Champagne Kisses: A Timeless Love Story

by Krista Lakes

  I walked Dean out to the car. On the way to the airport, we passed the spot where the old surf shop had been. It was a Sunglasses Hut now. Dean groaned loudly.

  "Everything's changed, hasn't it?" he asked, sounding heartbroken through his drunken slur.

  "Yes, it has," I said.

  "This town will never be the same, will it? We'll never be the same, will we?" I heard a drunken sob leave his body.

  I put my hand on his shoulder. I wanted to comfort him, but I had to keep my distance. "Maybe it's for the best." He didn't have an answer to that, but I felt him sob a few more times.

  Dean managed to act sober long enough for us to get on the plane. Before the plane even took off, his head was on my shoulder. He was snoring softly, just as he had been when I first woke up next to him. I felt like sobbing myself.

  Chapter 18

  June 16th, 1990

  I stumbled into my apartment, dropping the stack of bills on my kitchen table. They merged seamlessly with the other bills and junk mail, all waiting for me to be responsible and look at them. Nothing I was hoping for had come in the mail. I closed the door and kicked off my shoes, letting my toes stretch out and relax. I had been home for a week and was missing the beach terribly. No, I didn't miss the beach. I missed Dean. Six days, eight hours, and thirty-seven minutes since I had seen him last. And I had no idea how to fill the hole that was growing in my heart.

  I leaned back against the door, closing my eyes and remembering his face. Maybe a letter would come tomorrow. I had sent one off two days ago, carefully checking and then double-checking the address. It had been hard to write, not knowing where to start and then not knowing where to curb my words. I wanted to tell him that he was all I could think about, that I would wait for him to come back if he wanted. But I had no idea how to put that in a letter without sounding overenthusiastic or sappy. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he had just been using me to have a good time before he disappeared back to war? For all I knew, he actually had a boring sales job and the whole going off to Saudi Arabia was just a really good cover story.

  No, I told myself, he really was into me. There was no way he could have faked all of it. No one was that good. Besides, he didn't have to give me the letter; he only would have done that if our time together had meant something to him too. I wasn't sure if that made my heart ache more or less. I wished for the umpteenth time that he was here and not far away. I completely ignored the fact that he was probably in mortal danger at that moment because that was just one straw too many. I knew I would break if I tried to carry that knowledge too.

  I jumped as a knock sounded on the door behind me. The peephole showed a well-dressed man in a business suit, the sun shining warmly around him. I opened the door, cautiously peeking around the heavy wood to see what he wanted.

  "Ms. Weber? Ms. Rachel Weber?" the man asked in a thin, nasal voice. His suit was nicer than I had expected. It was definitely a designer label from this year. Maybe he was one of the designers I had applied for an internship with!

  "That's me. How can I help you?" I hoped I didn't sound too eager. His shoes were also from this season.

  "My name is Edward Martinez. I'm a representative for someone who is very interested in your design work." He pushed a pair of oversized glasses back up higher on his nose.

  "My design work? That's wonderful! Please, come in," I said, opening the door. He stepped inside, glancing at the stack of mail on my table before discretely looking away. He was probably in his early forties; his hair was still dark but the creases around his brown eyes gave him away. He settled gracefully on the couch as I hurried to close the door and join him.

  "Ms. Weber, my employer would like to ask you to come out to New York for a consultation. She was very impressed by your work and would like to meet you." Mr. Martinez gave me a warm smile, and I couldn't help but to return it.

  "That sounds wonderful. Who is your employer?" I suddenly had a horrible, sinking feeling that this was all a scam. I imagined him telling me that for the low, low price of just $99.99, he would be happy to introduce me to someone in the industry.

  Mr. Martinez pulled a card from the inside of his suit pocket and handed it to me. In beautiful swirly, gold letters the name Bianca Saunders dominated the card. I didn't recognize the name, and there was nothing else on the card to give me any hints as to who she might be. Bianca Saunders was not one of the major fashion houses I had applied to.

  "I'm afraid I don't know who this is," I said slowly. Mr. Martinez's face fell a little.

