Liesel pats my hand. “I know it feels like it, but even if it comes down to that, it’s not the end of the world,” she says. “You’ll still be able to work with Taylor, right?”
“I guess,” I mutter.
Liesel smiles. “Then maybe that’s the best solution. You’ll be able to focus on one department.”
“But I don’t want to stop working with Laura. Especially like this. I messed up, right?” I ask. I busy myself examining my coffee lid so I don’t have to look Liesel in the eyes. I wait for her to tell me Laura overreacted, and that my instincts were spot on. I want her to say I was only being efficient.
Instead, Liesel says, “A little. But we all have. And do. The key is to understand your mistake and learn from it.”
I sigh. “I guess I just wanted to come across as an expert, you know? Show everyone I belong? I figured I’d get this assignment done in a flash and impress her.”
Liesel nods. “I think you’ve proved that already. Didn’t Laura show her faith in you by praising your pockets in front of Stefan? You shouldn’t feel like you need to prove yourself every second.”
I look up from my drink. “I just don’t like asking questions about everything —”
Liesel cuts me off. “Asking for help or more explanation when you don’t understand something is a sign of maturity. It shows that you’re conscientious. It’s better to ask too many questions and do the project right than to not ask enough and do double the work later.”
I nod. I get what Liesel is saying, but … what Laura said about me cutting corners still nags at my brain. “Laura thinks I took the easy way out,” I say quietly.
Liesel cocks her head. “Did you?”
I shrug. “Maybe? I thought of all the projects Laura had and how I could help her. I figured if I got this done quickly, I could do more for her. Plus, if I asked her if what I was doing was okay, she might say it wasn’t, and then the assignment would take forever, and …” My voice trails off.
Liesel sighs. “Look, hon. I know you’re not one to shirk responsibility. And from what you’ve said about Laura, she knows you’re a hard worker. But ultimately, it’s her decision — and Stefan’s. It’s out of your hands. Go back to your room. Think up some killer ideas. And no matter what tomorrow brings, you’ll start fresh. Deal?”
I nod, my eyes getting teary again.
Liesel hands me a tissue. “None of that. Tomorrow will be a better day.” She ducks behind the cash register and rummages through a jewelry box, eventually pulling out an antique-looking gold chain with a sun pendant at the end. “Here,” she says, handing it to me. “It’s a reminder that things can always get brighter.”
“Thank you,” I say, putting it on. I give Liesel a hug and head back to my dorm. Time to figure out how to make tomorrow brighter.
Friday morning, I’m up early. I slip on black shorts, a white lace top, and layers of pearl necklaces, then head to work.
After leaving Liesel’s yesterday, I spent the remainder of the day brainstorming and sketching. I tried out one idea after another. Finally, something clicked. I can’t wait to share my drawings with Laura. I just hope it’s enough to convince her to let me stay.
When I arrive at work at eight o’clock, I walk tentatively into Laura’s office. “Hi,” I say. “I brought a peace offering.” I place a caramel macchiato on her desk.
Laura smiles. “Thanks,” she says, taking a sip.
I look down nervously. “About yesterday … I’m really sorry. I was wrong. If I had a question, I should have asked. And you were right about me cutting corners …” I trail off and rub the beads on my necklace between my fingers, feeling nervous.
Laura nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Anyway,” I continue, “I’m really sorry. That’s all I wanted to say. I hope you’ll give me the chance to make it up to you and prove that I deserve to be here.”
“Well, everyone makes mistakes,” Laura agrees. “I spoke to Stefan, and the fact is, I need the help here. I don’t have time to train a new intern, so we both agreed to give you another chance. After all, today is a new day, right?”
I let out a breath and relax. “Right. Which is why I spent yesterday coming up with a plan.” I pull my sketchpad out of my bag and open it to my newest designs. I sketched a variety of collar designs that can be used to distinguish the jackets.
