Bessy’s eyes flashed furiously. “So you think you know everything? But then, you always act like you do, don’t you, Charlotte—even when you were mopping floors and wearing threadbare sweaters in school.”
This was an old exercise with Bessy but I made the mistake of calling her out about her secrets so now I had to stand still and let her have it out with me.
Someday, I might be awarded for bearing the brunt of Bessy’s bad moods. Better me than the rest of mankind, right? I have a few years worth of callouses to serve as my armor.
“What I know and what I wear, don’t necessarily have anything to do with each other, Bess,” I told her as I pulled out a small tube of tinted lip balm and dabbed some on my lips. “Unless, what you wear sums up all that you know.”
“Don’t preach to me, Charlotte, just because you’re currently deluded with the idea that you’re living a fairy tale,” she snapped at me and for a moment, I could see the resentment clearly focused in her eyes like a macro shot of her soul. “The world is more complicated than you think. Some of us need to go after what we want because not everyone lives like fucking Cinderella with a fairy godmother to help her and a prince who will come and sweep her off her feet. You may have your rags to riches story, your handsome prince, your fancy friends, your fabulous new clothes but you’ve got nothing on what goes on in real life so don’t you dare judge me.”
I stared at Bessy for a long moment.
I could tell her a lot of things—things that might clue her in on the fact that I lived most of my life in this real world—that if there was an outsider looking in on a fairy tale life, it was me. She’d certainly taunted me enough about my previous circumstances to know that.
But those suffering in their own private hell can’t look past the flames that surround them—they’re too busy burning.
I wasn’t really judging her.
To be honest, her mistake was no different than Anna’s. I thought it a lot crueler because Don was her cousin’s husband but without splitting hairs, the two situations were practically the same thing.
Cheating was a rule-breaker for me but then, I only set the rules of my own life, not others’.
What’s that good old quote again? Love the sinner but hate the sin.
If people chose to make mistakes with their eyes wide open, it was their decision to make. I would do my best to discourage it but in the end, my freedom ended where theirs began.
“I’m a terrible romantic and I’ve always insisted that people follow their heart,” I told Bessy gently. “But the heart is like a GPS. It doesn’t always have accurate information and might occasionally lead you to a certain death. The heart is just one part of you. It can’t take the place of your eyes and ears and other senses that will help you get to where you want to go. If you’re not interested in a dive from a very steep cliff where nothing but large, jagged rocks await you, turn around and set a new path. It won’t be easy, and the new path may not be as exciting as the old one, and your heart is going to flip the hell out because it’s suddenly lost but hey—at least you’re alive, which means you can give it another try and possibly actually end up where you want to go.”
There was a strained lull before Bessy threw her head back laughing.
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
Of course, no one had to tell me. A dramatic heart-to-heart with your sworn enemy was no one’s brilliant idea. I should’ve remembered.
“I can’t believe you just gave me some love advice, Charlotte,” Bessy said between gasps as she dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes. “That you actually thought to heap on me some sappy romantic crap as if I’m in some kind of doomed love affair. Didn’t it ever occur to you that I’m just playing? Going melodramatic on me like that suggests you think I have a heart.”
I gave her an irritated look. “Of course, you have one. Where else would all this jealousy and insecurity come from?”
The humor disappeared from Bessy’s expression in an instant. “I’m not jealous or insecure.”
I put the lip balm back in my clutch and picked at a couple of stray strands in my hair. “If you’re not, then you’re just simply contrary. You castigate me for judging you for your decisions because I don’t understand just how limited your options are yet you insist that it’s just all games to you. If you’re convinced you’re in waters as shallow and insignificant as a puddle, then no one should be able to hold your head down and drown you.”
I turned to Bessy and, despite the seething glare she was giving me, smiled. “See you around, Bessy.”
There were no mutters or screams that followed me on my way out so either my words had begun to sink in on Bessy or she just ran out of nasty things to say to me.
Nevertheless, I’d spoken my piece about it.
Sometimes, it’s all you could do.
***
I was never really the kind of girl who lived for sparkles but it didn’t take long to see how potent the glitter and shine of a highly fabulous world were.
The fashion shows started early afternoon on Saturday, right after the ‘media lunch’. It was a press event where all the reporters, editors, fashion bloggers and photographers were allowed to go around the entire backstage where the models were getting prepped for the runway show in the next couple of hours. There was gourmet catering for everyone although glancing around, anyone modeling didn’t eat more than a few chunks of fresh fruits.
I wasn’t sporting bedazzled and bejeweled lingerie and I was fit enough from my regular runs and work-out at home so even though in the last couple of days, I’d avoided food that could make me bloat, I treated myself to a full bowl of water-rich fruits and a few small chunks of dark chocolate so I’d actually have enough energy to walk the runway.
Actually, I need the energy to make it through the long hours of hair and make-up first.
For someone who was only going to be out on the catwalk for a few precious minutes, I was definitely spending quite a bit more time on the make-up chair.
