by Kari August
Ned frowned, but said nothing.
Dickie continued. “Luckily, Eddie exacted his revenge within months after my father’s and brother’s deaths and took over the crown from Henry VI. Can you imagine? George and I were sent away as untitled beggars, and returned a few months later as privileged princes of the crown.”
“When did your brother George rebel against Eddie?”
Dickie tilted his head, trying to remember. “Let’s see. Eddie reigned for about twenty years before I took over. George rebelled several times during Eddie’s reign. That’s when George and I really parted ways, as I remained loyal to Eddie. George sided with Warwick, the Kingmaker, against Eddie about ten years into his reign. Warwick lost his life in battle then. But Eddie didn’t convict George for treason until more trouble occurred about seven years later. Then Eddie had him drowned in a vat of wine. I always blamed Eddie’s wife for that decision. I didn’t spend much time in court after that. I had work to do in the North anyway.”
Ned shook his head. “Good God, his own brother.”
Dickie nodded. “My mother and I pleaded for George’s life, but to no avail.” Dickie paused thoughtfully. “I wonder if George found out about Eddie’s marriage precontract, making his sons illegible for the crown, before I did, and that’s why Eddie felt compelled to do away with George once and for all.” Dickie shook his head. “We’ll never know. It’s a sad family history, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
They both stared into space a moment before Ned stood and announced, “I should call Cousin Clarence before I leave. I haven’t talked to him since he visited.” Ned reached into his pocket for his phone and placed the call.
Clarence’s voice was loud enough that Dickie could hear every word, though the phone wasn’t on speaker.
“Yo, Ned. How are you doing?”
Ned smiled. “I’m well. Did you see our English cousin Dickie on TBN?”
Clarence chuckled. “What was with the old-fashioned duds? He looked ridiculous.”
Dickie frowned and took a step toward the phone.
Ned countered, “Well, the customers liked his outfit, and that’s all that matters. We sold out that first show.”
“I saw. Have to admit I was a little worried initially about how that would affect Grandma Sally’s competition, but then I thought, What the hell am I worried about? It’s just a bunch of dumb cookies.”
Dickie took another threatening step toward the phone. Ned held up his hand to Dickie. “That’s Aunt Elle’s recipe you’re calling dumb. But anyway, those cookies were top-rated, and we’ve been invited to sell again in August.”
“You don’t say. Well, good luck. My new club should be opening soon.”
Ned smiled. “Congratulations! Phone high five.”
Clarence chuckled. “You remember the phone high five!”
Ned grinned. “Of course. But hold up. You haven’t even heard the best news.”
“Oh, what’s that? Dickie’s going to wear another flashy shirt with girl’s tights? Can’t wait.” Clarence guffawed.
Dickie grabbed the phone out of Ned’s hand. “No, George, I mean Clarence, I’m presenting my new medieval fashion line on Liiizette’s Style House.”
“Dickie? Put Ned back on the phone. What the fuck is a Sleaziest Style House?” George laughed harder.
Ned reached for the phone, but Dickie wouldn’t let go. “The sure path to riches, that’s what,” he sputtered, then handed the phone back to Ned.
“Clarence, you still there?”
“Ned, I’m beginning to think he’s not really our English cousin again. And that’s all right. I told you that, cuz. But did you have to go for someone as swishy as Dickie?”
Ned grinned. “Shut the fuck up, Clarence. Anyway, it’s true. Dickie’s going on TBN to sell a clothing line. We’ve hired a designer and found a manufacturer and now have a deal going with TBN.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then Clarence said more softly, “Hey, cuz. I wish you the best.”
Dickie could see that Ned was now frowning slightly. Did he realize that Clarence absolutely did not wish him the best? That Clarence had Grandma’s competition to win?
But when Dickie glanced back over at Ned, his expression had cleared. “Thanks, Clarence. When things slow down around here, do you want to get together again?”
“Sure, cuz. Keep in touch.” The line disconnected.