Laura looks at my pages. Her smile grows wider with each drawing. “Yes!” she says. “This is perfect. Collars are a great way to differentiate dressy jackets. Not only can we make inspiration boards with the various types of jacket collars, we can also embellish them.”
She takes a book of designs from her desk and hands it to me. “Here are some collars Stefan wants to use. See how you can incorporate them in your designs,” she says. “Remember the detailed designs you did for the pockets?”
I nod. How could I forget? I’ve been living off Stefan’s compliments on my pockets since that meeting.
“I want designs that detailed for the collars,” Laura continues. “After you and I talk about them, I’ll have you create prototypes for them. Remember, those are mini- versions of a design? Big enough to fit onto the boards. Then, Taylor and I will discuss how to incorporate them into the line to complement her dresses. Sound good?”
“Got it,” I say. This time, there will be no cutting corners.
At my desk, I pore over the pages of Stefan’s designs. Then, I work on sketching a variety of collars. I envision dresses printed with signature art deco geometric patterns, accented by solid jackets with cool collars.
I sketch a shawl collar with rounded lapels and think about how different materials can set it apart. Would it look best in silk or velvet? I sketch other samples, including a notched collar, which can give the illusion of a slender silhouette. A fichu lace collar could soften a piece. I add embellishments to the designs as well. Adding pearls or beading on the edges can spice up a jacket.
“I ordered Chinese,” Laura says, suddenly appearing beside me.
I glance up, surprised. I’d been so engrossed in my sketching that I didn’t even hear her approach. Nor did I realize it was past lunchtime.
“These are really good,” Laura says, leaning over my shoulder to check out my sketches so far. “I love all the variations.”
“Thanks,” I say proudly.
“Let’s go to my office and discuss the prototypes.” She pauses and puts her hand on my shoulder. “You’re on your way to redeeming yourself.”
I beam. I feel good about today’s work, but it’s even better hearing Laura’s compliment.
Saturday morning, I wake up to banging. At least it sounds like banging in my half-asleep state. When I open my eyes, the bedroom is empty, but I hear voices coming from the common area. Why is everyone up so early on a weekend? I wonder groggily.
I roll over to look at my alarm clock and see that early isn’t quite accurate. It’s already eleven o’clock! Whoa. I can’t remember the last time I slept so late! As I stretch my legs over the side of the bed and debate whether I should join the waking world, someone knocks on the bedroom door.
“You awake, Chloe?” my suitemate Bailey calls.
“Barely,” I say, “but you can come in.”
Bailey opens the door a crack and squeezes in, closing it behind her. “There’s a cuuuute boy asking for you,” she says, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows. “Says his name is Jake.”
My heart skips a beat. I met Jake McKay, Liesel’s son, back when I was auditioning for Teen Design Diva. And Bailey is right — he is cuuuute. I thought I’d be seeing him a lot more once I started my internship and we were both in New York, but it’s been almost two weeks since we hung out at the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! museum.
“Great!” I say, my cheeks reddening. “Can you please tell him I’ll be out in ten minutes?”
“You got it,” Bailey agrees. “But I want to know more about him!”
After Bailey leaves, I slip into a sundress and sandals and check my face in the mirror. Ugh. All those early mornings have made my eyes tired and my skin pale. Thankfully, a layer of moisturizer, a few dabs of concealer, and some bronzer do the trick. Totally ready, and it doesn’t look like I just rolled out of bed at all!
“Hey!” says Jake as soon as I step into the common room. Before I can say anything back, he lifts me up and gives me a hug.
Bailey and Avery giggle, and Madison’s jaw falls so low it looks like it’s going to scrape the floor.
“Hey, yourself,” I say, blushing. I love Jake’s hugs, but it’s a little embarrassing in front of my roommates. “This is a nice surprise.”
“Glad you think so,” Jake says with a smile. “I figured you’ve been so busy, I might have a better chance with the element of surprise. Are you free today?”