It was fun though, despite all the fussing and the slightly irritating smells of hair products and the occasional jabs of bobby pins into my head. I was sitting in the same station with Felicity, Anna and Tessa, joined by Noli, Armina and Clyde, who all made a rowdy group. Both Vivienne and Cassandra stopped by a couple of times to check on us and chat, bringing in Brandon and Jake who wanted to wish us all luck on their second visit.
Jake’s mouth dropped open at the sight of a very alluring Tessa who was draped in a pearl-blue dress and carefully ignoring the usually smooth-talking man who was gaping at her.
I was just about to jump in and say something to snap Jake out of it before he gave everything away but Vivienne greeted him warmly, their familiarity clearly rooted from an old friendship.
I could see Tessa’s remote expression as she discreetly studied the two while they talked and while I was grateful for Jake’s distraction, I couldn’t help a pang of sympathy for Tessa who found another person to measure herself against, other than her sister.
Vivienne was one of those people both men and women were fascinated with and while there was nothing but old familiarity between the two, Jake’s usual flirty attitude made him a more easy target for Tessa’s already suspicious and insecure heart.
I would intervene if not for the six-foot-three male standing in my way, smiling in a way that drove me to distraction.
“Aimee and a couple of the girls from Marlow’s came to see the show too,” Brandon told me as he pressed a kiss on my forehead. In a hushed voice, he added, “Also, Nicole called to say she might drop in. She doesn’t want to meet anyone just yet but she does want to see your show.”
My eyes widened. “Really? I invited her thinking she probably wasn’t going to go anyway but I’m ecstatic if she is. It’s a big crowd. She can re-emerge without coming in front and center, which is how I’d do it.”
Brandon grinned. “Somehow, I doubt that you could pull off subtly appearing somewhere, babe. You stand
out like a neon sign in a sea of people.”
I pouted at him. “You’re probably right. Neon signs are never going to be elegant.”
“I disagree,” Brandon said as he gazed down at my gown, his warm hazel eyes flickering appreciatively. “While your dress is certainly breathtaking, your elegance is in your soul, Charlotte—old, wise, full of beautiful heart, and crowned with sunshine.”
Brandon said the damnedest things, sometimes—the kind that ruined my artfully applied lipstick because I’d suddenly be possessed by the urge to yank him close and kiss him as if my very survival depended on it.
“Someone get these boys out of here, please, especially Brandon,” I heard Clyde say loudly. “By the time Charlotte gets out there, she’ll look like she’d been stung by a bee on the mouth.”
Brandon and I laughed guiltily as we pulled away, just in time as Clyde started herding him and Jake out of the dressing area.
Vivienne had stayed behind to make the final inspection and minor adjustments on our gowns, which, by the way, were some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
Noli and Vivienne had created a vibrant sunset palette for the collection—Tessa in pearl-blue, Felicity in soft gold, Anna in a bright coral, and me in rich ruby.
Our make up was soft and muted with just hints of creamy blush and a smoky bronze eyeshadow. The top half of our hair was twisted up into a soft, loose bun, the lower half brushed into wispy waves down our back.
The whole look of the collection embodied everything the Vienne brand was known for—feminine elegance.
Finally, it was showtime.
Historic Faneuil Hall’s old world charm dazzled gloriously, especially the second floor assembly room where the fashion shows were being held.
The focal point was the stage where a painting called Webster Replying to Hayne hung. It depicted a debate between Senators Webster and Hayne about the Union just as the Civil War was brewing.
From that stage stretched a long catwalk in the middle, right along the aisle that usually separated the audience seats below. Both sides of the assembly room featured a mezzanine with white Doric columns, housing more seats which were silhouetted by the large windows that backed them.
The entire assembly room, once a setting of many publicly proclaimed political convictions, was now brimming with the city’s, if not the country’s, richest and most fashionable crowd.
The show consisted of three sets, four designers each, and ours was in the last set so we got a chance to peek from backstage, which also had a few monitors that broadcasted a live feed of the whole event.
We weren’t the only ‘socialites’ invited to grace the runway.
I saw both Simone and Layla walk for different designers. Simone had been a model and her walk was a no-brainer. She got the whole smile-but-don’t smile thing down to a science and her walk was brisk yet fluid. Layla, despite being a few inches shy of the usual height requirements for runway models, owned the stage simply with her confidence. She was a big deal and she knew it very well. Despite the sympathy I felt for her, knowing just how tumultuous her marriage was, I couldn’t help but admire her as she strutted her stuff.
When you walk out there, you’re neither a destitute diner girl nor the sensational Mrs. Maxfield. You’re just Charlotte and you’re having fun.
I’d started the day nervous about all kinds of mishaps that could happen—I wasn’t particularly graceful despite all the social polish and ladylike manners Felicity tried to teach me, but I was surrounded closely by people who were having too much of a great time to worry about anything.
In the end, I just let go.
The whirlwind of being dressed, lining up the backstage, walking down the long, narrow catwalk, posing for the audience and the cameras—it was all a moment in time that I would never ever forget.
When our show was over, the media frenzy began. We were all happily bouncing about with Noli, Vivienne and the small crew they brought from the design house, all beaming in the aftermath of our very warmly received show, when tons of media people started thrusting cameras and mikes and at us for a good half hour.