  "You don't know who Bianca Saunders is?" Mr. Martinez frowned and looked at me like I might be an alien.

  "No, I don't." I handed him back the card, but he just held up his hand for me to keep it.

  "Bianca Saunders is the wife of Daniel Saunders..." he said slowly, waiting for me to recognize the name. When my face stayed blank, he continued, "...of DS Oil and Gas. You know, the huge billion-dollar oil company? One of the only oil companies that's not being affected by the current events in Kuwait?"

  Just the mention of Kuwait made me think of Dean. Was that where he was now? I shook my head at Mr. Martinez slowly. Despite everything he said, I had never even heard of the company.

  "Well, Mrs. Saunders saw your senior design project, and she is incredibly interested in meeting you. She is hoping you can design more like it." Mr. Martinez crossed his legs and settled into the couch.

  "She liked my design? That's fantastic!" I felt elation run through me. My professors had loved that I had created something fashionable for a pregnant woman to wear. I knew it was an under-served market, and that it was probably a poor choice for a senior project, but I had made something similar for my aunt, and when the project came due, the fabric had taken a life of its own. Other than my professors, though, no one had expressed any interest in my design.

  "Yes. As such, she has arranged for you to come out to New York City. She would like to see more of your designs and meet you in person." He leaned in conspiratorially. "If she likes what she sees, she is interested in hiring you for your entire fall line."

  I sat back in my chair, trying to keep myself from getting over-excited. My design was for a pregnant woman, so if Mrs. Saunders was interested in it, that must have meant she was pregnant. She was also a very wealthy lady. If I designed the clothing for her pregnancy, and she wore it to social events, I would become a household name. Even though it would be for maternity wear, this was an opportunity I couldn't resist.

  "Well, Mr. Martinez, I am definitely interested, but I'm afraid I don't really have the financial means to be traveling to New York City without some sort of assistance." These were fancy words meaning that I was poor.

  Mr. Martinez smiled, his teeth gleaming a perfect shade of white. "Of course. Mrs. Saunders has already arranged for the flight, your room and board, and a small assessment fee. She understands that you are a busy woman, and that she must pay for your time." He took an envelope out of his pocket, making me wonder just what else he had stashed in his jacket, and handed it to me.

  Inside there was a check for a thousand dollars. I swallowed hard. It had my name on it.

  "That is for agreeing to meet with her. She is willing to pay double that for the original garment to be made to her specifications. As it is a custom fitting, she would like you to be there to do it," Mr. Martinez said. "If everything is satisfactory, she will consign more garments."

  The check shook slightly in my hands, as though I were experiencing a small earthquake. "You said she's taken care of all the travel expenses?"

  Mr. Martinez nodded. He had a slight smile, as though he were secretly amused by my reactions. "The flight is scheduled for tomorrow morning."

  I looked up. This was too good an opportunity to miss. If nothing else, the fee for making her the dress would pay my rent for a while. If things went as well as my imagination was starting to think it could, I wouldn't need to worry about rent anymore.

  "Well, Mr. Martinez, what kind
of weather should I pack for?"

  Chapter 19

  June 16th, 1990

  I gripped my sketchbook tightly, making sure for the third time that I still had the designs from the night before. I had no idea what Mrs. Saunders looked like, how far along in her pregnancy she was, or what her build might be. I had sketched out a couple more maternity designs, but without meeting her, I didn't want to create too many, but I needed enough to impress.

  Mr. Martinez walked calmly in front of me, easily navigating the huge apartment building as we headed toward what he called "Mrs. Saunders' sun-room". The apartment was huge; bigger than what I would consider a house. I had a feeling the oil business, at least for the Saunders and DS Oil and Gas, was doing well.

  I was trying my very best not to be overwhelmed by everything, and I felt like I was doing a pretty good job. Mr. Martinez and I had arrived by a private plane and then drove straight into the city to the Saunders' household. I couldn't wait to go out and explore the city after my interview. The buildings had called out to me, the streets singing that I was in the right place. I had been here less than an hour, and I already loved New York.