“Definitely,” I agree.
Jake takes my hand and starts to head out. “Nice meeting you all!” he calls back behind him.
“Have fun!” Bailey hollers, giving me a wink.
When we’re safely outside the room, Jake says, “Sorry about that. I’m just excited to see you!”
“It’s okay. I’m happy to see you too. It’s been kind of a rough week,” I say.
Jake squeezes my hand as we head into the sunshine. “Yeah, my mom said something like that, but she didn’t give me deets.”
I fill him in, and when I’m done, Jake looks sympathetic. “Yeah, that’s rough,” he agrees. “But it sounds like you totally stepped up to the plate and hit it out of the park with yesterday’s designs.”
I laugh. “Nice baseball metaphors.”
We stop at a kiosk and Jake buys us coffee and egg sandwiches. “So, what do you want to do today now that I’ve managed to steal you away?” he asks.
“Want to go to the Met?” I suggest. “I’ve been dying to see their dress exhibit. I think it will inspire me.”
“Sure,” Jake agrees. “But after the dresses, you have to promise we’ll hit their sword and armor collections.”
I wrinkle my nose, picturing case after case of daggers and knightly gear, but a deal’s a deal. “I promise,” I say. But privately I think, But no one said the time spent looking at dresses and armor had to be equal …
***
Jake is a good sport as we move from one dress design to another. I’ve always been into fashion, but the stuff at the Met is totally blowing my mind. We pause at Rudi Gernreich’s Kabuki dress. I love the way he combined styles here, blending the kimono with geometric patterns. The belt rests below the bust instead of at the waist, resembling an empire-line dress.
“He’s fantastic,” I say. “I love that he didn’t play it safe. At the time, his ideas were thought to be scandalous. He broke so many barriers.”
Jake eyes the dress. “I remember reading about him too. I really respect designers who don’t play by the rules.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I bet your designs will be rebellious.”
I smile. “I can see it now. Chloe Montgomery — Renegade of Style.”
Jake grins. “Exactly.”
I laugh but secretly I hope that’s true. I don’t want to be the one who follows the trends. One day, I want to design the trends others copy.
We view more of Gernreich’s work, including the black wool minidress with half-moons all over it. My eyes tire looking at the dizzying pattern, but they’re refocused by the red ribbons on the sleeves.
“A style like this might work for Laura’s knit line,” I say. Stefan seems like a progressive designer who’d go for something unique.
We move on to the evening dresses, and I stop beside a display of art deco-inspired creations. A soft pink dress with a scalloped, beaded skirt and delicate embroidery catches my eye. The pattern is a little busier than what Taylor had in mind, but the scalloped pattern gets my brain working. It could be gorgeous on a dress she’s designing. Or maybe even a scalloped pattern on a jacket! It’s a little out there, but it could work.
Jake drags behind me, and his eyes glaze over. I could look at these dresses for hours, but I know he’s probably had his fill.
I link my arm through his. “Swords?” I ask.
His eyes light up. “You’re sure you’re done?” he asks politely.
“Not really,” I tease. I feel bad when his face immediately falls. “Just kidding,” I add quickly.
Jake’s smile takes over his entire face, and he practically skips to the sword exhibit. I take one last look at the designs around me. After this outing, I’ll have even more ideas for Taylor come Monday morning.
On Monday, I wake up raring to go. Saturday put me in a fab mood. Not only did I get to see Jake, but there’s something to be said about strolling around New York at my own pace. No errands or missions — just me enjoying what the city has to offer.
I hear Bailey, Avery, and Madison in the common room and head out to join them for breakfast. I’ve been trying so hard to make a good impression at work that I’ve been getting there early every day. Usually my suitemates are still sleeping when I leave, so this is a change.
“Pull up a chair,” Avery says when I emerge from my room. I take a seat, and she hands me a bowl.
“I should take a picture of this momentous occasion,” Bailey jokes. “I think this is the first time all four of us have been on the same morning schedule.”