Ned reached for his camping gear and loaded it on his back. “Well, I guess I should get going. Clarence can sometimes be obnoxious, Dickie, but he means no real harm. Hope you sleep better tonight.”
“I will. You know, Clarence has given me an idea. I think I’ll ask Lindsey to sew me another outfit for my performance.”
A slightly hurt expression flitted across Ned’s face before he said, “You do that. See you tomorrow.”
Lindsey heard a knock on the RV door, took the pin out of her mouth, and yelled, “Come in!” She was altering yet again a gown she was contemplating asking Liiizette to wear during the Holidays in August show—kind of a preview of what would be in store for customers to buy if the line proved a hit.
“Dickie! What brings you to my humble work abode?”
Dickie took a seat on one of the leather lounge chairs fastened to the floor. “I’d like a new outfit to wear on the show. Could you design and sew it?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Something all leather.”
Lindsey shook her head. “Ew. I’m not so sure. That sounds as if it would be too hot under the studio lights.”
Dickie frowned. “I want something manly. Something regal that shouts that I’m a warrior king not to be messed with.”
Lindsey pondered a moment. “Well, we could make it partially leather. After all, with your strong facial features, wide shoulders, and muscular legs, nobody in their right mind would consider you at all feminine.” She smiled. “I’m counting on your handsome physique helping to sell my clothes.”
Dickie gaped at her. “I . . . I . . . I know I’m kingly, but I’ve never thought of myself as having a handsome frame. Thank you, Lindsey.”
Lindsey cocked back her head. “Well, I don’t understand why ever not.” Her phone rang; she held up her finger to Dickie and answered it. It was Bing, TBN’s consultant.
“Lindsey, I like the design for Liiizette. I think you should go with it.”
“What does Conrad think of the color?”
“He says a shade deeper would be trendier, but not match Liiizette’s tone as well.”
“Thanks, Bing. Talk to you soon.”
Dickie was looking at her, puzzled. “Who are Bing and Conrad?”
“Bing Shanee and Conrad Loralie. Consultants for TBN.”
“You mean you’re using their help?”
“Sure, why not?”
Dickie chuckled. “So Ned didn’t have to slay any dragons for you after all.”
Now it was her turn to be perplexed. She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
Dickie went on to explain how Ned had stood up for her at the TBN final negotiations, making sure she was not excluded as a designer for the line. That it would be her decision whether she wanted any outside help and hers alone.
Dickie chuckled again. “Why, we almost lost the deal over this. Ned said it was you as the designer or a no-go.”
She hadn’t heard about any of this.
Dickie continued. “Ned was very impressive—not surprising, considering his royal York bloodlines. He must have been quite the formidable attorney when he was practicing law.”
Lindsey couldn’t help asking, “Why did he give it up? He wanted to run the company more?”
Dickie looked surprised. “You mean you never heard about the Mindie, Cindie, Charlena debacle?”
“The what?”
Dickie gave the details of how Charlena’s blunder had caused Ned to lose his important client, Mindie, leading to his firing at the firm.
; Lindsey could only imagine what a blow it must have been for Ned. “He evidently was at the top of his game, being assigned Mindie, and then to be dismissed because of his girlfriend’s mistake!”
“Is Mindie more famous than Dougie?”
“Way more.”
Dickie’s eyes widened. Lindsey shrugged and glanced briefly away. “Well, Ned’s obviously forgiven Charlena now.”
Dickie shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that. I think it would be more appropriate to say that I’ve forgiven Charlena. Ned can’t forget . . . I don’t want to say Charlena’s stupidity . . . let’s just say her naïveté—”
Just then the door to the RV opened, with Charlena announcing cheerfully, “I’ve brought Connie for her fitting, Lindsey.” But she obviously had simultaneously heard the tail end of their conversation, because her face dropped. She looked at Dickie. “I feel so bad about what happened. It’s all my fault.” She plopped down on the corner banquette and swallowed hard, clearly holding back tears.
