too.
“Maya is needed here. I cannot go at this alone. She brings a wealth of experience. Besides, it’s not an additional salary. It’s a replacement salary. No harm to the budget.”
The corners of Marlon’s mouth ticked into a frown.
“Marlon is the accountant for the boutique,” Derek said to Maya. “He’s been helping me keep things on track.”
“Oh.”
Marlon gestured to his tablet. An intricate spreadsheet was on the screen. “If you intend to keep her on the payroll, guess I’ll crunch the numbers to be one hundred percent certain that it’ll work.”
“It will work.” Derek smiled at Maya, and a sense of gratitude flowed through her.
“You’ll have to give me the HR information for your new employee,” Marlon said, and focused his attention on Maya. “Welcome to Always a Bride.”
“Thank . . .” Maya’s cheeks heated by fifty degrees. She stepped to the right and a wave of dizziness overcame her. Oh no. The medicine. She didn’t have her medicine.
Maya feigned calm and leaned on a dress rack for support. The rack turned on its wheels, and she stumbled backward. She righted herself to quickly play it off.
Embarrassing. She glanced over at Derek and Marlon. Had they spotted her millisecond of clumsiness? They seemed unperturbed and in conversation about the store’s finances. Could mean they didn’t notice. The last thing she needed was to show sickle cell symptoms at work.
Derek glanced at her. “You okay?”
Oh geez. She couldn’t let on about her health issues. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
Derek didn’t seem convinced.
Her heart beat quicker, and she could feel a sheen of sweat on her upper lip. Oh God, please help me through this. Please. Please. Please. Maya wrapped her palm around the cool metal dress rack, careful not to lean against it and embarrass herself again.
“Guess I better get moving to my next appointment.” Marlon powered off his tablet and checked the time on his smartphone. “Nice meeting you, Maya.” His voice carried a note of restraint.
She nodded in response, not wanting to say something and end up in a coughing fit.
After Marlon left, Maya breathed deeply. The pain then subsided. Thank goodness.
“Don’t mind Marlon. He’s just . . . Marlon.”
“I understand.”
“Ginger should be here later this afternoon. I can’t believe today’s her last day.”
“You’ll manage,” Maya said.
“We hope.” Derek scratched the back of his neck as if he wanted to say more.
Instead, they looked at each other. And looked. And looked. A current passed between them, an invisible electricity that made her uncomfortable. She surveyed the store, a poor attempt to shake off the sensation. “What do you need me to do?”
“You can sort the dresses and shoes. They got mixed up after the big sale.”
A sorting project. Easy peasy. Maya took a few more deep breaths to get her bearings and negotiate around her symptoms. They were gone now, but who knew what could happen?
Why didn’t she put the refill in her purse? Just the other week, she was chiding her father for his forgetfulness. Ever since she came down south, she was getting forgetful too. Like this place made her not so regimented or something. Or perhaps the worry surrounding her father was getting to her.
She headed over to the pile of dresses and sorted them according to size and color. Mindless busywork, but a great distraction from what she’d just felt. Maya hung two lightweight gowns over her forearm and inspected the tags on the dresses. They were both from well-known designers and competitors of Laura Whitcomb Inc. “What are your most popular dress lines?”
He shrugged. “Leilanis. Versaces. Vera Wangs. The usual big-name designers are always popular.”
“Only big names, huh?”
“They’re the safest bet.”
“True, and I’m grateful that you’re giving my dresses a chance.” She grabbed an empty hanger and shoved her hair out of her face. “Seeing some of my dresses on sale here is encouraging.”
“All those designers were once ordinary people looking for a break,” Derek said in that confident way she’d been noticing.
“Of course.” Maya hung a gown on the hanger. “I’m hoping to make that break at my New York job. I’m applying to be head designer, and I hope to get the gig when I return. It would be a dream come true . . .” Her voice trailed off. The desire she had for the position had overwhelmed her. “The competition is tight in New York.”
“You shouldn’t worry about that. I don’t know much about these dress styles, but”—he gestured to two of her dresses now hanging on the clothing racks—“I know yours are unique, different.”
“You’re too kind.” She smiled.
“Not kind. Just telling the truth.”
“I want to make my mark in the bridal gown industry. I want to make something so good that Laura will be super impressed. I’ve been designing for a while, and I’ve had a lot of hits and misses along the way. Life is so short.” Sadness hit her. “I want to make the most of my talents while I’m here.”
Derek put a shoe on display. “Pretty sure you have a lot of years ahead of you.”
Maya didn’t say a word.
He reached for a dress strewn across a footstool, his mouth curved into a wry smile. “Your career matters a lot to you, huh?”
“It does.”
He put the dress on the counter and wrote something on a clipboard. “Somehow I think you’ll be very successful as a designer.”