“Join the fun,” says Madison, passing me the cereal box and milk. She manages to do it without looking at me, but at least she’s acknowledging me.
Bailey and Avery exchange secret smiles, then look at me expectantly. I know they’re dying to hear about Jake, but I don’t know if I want to go there yet. Especially with Madison. I wish my best friend, Alex, was here. Texting with her is so not the same as real, one-on-one girl talk.
“OMG,” Bailey finally says, “I’m going to have to pull it out of you, aren’t I?”
I eat a spoonful of cereal and pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about. “What do you mean?” I ask innocently.
Avery laughs and rolls her eyes. “The boy from the other day — Jake. How long have you been together? What’s his story?”
I stall. Together? Jake and I have been hanging out, but is he my boyfriend? We have fun when we get together, but what will happen when I go back to California in September and he’s on the other side of the country in New York City? Ugh. So many things I didn’t even stop to think about.
“Um,” I begin, “he’s great! I like his mom too. Liesel McKay?”
Madison breaks her icy facade and stares at me. “Liesel McKay? No way! I love her stuff! Did she, like, introduce you guys when she mentored you on Teen Design Diva?”
“No. We actually met at an art fair back in California,” I explain. “I had no idea who his mom was at the time. When I found out, I almost died.”
Bailey and Avery laugh. “I bet!” says Bailey.
Madison taps her purple fingernails on the table. “And then she just happened to be your mentor? I’m sure that wasn’t rigged at all.” She snorts.
I sigh. Re-enter the same old Madison. I knew that nice moment was too good to be true. “Well, on that note, I should probably get going,” I say. “See you guys later.”
“Don’t go!” pleads Avery. “We didn’t finish hearing about your boy!”
“Another time,” I promise. “I’m sure Taylor has a list of things for me today. The sooner I get started, the better.”
As I walk out the door, I hear Avery say, “Madison, why do you have to be so mean?”
“I’m just saying it like it is,” says Madison. “It’s not my fault Chloe is too sensitive.”
Bailey starts to reply, but I close the door. I’m starting to get used to Madison’s digs. She reminds me a lot of
my back-home rival, Nina LeFleur. And like my mom has told me before, there’s always going to be a Nina somewhere.
What nags at me more is Avery’s “your boy” comment. Jake isn’t mine. And while an hour ago I was happy just hanging with him when we could, now I’m wondering if I want more.
***
It’s not even nine o’clock when I step off the elevators onto the fifth floor, but Taylor is already lurking by my desk. When she sees me, she glances at her watch, then at the clock on the wall, and frowns.
“I was hoping I’d see you earlier today since it’s been days, but what can you do, right?” Taylor says.
I take a deep breath. This must be the side of Taylor that Madison got to see a lot. There’s no point in saying I’m not supposed to start until nine or that I came in extra early and stayed late last week. I can tell Taylor doesn’t want to hear any of that.
Instead, I plaster on a smile. “I’m eager to get started. What’s on the agenda today?”
“Well, uh,” Taylor says, clearly taken aback by my no-arguing stance. “I have some gorgeous sketches, and I’d like you to make prototypes of them. They have your embellishment and beading ideas incorporated, and I want to see how they look.” She puts a portfolio of sketches on my desk and walks back to her office. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.” With that, the door starts to close.
I quickly look around and realize that I don’t see fabric, thread, or the boards Taylor wants me to pin things to. “Wait!”
“Yes?” Taylor says in a clipped, frosty tone. She’s clearly not happy, but I’m not making the same mistake I made with Laura. I’m doing everything right the first time.
“How should I make the prototypes, and where are the boards?” I ask, keeping my voice cordial.
“What do you mean, where —” Taylor stops and looks around, then mutters something under her breath before marching into her office. She’s back almost immediately, wheeling a cart with boards and materials.
Chloe by Design: Balancing Act Page 7