Dickie muttered, “Uh, I need to check on Cody,” and made his escape.
Now what? Lindsey was supposed to help Charlena with her problems with Ned? Oh, how awkward.
But Connie, who barely knew Charlena, stepped to the rescue. She sat down next to Charlena and took her hand. “Now, what’s this all about?”
And Charlena tearfully spilled her guts to Cody’s mom, explaining how she normally didn’t talk about it, how she was still losing sleep over it, how she looked so horrible with the dark circles under her eyes, how she had made such a stupid mistake, how she was never going to forgive herself, how she didn’t know how she was ever going to make it up to Ned . . . until Connie, who had been listening intently, held up her hand to give her verdict.
“Now, you listen to me, Charlena. You stop this blaming of yourself. It was Ned’s fault. If it was so important to hide his client’s identity, then he had no business leaving his work on the table for you to see.” She raised both arms in the air. “‘Aka’! As if even half the American public knows what that means. How were you supposed to know? And to think you had such a vicious friend who would use your innocence against you. Why, it makes me sick!”
Lindsey suspected that nearly all the American public except Charlena knew what aka meant but Charlena’s mouth dropped open as she blinked closed her floodgates. “You really think so, Connie?”
“Absolutely. Now dry your tears. We’ve got work to do with Lindsey here.”
But as Lindsey quietly tailored the clothes Connie would wear on the show, she listened as both women, with very different backgrounds, bonded faster than any two women she had ever seen. They talked about Charlena losing her mother at such a young age. They talked about Connie losing her husband and raising Cody alone. They talked about Connie’s annoying boss. They talked about Charlena drinking a glass of milk to help her sleep at night. Good God, they talked about everything and anything.
Lindsey supposed Connie was a mother/older-sister figure to the siblingless Charlena, and Charlena was a glamorous daughter/little sister to Connie, who had been living a life of drudgery working as a salesclerk since her husband died, trying to make ends meet, while raising Cody on her own. But even realizing that, Lindsey was still taken aback when Charlena opened her mouth next.
“Connie? I have to attend a charity event in New York this weekend. Why don’t you come with me? I don’t have a date for the event.”
Connie was dumbfounded, but pleased. “Oh, I couldn’t. How would I get there? I can’t afford a new dress. I wouldn’t even know what to wear!”
Charlena jumped up and down excitedly on her toes, waving her hands. “Oh, my gosh! This would be so fun! I’m flying in Daddy’s jet from Denver, so you could come with me. And I know! We could both do a makeover when we get there. My hairdresser and makeup artist would just love to meet you. They’re meeting me at my hotel in New York before the event.”
Connie actually giggled youthfully. “But what would I wear?”
Charlena turned to Lindsey. “I was going to ask you if I could wear one of your evening gowns to the event. I really love your designs. Do you have one in Connie’s size?”
Charlena looked at Connie, eyes lit up. “Wouldn’t we make a statement?”
But Connie could only grin widely.
A few days later, Charlena walked into the RV and slapped down a newspaper society page in front of Lindsey. “You’re a hit. My friends loved my gown.”
Caroline leaned over Lindsey and read the caption: “‘Everyone’s favorite heiress, Charlena Haute, in stunning evening wear she will be modeling herself on TBN in August.’” She looked up and smiled. “Jeez, talk about creating great buzz before the show.”
Lindsey jumped up and hugged Charlena. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Charlena beamed. “My pleasure.”
Caroline asked, “Did Connie enjoy the evening?”
Charlena frowned slightly. “I think so, or at least she said so. Daddy actually took her under his wing, introducing her to his friends. I hoped she didn’t mind spending the evening talking mostly with him. He can drone on about his businesses sometimes.” Charlena shrugged. “But wait till you see her makeover. She looks years younger!”
Ned dug into his bowl of ice cream while Dickie watched a show about wilderness survivor men on television. He shook his head at Dickie. “That’s absurd. You know we can’t name the clothing line that!”