  Mr. Martinez knocked politely on a beautiful wooden door. A female voice called for us to come in, and Mr. Martinez opened the heavy door. I followed his steps, trying to exude as much confidence as I could muster. At least I felt dressed for the occasion. I was wearing my most recent design for myself: slate gray dress pants with a matching vest over a dress shirt. It was based off of a traditional men's suit, but fit to flare out and highlight femininity. It seemed appropriate attire for meeting with a powerful woman.

  A petite blonde woman stood gracefully. She was just starting her pregnancy, a gentle curve beginning to grace her middle. I smiled inwardly; I knew my senior project would look amazing on her tiny frame.

  "Mrs. Saunders, let me introduce Rachel Weber," Mr. Martinez presented me as I walked into the room. I held out my hand, making eye contact with my future employer.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said politely. Mrs. Saunders shook my hand with a strength that surprised me. Her brown eyes looked me up and down, measuring and weighing me better than any tailor I had ever met. There was a steel in her look that impressed me. It was clear this woman always got what she wanted.

  "Ms. Weber, it's a pleasure to meet you in person. Thank you, Edward, that will be all." The blonde woman never took her eyes off of me as she dismissed Mr. Martinez. I heard him close the door quietly behind him as he left. "Please, sit down, Ms. Weber. Tell me about yourself. What inspired you to design this piece?"

  Mrs. Saunders sat on an upholstered loveseat, offering me a position in a matching chair. I sat carefully, mindful of my posture. It seemed like posture would matter to this woman. The room was decorated with a feminine, yet incredibly practical, theme.

  I took a deep breath and began talking. "Well, I just graduated with my degree in fashion and design..."

  "I don't need your resume, I already have that," she cut me off. I swallowed and took a moment to evaluate my situation and try again to present my best self. I glanced around the room, taking it in and forming her personality in my mind based off of the design. The uncomfortable upholstered furniture told me that appearances mattered to this woman. She wore a designer sweater and dress pants, but the seams were struggling to support her growing middle. She wants to keep up appearances. Her ring was a simple diamond solitaire that couldn't have cost more than a couple hundred dollars. She hadn't always been rich, but the ring must be sentimental. She loves her husband, I thought. Several photos on the wall caught my attention; they were of a small boy playing with a smiling man I assumed was her husband. She was pregnant with her second child, then.

  "My dad died when I was little, and my mom died when I was in high school," I started. "My aunt finished raising me, but she was more of a friend than a guardian since she was only a few years older than I was. Last summer, she got pregnant with her first child. She hated maternity clothes. She has a figure very similar to yours, and everything was incredibly baggy and loose. Ugly floral patterns, awful stretchy denim with no pockets, and jumpers designed to fit a whale. It was terrible." I paused for a moment, catching my breath.

  "Go on," she said, a slight smile pulling on her lips. If she was looking for maternity wear, she knew the fashion horrors I was referencing.

  "She had a big party for her husband's job," I continued. "She was ready to pretend to be sick so she didn't have to wear the only dress she could find that would fit, despite it making her look like a giant balloon. I love my aunt. So, as a surprise, I made her a dress."

  I smiled at the memory of my aunt's amazed expression and the tears of joy that had streamed down her face when I showed her the dress I made her. She had hugged me like I was the biggest hero in the world. The next day she had come over to my house with brownies, raving about how everyone couldn't stop complimenting her dress. She said she felt beautiful for the first time in months.

  "It was just a simple black dress, but I designed it to bring out what was beautiful about her. Even though she was pregnant, she didn't have to feel huge and out of place. She loved it. It became the basis for my senior design piece." I couldn't decide what to do with my hands as I finished, so I simply folded them on the top of my design notebook and waited for Mrs. Saunders' response.

  "So, your senior design is what your aunt wore?" Mrs. Saunders frowned slightly, as though I were trying to pass off something used as new.

  "Oh no, I didn't mean to imply that," I said quickly. "The design for my aunt was simply the starting point. I didn't even mean for the idea to go anywhere, but once I started brainstorming things for her, I couldn't stop. The design I submitted for my senior project has never been worn. My aunt gave me feedback about what she liked and disliked about the dress, and then I added my own twist."

