All That Glitters

by Diana Palmer

  “I want more evening wear with that crystal signature design,” Curry told her as he met with her in his office in late March. “And while we’re on the subject, I think it might be an interesting idea to include a pants suit in the line.”

  “Dee suggested that,” Ivory agreed. “I’d love to work up a design.”

  “Go for it. Do several.”

  She hesitated to ask him anything personal. She’d been immersed in her work, developing new ideas. He’d spent nearly all his free hours at his mother’s side as her condition deteriorated. They’d had little time for each other.

  He looked more fine-drawn than usual, as if he had more than his normal load on his mind, as they sat in his office.

  “How is your mother?” she asked gently.

  His face closed. “Fine.”

  The polite snub made her self-conscious. “Good. Uh, I’ll get back to work now...” She started to rise.

  “Sit down.”

  She did.

  He leaned back in his chair with a faint sigh. “She’s not fine. She’s had the radiation treatments—so many that they’ve all but burned her up. She went through one course of chemotherapy, but they checked her and said she needed more. They come to the house and draw blood for testing and come back the next day and give the chemotherapy. She’s sick all the time. She still has headaches from the radiation and nausea.” He clasped his hands on the desk and stared at them. “The only good thing is how kind people are to her.”

  Ivory was remembering Tim, who was HIV-positive, and how unkind some people had been to him since his condition had been acknowledged. He’d told his best friend at school, who had, like most young boys, spoken without thinking to other people. Now Tim was alternately taunted and avoided by his classmates, and every time Ivory saw him he was more morose and despondent.

  “She’s going to die, you know,” he said abruptly. “They found cancer in her other lung. And it isn’t responding to treatment. It’s a matter of months, they said. Probably weeks.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  He pushed at a paper clip on some papers. “I know that. It’s hard for me to talk about it.” He searched her eyes. “I need you more than ever right now. But look at the complications. Your work takes up all your free time, and Mama and financial complications at work take up all of mine. I don’t even have the energy to make love to you.” He smiled at her expression. “Yes, I want to. I think you want to as much as I do. One day this will all go away, and I’ll take you down to Nassau for a week. We’ll make love all day and party all night.”

  “A lovely thought,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve never been to the Caribbean,” she added without thinking.

  “Never?”

  The question brought her up short. She had to stop letting herself be caught off guard. “It was always Europe,” she corrected.

  His eye narrowed but he didn’t say anything.

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” she added gently. “I guess we all reach a point when we’re beyond any human help,” she said. Her eyes had a faraway look. “I remember when my father died. They found him...” She didn’t mention where; she couldn’t tell him that her father had died in a field. “He looked like he was asleep. I had thought he was going to live forever. For a while, I hated him, because he left me behind.” That had been because she was totally at Marlene’s mercy after his death. She couldn’t mention that, either.

  “You loved him a lot, I guess?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s hard to give up a parent. But a mother hits closer to the heart.”

  She couldn’t agree with him, so she didn’t say anything.

  “I remember,” he said abruptly, and smiled just faintly. “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything, right?”

  Surprised that he’d remembered her saying that, she laughed with delighted surprise. “Well, yes.”

  He wasn’t going to ask about her mother. It was too obvious that she didn’t want to tell him. She kept so many secrets from him. He’d learned that he couldn’t pry even one out of her. That quality of mystery intrigued him, but it also made him wary. What was she hiding? If she loved him, why didn’t she trust him? The statement his mother had made on New Year’s Eve, about Ivory using him as a ladder to get to the top, still niggled. He didn’t think he believed it. After all, Ivory came from old money, and she didn’t need his help. If she’d been poor, well, there might have been something to his mother’s accusations. He was only being fanciful, he told himself.

  “I have some news for you, by the way,” he added. “Your suit design has brought us more new business than the company had for the past five years before I took it over. And it looks as though sales of that couture evening gown are going to go just as high.”

  “Really?” Her expression was one of almost tortured delight.

  “No need to ask if you’re pleased. I hope the Crystal Butterfly Collection is going to continue to be such a bestseller. In the meantime, whatever you need, you can have.”

  “I’m just overwhelmed!”

  “You deserve to be. All a talent like yours needed was a showcase. I’ve given it to you. Now let’s see what you can do with it.”

  “I’ll try not to disappoint you,” she said sincerely.

  “I’m not worried.”

  She got up to go, pausing by the door.

  “Was there something else?” he asked.

  Her hand closed around the cool doorknob. Yes, she thought, lots of things, such as: Why don’t we talk anymore except about business, why have you stopped coming to see me, why don’t you want to take me out? Was I just a one-night stand after all? Didn’t you mean it when you said you loved me? All those questions rolled around in her busy brain, but she hadn’t the courage to voice them. He had enough on his mind with his mother so sick, and she knew there had been problems at his Wall Street office, because she’d heard about them through the grapevine. It wasn’t really surprising that their time together had dwindled to lunch once a week, but it was disturbing that he didn’t seem to mind.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him as she left the room and smiled brightly. “No. No, there was nothing else, thanks.”