Dickie shrugged. “Then you come up with a better name.”
“Well, we need it soon. The network is after us for a specific brand, and the labels are to be sewn into the clothing soon.”
Dickie raised one brow. “I thought of the name for the cookies. Why don’t you ask Lindsey what she thinks?”
Ned had thought a lot about Lindsey on his camping trip—what he would say to her if she gave him a chance. He didn’t want to admit to Dickie that he wasn’t sure whether she would even talk to him. “Okay. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
Dickie looked over during the commercial break. “If the name is so important, you should ask her tonight.”
Ned frowned. He glanced out the window. The door to the RV opened and Charlena and Caroline stepped out in their jogging outfits. They headed down the driveway at a slow pace. “You’re right. I’ll head over there now.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ned rinsed his bowl in the kitchen sink, then ambled over to the RV, nearly turning back twice. He knocked softly on the side of the RV screen door. “Lindsey, could I talk to you?”
He heard something crash to the floor inside, then swearing, then a sound like stumbling. Lindsey appeared at the door in bare feet, grimacing, holding her right foot off the ground. “I just stubbed my big toe. It hurts like hell.” She tried smiling. “I didn’t want to miss you.”
Ned looked at her toe in concern. “You didn’t?”
She opened the screen door and Ned walked in.
She hobbled a few steps back. “I wanted to tell you . . .” She stopped and stared at him a moment. Ned looked back intently, waiting to hear what she had to say. “Uh . . . it’s hot in this RV, don’t you think? Let’s go outside and get some fresh air.”
“You want to sit on the cabin porch?”
She smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Then Ned did something unexpected even for himself: He stepped toward Lindsey and ordered, “Put your arm around my neck. I’ll carry you.”
Lindsey protested, “You can’t do that—”
But Ned was already scooping her up into his arms.
Lindsey started laughing as Ned carried her toward the RV door. She leaned over. “Let me push that open.”
They wobbled out of the RV, Ned nearly dropping her, Lindsey screaming and giggling, but then he bounced her more firmly into his arms and proceeded to carry her toward the porch.
“God, this is embarrassing. I must weigh a ton.”
“Only a half.” Ned smiled devilishly.
She punch
ed his arm. “Thanks a lot, hero.” But she continued laughing.
He lowered her carefully to the porch steps, then stood up straight. Ned chuckled. “I’ve never done that before.”
“What? Carry a woman, or tell her she weighs half a ton?”
Ned smiled as he sat down next to her. “Both.”
They looked at each other, grinning a moment. Then each began to talk at the same time.
“Ned—”
“Linds—”
Ned nodded once for her to continue.
Lindsey glanced away a moment, then returned his gaze. “Dickie told me the details of what occurred with the contract negotiations, and what happened with—” She cut herself off and shook her head briefly, as if she had said too much, but then said, “I wanted to thank you for intervening on my behalf with the network.”
“I just thought it was important. . . .” Ned trailed off and looked at the ground. Could he tell her the truth? That he thought it was important for her to be the company’s designer because he couldn’t bear the thought of ever losing her?
Lindsey was looking at him intently.
“The company needs you,” he finally said. He couldn’t do it, not yet.
But Lindsey was still pleased. She smiled and said, “Thanks. It means a lot that you think so.”
Ned said earnestly, “Oh, I do. I really like your designs—”
She bit back a smile and held up her hand. “And your opinion counts so much. You have such a sense of fashion.” She eyed him up and down in his hiking outfit teasingly.
Ned impulsively reached over, grabbed her around the neck, and gave her a noogie on the top of her head, rubbing his fist back and forth. “You don’t think so?”
Lindsey started giggling again while struggling to get out of his hold. She haltingly said between guffaws, “I’m not sure what’s more trendy . . . your clunky boots . . . or those shorts with a gazillion pockets!” She broke free and grinned up at him while straightening her hair.