A thrill rushed through her. “You do?”
“Definitely. I’m usually right about my hunches.”
His store was failing financially, and the space definitely needed a makeover. His hunches may not be too spot-on.
Derek continued arranging the shoes. He studied the display for a good while, and a dimple formed on his cheek. Way too cute.
“Can you help me arrange these shoes, Maya? There are mountains of them everywhere.”
“Sure.” Maya bent to pick up the stray shoes. Derek knelt next to her, doing the same. She scooched around him and avoided eye contact, hand contact, elbow contact—any contact. When she moved away an inch, he moved closer by two inches. On top of that, his cologne was intoxicating.
Flustered by this sudden man invasion, she headed toward a nearby ecru settee, but tripped on a shoebox, which toppled over. The lid flew across the store.
Then a sudden dizziness overcame her. Everything blurred and hazed in front of her face.
Oh no. Here we go again.
Maya tried to right herself but failed to judge her distance from the bench. As she sat, her bottom hit the floor. Hard. A shar
p pain shot up her spine. “Aargh!”
He reached out his hand to help her up, and she grabbed it.
“Are you all right?”
Her pulse accelerated and her breath shortened. “Fine, thank you.”
“You look like you’re glistening.”
Trying to appear calm, she focused on a spot on the wall. “I . . . I’m good. Just a little out of breath.” She took one step back.
“Here.” Derek pulled the settee toward her. “Sit.”
She plopped down, happy to find the padding underneath her this time. A few deep breaths and her pulse slowed, steadied, then returned to something approaching normal.
“How do you feel now?”
“Great!” she squeaked. Why did she squeak?
He sat next to her. “Positive? You seem shaky.”
She really needed her medications. “No problems here,” she double-squeaked.
“If you’re not feeling well, let me know.”
“Okay.” Maya forced a smile and tried to sound like the most composed, most together, most cosmopolitan woman on the planet. Yeah, right.
Maya mentally whispered a prayer-plea that her symptoms would go away, quickly. She couldn’t risk a painful episode. If Derek knew she was ill—if anyone knew she was ill—she’d be treated like she was weak, and she hated when people said she was helpless.
“I can get you some water,” he said.
“I’ll get it myself. Thank you.” She scooted to the edge of the seat, stood up, and headed to the break room. Unease rolled through her body. Once there, Maya grabbed an unopened water bottle from the fridge and guzzled it down.
Maya stood and waited a few seconds to regain her orientation. Then she returned to the sales floor and resumed rearranging the shoes, wrapping them in tissue paper, shoving them into boxes. Derek watched her from behind, but she didn’t crack or crumble.
No more weakness, Maya. No more weakness. Her mother’s words echoed in her heart.
Chapter Five
Derek was sure something was bothering Maya. It was more than just tripping over shoes. She was uncomfortable the entire time. Wonder what that’s about.
The door opened, and he looked up. Ginger entered the store.
“It’s my last day. I’m a free woman.” She smiled. “How’s it going?”
Derek shrugged. “It’s going.”
“You sound like you’re in despair.” She swatted him playfully. “You’ll do great now that you have help.”
“I’m going to miss you. Thank you for all you’ve done over the years.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Ginger’s eyes shone, and then she blinked. “Now here you go making me get all emotional. I’ll be in the stockroom. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
She headed to the rear of the store, and Derek sighed. He’d have to figure out a way forward, somehow.
Moments later, Jamila entered the store. Derek checked his watch. “Kind of late today from school,” Derek said with a forced casualness. “Where were you?”
“I was talking to friends after I got off the bus.”
Friends. Derek should meet her friends. “Oh, who?”
She tilted her head to the side as if to say, I don’t have time for an interrogation. “Just some people.”
“Some people”? Was this how it was gonna be with his daughter? They’d talk to each other over this wide, invisible chasm? He’d have to connect with Jamila via another angle. “All right, then. How about you stick around till closing time? We can go out for dinner.”
“Can’t.” Jamila pulled her smartphone and earbuds out of her back pocket and stuck the buds in her ears.
“Why not?” he asked, incredulous.
“I have band practice tonight, remember?”
He should remember. A good father would remember. “Sorry, hon. I forgot.”
Derek released a slow breath and leaned against the wall. This store occupied his mind too much. He needed to get this place profitable so that he could focus on his daughter. In two more years, she’d be a freshman in high school, and who knew what those years held?
Jamila rolled her eyes and then fiddled around with her smartphone. The chasm between them widened.
“I really am sorry about forgetting,” Derek repeated.
Jamila’s eyes grew distant, distracted. “Don’t matter.”
But it did. “We’ll leave at four o’clock for your band practice.” Derek walked to the register. An orange flyer stuck out from her backpack. He squinted at it.
end-of-year project . . .