  As the spring and summer went by, the name of Ivory Keene became known in the fashion industry. Her Crystal Butterfly Collection pieces were worn by everyone from film stars to socialites, both in America and abroad. She gave interviews, but with conditions, and then prayed that her mother wouldn’t read about the lies her daughter had concocted. Since her mother’s choice of reading material was limited to the local gossip columns and Harmony, Texas, was too small to have a bookstore, Ivory didn’t expect that her mother would even see a copy of Vogue or Elle or Harper’s Bazaar. Nevertheless, she worried. She’d spread her lies, however, and she couldn’t take them back now. She’d just have to pray that her mother was satisfied with the increasing size of the checks she sent home and leave her alone.

  She was photographed at showings; her name started cropping up in conversations on television when people wearing her clothes were interviewed. Inevitably, she was asked to appear on a program that dealt specifically with design. She refused, but Curry accepted on her behalf and made her go. Such publicity for the company was too good to turn down, he explained. She had to do it.

  “We’re just edging into the black,” he told her as he explained the interview to her in his office. “We haven’t any choice. I’m sure you realize that opportunities for publicity like this don’t happen every day.”

  “I do,” she agreed. “But I’ve never been on television before. I’m not sure how I’ll perform when I’m on camera.”

  “You’ll perform just as you should,” he assured her, and a faint smile touched his mouth. “Relax and enjoy it. You’re a celebrity. You’re famous. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  She s
tared at him with her heart in fragments in her chest. She’d thought it was. Money, fame and glory, surely they were the end of the rainbow. But she couldn’t forget that night in his arms, the tenderness, the passion, the love they’d felt for each other. She couldn’t even imagine that with another man. And if the lack of tidbits from the grapevine was any indication, he wasn’t on the town with other women except to show Kells-Meredith clothes, either. The curious thing was that although he’d slowly backed away from her after their intimacy, she was certain that he still felt something for her.

  “You’re staring,” he said quietly.

  She studied him quietly. “You’re good to look at.” She managed a smile. “Sorry, boss. I’m trying to manage the status quo. I get flashbacks sometimes.”

  “So do I,” he replied gently. “But there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

  “I haven’t asked for anything,” she reminded him.

  He looked at the paperwork scattered across his desk; cost figures for the new line, production quotas, sales figures.

  “I won’t ask for anything, either,” she added.

  His face came up. He stared at her for a long moment, thinking how she’d changed in the months she’d been with the company. The clothes she wore weren’t haute couture, but they were at least new; and she had a poise and sophistication that hadn’t been there before, either. “You’re different, somehow,” he said after a minute.

  She smiled. “Of course. I’m in a responsible position. Having to make decisions that could cost money and jobs does change people. I expect it changed you, too, when you started out.”

  “A lot of things changed me.” He stood up and went to look out the window, his hands in his pockets. “Money and power make subtle differences in the way we think, Ivory. I like to hope that you won’t become hard and inflexible as you climb higher in the organization.”

  “I won’t,” she said with assurance. Her gaze slid hungrily over his back. She wished that she had the right to go up to him and slide her arms under his and press close against his back. He was the only man she’d ever loved, or ever would, she was certain of it. But he’d backed away without any explanation and she didn’t feel free to offer him comfort or love.

  He seemed to feel her gaze. He turned his head abruptly and looked straight into her eyes. The muscles in his jaw moved convulsively.

  “I’m going to send one of our promotional staff over to talk to you this afternoon about that TV interview.”

  “About what?” she asked curiously.

  “You don’t just go on television,” he explained. “You have to know how to avoid questions you don’t want to answer, how to manipulate the interview.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Can’t I just tell the truth?” she asked, to erase that odd expression from his face.

  Sure enough, the question erased it. “Of course.” He turned around and perched himself on the edge of the desk. “What do you say when he asks if you’re sleeping with me to advance your career?”

  Her lips fell apart. “He wouldn’t ask me that.”

  “Don’t you believe it,” he fired back. “These days, the shows that get the best ratings are the controversial ones. They won’t stick to asking where you got ideas for your designs. Believe it. I make news, whether I want to or not. And because you work for me, they’ll put you right on the hot seat.”

  She’d worried about how she was going to look on the small screen, but he was telling her to expect something much worse. Her background lay just under the surface, and exposure was a constant fear. What if the interviewer decided to dig that deeply? After all, one fashion writer had seen right through her. What if she were exposed on national television!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IVORY STARED AT Curry with eyes that didn’t even see him. The faintly hunted look on her face made him curious.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I didn’t realize,” she began. “About their digging for confidential information, I mean.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t think you would. That’s why I want you to work with our public relations people before you even get on camera. This show is live, not taped. You’ll be totally on your own when you get onstage. We can’t help you.”