  I held up the dress and pointed to parts of it. "The fabric, the collar, the sleeves, the length, and the back are all different. If you held the two dresses up, the only real similarity is that they are both designed for a pregnant woman," I said. Mrs. Saunders clearly wanted something unique, and I chewed nervously on the inside of my lip. I didn't want to screw this up.

  "I see." Mrs. Saunders nodded, her face revealing nothing. Sweat trickled down my spine. I couldn't afford to miss out on this opportunity. "Do you have more designs like it, or is it the only one of its kind?"

  I grinned and opened my sketchbook. This is where I knew I would shine. I crossed the small space between us and knelt on the floor before her, flipping to my newest designs. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me as I began pointing out the designs. My excitement surprised her.

  "I have several designs here for different stages of a pregnancy. This one is more for the beginning stages, just when things are starting to fit differently, and then this one," I turned the page and pointed to a drawing of a very pregnant woman in a flowing dress, "this one is for the last couple of weeks."

  "May I?" Mrs. Saunders asked, reaching for the sketchbook. I nodded and handed it up to her.

  "These are just some initial drawings. I would love to make some that are personalized to you and your tastes." I held my breath as she leafed through the drawings. A soft smile started to form on her face. She looked over, her brown eyes warming as the smile took hold.

  "I would love to see more. I especially like this one," she said pointing to a flowing gown in emerald green. "But, I will need business appropriate attire as well."

  "I actually have some ideas. Here." I flipped several pages to a series of woman's business suits. They weren't originally designed for maternity, so I hadn't showed them to her yet. "If I modify the seams here, it would look fantastic throughout a pregnancy."

  "What about this one?" she asked, pointing to a smart-looking skirt and tight blouse. I frowned slightly.

  "I'm not sure I can make that one work once you hit the second trimester. I can make anything fit, but with the cut and shape of the skir
t, it would look like I stuffed you into it. If you want it, I'll make it, but I don't think you'll be pleased with the outcome," I answered honestly. Her smile grew a little bit bigger.

  "Thank you for being honest. I had to fire my last designer because she said everything looked good, even when it didn't. I need to look professional, not tacky. I help my husband run this business, and I can't let this pregnancy slow me down." She sighed and looked over at the pictures of the little boy on her wall. "When I had Jack, I didn't care what I wore. I was just so excited to be having a child. I look back at those pictures and wonder how anyone took me seriously. With the current market the way it is, I don't have that luxury this time."

  A knock on the door interrupted whatever she was going to say next. Mr. Martinez poked his head in. "Mrs. Saunders, you're three-o'clock is here," he said softly. Mrs. Saunders nodded and he closed the door carefully behind him.

  "Well, Ms. Weber, I think that this will work out wonderfully. I'll have Edward set up an appointment for the two of us so we can get measurements and go over my preferences as well as payment." Mrs. Saunders stood up slowly, and I followed her example.

  "I'll make up some more design ideas. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Saunders, and I look forward to seeing you again." I shook her hand and she smiled warmly.

  "Likewise," she said as she walked me to the door. I thanked her again and stepped out into the hallway, letting out a huge sigh of relief once the door closed.

  She liked my designs. She wanted me to design more for her. A giddy rush of happiness consumed me and it took all my will power not to dance and sing as Mr. Martinez led me back out to the street and into a waiting car. I was in New York City, and I was going to be designing clothing! This was more than I could have hoped for.

  Chapter 20

  June 16th, 1990

  Down at street level, I got into the waiting car and stared out the window. The driver was silent as I headed back to my hotel, and my mind was on designs rather than the giant buildings when something caught my eye. A young boy, about five or six years old, was walking resolutely along the sidewalk. He stopped, setting down a brightly-wrapped present, and pulled out an oversized map, his small face frowning as he tried to read it. The boy obviously was trying to get somewhere to deliver the gift, but I couldn't see an adult with him. I watched him for a moment as we sat at a light, wondering why he looked vaguely familiar.