Clyde eventually shooed them all away and helped us change out of our outfits so we could join the rest of the party at the auction dinner party which was starting to roll out in the main assembly hall. The place was going to be converted into a dining hall and needed to be vacated so part of the break between the fashion show and the dinner was the outdoor concert by a popular local band, out where the street performers normally showcased their stuff.
I’d just gotten into deep cobalt blue one-shouldered dress with a strap clustered with small yet genuine blue topaz jewels in a starfish shape, when I got a message from Nicole.
She’d seen the show and just wanted to quickly say hi before she left, not wanting to really join in on the concert or the auction party and run the risk of bumping into someone who knew Francis.
“Go ahead, you guys,” I told my group as we headed out of the dressing room. “I’m just going to quickly say hi to a friend of mine who’s heading out right away. I’ll meet you at the concert.”
I shrugged on an oversized, slouchy gray coat and perched a black fedora over my head to avoid drawing attention. I made my way to the greenhouse which stood just outside of the building. I sneakily dodged random people with cameras walking about and snapping photos, keeping my head down as I went. I didn’t care to be caught on camera but I didn’t want to risk Nicole getting splattered on the tabloids with me when she was barely out of hiding.
The greenhouse had closed early for the day because of the event but I was only meeting Nicole by the back door where not as many people loitered about.
It was late afternoon and there was still a lot of light but I paused and frowned when I couldn’t spot her anywhere.
I walked around, craning my head around for a sign of her. When that turned up nothing, I took my cellphone out to call her.
A slight blur of movement caught my attention and my head snapped up.
Frowning, I marched up to the back door, peering inside until my nose nudged the cool glass.
There were two people inside—well, three if you count the plump lady sweeping about around them, shaking her head.
Through the thick glass and the dim lighting inside, I could make out Nicole’s form in a mint green dress, her arms twisting around while a man locked them in place with his fingers cuffed around her wrists.
The air suddenly left my lungs as I recognized the man’s familiar dark hair and profile.
Francis.
As the situation sank in, I rapped on the door vigorously, drawing the attention of the woman cleaning. The other two were still busy fighting.
“Let me in! Let me in!” I hollered through the thin gap on the door, pounding my curled fists on the glass surface.
The woman walked up to the door and scowled at me through the glass. I could hear her voice but her lips clearly read, ‘We’re closed.’
“I know, I know, but I’m just here to help my friend!” I told her through the gap, raising my voice louder and pounding on the door harder. “Please, let me in before he hurts her!”
The old woman tried to shoo me away a few more times but I started kicking the door that she finally opened it.
“My goodness, woman! Don’t you—” she was saying when she finally cracked the door open and thrust her large mop at me.
“I just need to get to my friend—I’m so sorry!” I told her desperately before pushing the door and scrambling past her.
The two were standing by a rolling cart brimming with potted plants, their raised voices carrying loudly in the nearly-empty store.
“Nicole!” I ran to her and firmly inserted myself between her and Francis, causing him to take a step back as I invaded his space. “Let’s get out of here.”
The woman was trembling behind me, her voice as shaky as she was. “Charlotte, I’m... I was just...”
“She was just trying to sneak out li
ke she was never here but by a sheer stroke of fate, I happened to be just strolling past the greenhouse and spotted her,” Francis sneered. “She popped inside just as it was closing but I would never mistake her for anyone else. I’ll never forget her face.”
“That might be touching to know if it actually meant anything,” I snapped at him, keeping Nicole behind me. “Considering how you dropped her like a hot potato a couple years ago, dear cousin, the sentiment is lost on everyone.”
His blue eyes flared as he glared at me. “You know nothing of what happened to us, Charlotte, so I suggest you butt out. You and Brandon can take yourselves off of what is none of your business.”
I prodded a finger at his chest. “Brandon had to make it his business, Francis, because you wouldn’t. Sadly, that means Brandon, and me by extension, is part of this business, whether you like it or not.”
“And let me remind you exactly of what it’s going to cost you if you insist on getting in my way,” Francis seethed, grabbing me by the arm, his fingers digging in. “Think of the disgrace you’re going to bring to the family when all of your dirty laundry’s let out in public.”
I gasped and shoved him off by angling the same arm he gripped. He staggered back and I seized the chance to grab a rustic-looking rake from a pile of them that were on display just beside the cart of plants.
It wasn’t the most threatening thing in the world but Francis looked surprisingly pale as I aimed it at his face with surprisingly steady hands—granted, I was holding it with both hands because it was too long and awkward a thing to hold out.
“For someone who craves so much approval from Martin, you sure don’t seem all that concerned as to what your exposure of us is going to do to him,” I hissed at him, taking a step back even as I shifted the rake between the two of us left and right to prevent him from grabbing it. “Because maybe at the end of the day, you’re not doing any of this to please, Martin, are you, Francis? At the end of the day, you just want to prove that you’re so much better than Brandon and you don’t care who you hurt along the way as long as you prove your point.”
The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield Page 68