Derek picked up the flyer. “What’s this?”
Jamila flushed. “Just some stupid project for school. They said an adult should help us with it, but I told them you were busy.”
So Jamila expected him not to participate in her life? Not good, Dad. “I’m not busy. I’d love to help.” He read the flyer. It was a sewing project.
Oh. Maybe not.
Jamila must’ve read his expression because she said, “See? I knew you wouldn’t be interested.”
He set the paper on the counter. “I haven’t a clue about sewing, but I know someone who does.”
She was silent for a moment. “Who?”
“Maya. She’s the new temporary employee here.” He pointed across the store to where Maya was busy arranging the jewelry and hair accessories.
Her eyes widened. “New temporary employee? A woman?”
She said the word “woman” with such disdain that Derek almost cringed. “Yes.”
Jamila’s eyes hardened. “So you have a girlfriend now?”
“Girlfriend? What? No way, Jamila. She works here. This is her first day. Ginger recommended her because she’s retired after today. We needed a replacement.”
Jamila crossed her arms and huffed. “I can’t come to this store anymore if your girlfriend is here.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “She is not my girlfriend. She’s a temporary employee. I’m trying hard to connect with you, Jamila. You really have to help me out here. You want me to keep this boutique, right?”
Jamila nodded yes.
“Then I need assistance to do that. Maya is providing that assistance.”
Jamila headed to the corner of the store where Derek had set up a small desk for Jamila to do her homework after school. Okay, she didn’t want to talk.
Shortly after Grace died, he’d promised Jamila he’d fly home the next day to be with her. His commanding officer didn’t approve Derek’s leave until a week later. It was agonizing to read all the news headlines about the mass shooting and not be able to be with his daughter through it all. When he finally arrived home, Jamila felt betrayed. She had never said it outright, but he sensed it through her nonactions, heard it through her nonwords. How would Derek reach out to her today? He didn’t know.
Across the store, Jamila pulled out a textbook and opened it.
Perfect opportunity to ignore me. Stick your nose in a book. Well, Jamila wasn’t going to blow him off this time. “What subject are you studying for?” He pointed to the textbook.
“Science,” Jamila said, not looking up.
Science. A one-word response. Hey, at least it was something. “Let me know if you need help with your homework. I definitely want to check it when you finish.”
She didn’t say anything, so Derek returned to his work. One day she’d come around—he hoped.
Seconds later, Maya stopped rearranging the display and walked over to the desk where Jamila was seated. Maya did a double take when she saw Jamila’s book. “Hey, that’s not a science book. That’s a fashion magazine.” Maya smiled.
Jamila slammed her book shut. “What’s it to you?” she asked, defensive.
Maya held her hands up. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s nothing to me. I was just noticing.”
Derek’s body tensed. It was one thing for Jamila to be rude to him, quite another to be rude to Maya, a person Jamila just met. Should he step in? If he didn’t, things
could blow up. But if he intervened, an opportunity for Maya to connect with Jamila could be lost.
The connection was more important, and perhaps Maya could do or say something that would help in that arena. Derek didn’t interfere.
“You know, I love fashion too,” Maya continued. “I overheard you talking to your father about a sewing project. You may not be ready for any help now, but if you ever are, I’m willing to help.”
Derek’s ears pricked. Maya was holding out a peace offering. Interesting. Jamila didn’t answer, however. She took out a notebook and pencil and started writing.
Moments passed, and Maya headed to her oversized bag behind the register and pulled out scarves and different accessories. Maya carried that stuff around with her? Guess it was part of her job.
“Want to try on some of my scarves, Jamila? I think we could find the perfect color scheme for you. I use them to help clients who don’t know how to begin with their wardrobe.”
“I’m not your customer,” Jamila said, not looking up.
Man, why’d Jamila have to be so mean?
“I know that, Jamila,” Maya said. “This is just a friendly ask.”
“Not for me.” Jamila rolled her eyes.
Maya’s brows lifted.
Okay, that was it. This was gonna blow up. Derek opened his mouth to say something, but Maya subtly held up her hand and mouthed, I’ve got this, to Derek.
He paused. Maya sensed the tension too, so he’d respect her request.
If you say so, he mouthed in response. Derek stepped back, waiting to see how this would play out.
“You look like a fall,” Maya said to Jamila.
“A what?”
“Your coloring is that of a fall. I can find just the perfect shades for you. Offer some color scheme ideas to spark your creativity.”
Jamila seemed to be deep in thought. Derek bit his bottom lip, hoping Maya’s kindness would work.
“You said you know how to sew?” Jamila asked.
“Yes.” Maya glanced over at Derek, and her expression filled with hope. “I’m a pro at that. What do you have to create?”
“A T-shirt or a dress or something. I dunno.”
A Lowcountry Bride Page 6