  “I can’t talk to public relations people about what to say if I’m asked about sleeping with you!”

  “Then ask me,” he said softly.

  She bit her lower lip until it hurt. “Okay. What do I say?”

  “Tell them that you love me,” he said with a smile.

  “I will not!”

  “You do, don’t you?” he persisted softly. “Despite everything?”

  She stared at him but she didn’t deny it. How could she?

  His arrogant face lifted and he smiled at her again. “So tell them. And tell them that I love you back,” he added in a tone that told her nothing, not even if he really meant it.

  She flushed. “That won’t stop them.”

  “Yes, it will. Then they’ll start pumping you for wedding plans, and you can mention our new line of couture wedding gowns.”

  She gaped at him.

  “Manipulation,” he said in a wicked voice. “They use us, we use them. Play the game.”

  Her fists clenched in her lap. “It’s dishonest.”

  “Everything is,” he replied. He shot back his cuff, glanced at his watch and scowled. “I’ve got to get down to the Regency Room. They’re holding a showing of those new holiday gowns for the press. I’m taking Belle.”

  She thought she camouflaged her disquiet well, but he saw it.

  “I take Belle to a lot of events. She wears our clothes,” he said, without coming close to her as he spoke. “I do nothing else with her,” he added. “Or with any other woman. Not since that night. I couldn’t.”

  Her legs felt wobbly. She couldn’t look at him. “You don’t come around at all,” she said, betraying her pain for the first time.

  “When do I have time, Ivory? When do you have time? We’re both caught up in situations we can’t resolve overnight. And my mother’s dying. I have to share the responsibility for her care with my sister. I can’t let Audrey do it all alone. We want to do all we can for her, while she’s still here. And,” he added heavily, “it won’t be for much longer. She’s going downhill more every day.” His voice sounded tormented, but when she looked at him, his face was as calm and impassive as ever.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She drew in a soft breath as she rose to her feet. “It all seems like a dream sometimes,” she said absently, “the time we spent together. Now it’s all business and money.”

  “We all have to adjust to situations,” he said. “Besides, you’ve got your career to advance. You won’t make it if you don’t hustle right now while your designs are hot. I think you know that.”

  “I know it.” She smoothed her skirt. “I suppose I should thank you for letting me give my whole attention to designing.”

  “Yes, you should,” he said shortly. “But I can’t claim credit for it.”

  “Does your mother know about me?” she asked.

  He nodded. Then he laughed. “At first she was obsessed with protecting me from you. She thought you were a gold digger.”

  Her eyes shot to his face. “And do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  But he didn’t sound convinced. She stared at him with misgivings. She’d said that her career came first, that she wanted success and money. Had those assertions undermined the impression he’d had of her and poisoned his mind against her? He loved his mother. A few words from her could do untold damage. Apparently it already had.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll be in touch. Pay attention when the publicity people talk, will you?”

  “Yes, I’ll do that,” she said, her tone only a little strained.

>   He nodded, and dismissed her with a faint smile. But after she left, he couldn’t help wondering if her single-track mind on the subject of her career hadn’t prompted her into playing up to him. She felt something for him, that was obvious. But behind it, there was always that competitive leap for glory and fame. She hadn’t seemed to mind when his visits to her apartment stopped, or when he’d stopped seeing so much of her. Once Ivory made it to the top—and she almost had—would she still want a man so much older than she?

  Ivory went back to her office feeling torn between glory and despair. Curry might care for her, but he was becoming a stranger. He hadn’t sounded convincing at all when he’d said he didn’t believe she was using him for her career’s sake. She wanted a career, yes, but not without Curry. All the money and glory on earth weren’t going to make up for the lack of him in her life, even if they protected her from her mother and made everyone in Harmony, Texas, take a second look at her.

  She was coached for two days on how to handle the media without flinching or giving away anything she didn’t want to. She learned to push aside probing questions with other questions or with artful pauses and hedging. She was nervous at first and suffered from lack of confidence, but she was assured that she would learn as she went along.

  Tim was excited to hear that she was going to be on television. He was the same boy he had been, but there were rough edges to him that she hadn’t seen before. He was having a bad time of it at school. People knew he was HIV-positive; some were kind, others cautiously friendly as long as it didn’t require being too close to him. Others were callous and unfeeling, with no reservations about voicing their fear.

  She put an arm around him as they sat on the shelter’s steps and looked up through the haze of pollution to the clear summer skies above.

  “One day they’ll find a cure,” she assured the boy. “And you’ll be whole and healthy again.”

  He shrugged, staring down at his shoes. “Think so?”

  “Yes. You have to think so, too.”

  “I hate school,” he said. “I’m glad it’s out for the summer. But it won’t be long until we start again now, and I don’t want to go back.”