Dior or Die (Joanna Hayworth Vintage Clothing Mysteries Book 2)
Page 26
"Do you mind if I sit?"
She moved the dustpan from the red velvet bench. "Please."
He took a breath. "I’m sorry."
"No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have been honest with you. I—"
"Please, listen to me. I had no right to tell you what to do. I was afraid for you, and I felt so out of control. The only way I knew how to make it stop was to make you stop. But that wasn’t right." He patted the bench next to him. She sat. "I was throwing on you all the guilt I had over taking part in my uncle’s jewel heists, and it wasn’t fair to you."
"But we talked about that. After we went to the Norths. What changed your mind?"
Another moment passed. "My mind didn’t really change, it’s more that I figured out what was most important to me."
"I don’t understand."
"Well, I was repairing some siding at the convent, and Mary Alberta found me. She pulled me off the ladder and said, ‘You love Joanna for who she is, don’t you?’ That’s all. I had all afternoon and all night to think about it. And about you."
As if occupying her hands would quiet her mind, she grabbed a scarf from a nearby display and wrapped it through her fingers.
"Part of what I love about you is your decency, the way you stick up for your friends," Paul said. "I don’t want that ever to change." He paused. "Joanna?"
She looked up, still silent. He’d said "love." Present tense.
"I’ve been such an idiot. You had to help Poppy. I know now. Will you forgive me?"
She glanced at his work-roughened hands, the lock of sandy hair that never seemed to stay in place. "There’s nothing for me to forgive. I was terrified you’d leave me if I told you what I was up to." She caught his gaze, hoping he’d understand. "So I stuck my head in the sand about it. It was wrong. I was wrong. I’m so, so sorry."
As she apologized, a queer mixture of laughter and tears swelled in her throat. Paul came back. He understood. She should have known he’d get it. She should have trusted him.
He reached into the pocket of his Pendleton shirt, the one with the frayed cuffs she’d always tried to replace but that he insisted on keeping. He handed her a small package wrapped in newspaper.
She glanced at him, surprised, and peeled back the paper. It was the box he'd made for her, the one she'd seen when she went to his shop alone. Her fingers slid over its surface, over the inlaid "J" on the the top.
"Open it," he said.
She did. Inside was a folded sheet of paper. She opened that, too. "Green light," it said.
Travelers in the United States have a complex and often misunderstood history. Dior or Die doesn’t even begin to skim its rich lore.
I want to thank the Xtabay Vintage Clothing boutique for inspiring Tallulah’s Closet. If you ever find yourself in Portland, you must stop by to marvel at the amazing clothing Liz Gross has assembled. Be sure to stop at Dot’s Café next door for a tuna melt afterwards, and if you have time, don’t miss a roller skating session at Oaks Park, especially on Thursdays and Sundays when an organist is at the Mighty Wurlitzer.
Thank you, also, to the patient and persistent members of my writing group: Christine Finlayson, Doug Levin, Dave Lewis, Ann Littlewood, and Marilyn McFarlane. The superb editing of Mary Rosenblum and Christine Finlayson, as well as Robin Remmick’s and Jared Pierce’s comments, elevated the story several notches. Wes Youssi of M80 Branding designed the terrific cover.
Thank you for reading Dior or Die! I hope you enjoyed it.
You’ve just read the second novel in the vintage clothing mystery series. The Lanvin Murders is the first in the series, and the third, Slain in Schiaparelli, will be released toward the beginning of 2015. I hope you enjoy them all!
Would you like to know when my next book is available and catch up on fashion tips and living the vintage life, Tallulah’s Closet-style? You can sign up for my newsletter at www.angelamsanders.com and follow me on twitter at @angelamsanders. Don’t hesitate to get in touch at angela@angelamsanders.com.
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