Bri was sitting on the floor cross-legged folding scarves.
Margaux sat down beside her. “Selkies forever.” She picked up a scarf and began folding it. “Do you ever miss your old life?”
Bri looked sideways at her. “Which one? The modeling one or the one where fast living nearly did me in?”
“The modeling.”
“Sometimes. But I spend most of my time investing in my new life.” She tossed a folded scarf into a wicker basket and turned to face Margaux. “Are you missing New York?”
“I don’t know. When I’m here, I think I can live like this forever, then I see an ad, or someone calls, even if it’s someone I’m not interested in, and part of me is envious.”
“It’ll pass mostly. I didn’t have a choice, you do. And if you want my two cents, I think you’ve made the right one. Life is too short to grapple your way through it. Look around. This is you. Your business, your designs. And you have a man and boy who love you.”
“It’s too early to even talk about love.”
“For you maybe. But that kid looks at you and sees Mommy. And Nick, well, he might play things close to his chest, but when he looks at you . . . honey, that’s love.” She wrapped her arm around Margaux’s neck and pulled her in for a hug. “Count your blessings, girlfriend. Count your blessings.”
Bri squeezed and let go. “Now, make yourself useful and start folding.”
An hour later, the second call came. A larger house and more tempting until she looked around the half-furnished shop. “Thanks so much. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”
Bri shook her head and kept working.
Instead of going straight to Margaux’s after work, Nick drove to the promontory above the jetty. He walked out to the rocks just as he had twenty years ago, Private Nick Prescott with his whole life before him. Only tonight he was wearing running shoes and jeans instead of army regulation boots and uniform and much of his life was behind him.
As he looked down on the beach, he could almost see Ben sitting on the lifeguard stand, Margaux and her friends laughing and flirting. Elusive ghosts. Now Margaux was in his life, but would she stay? Something had shifted after that phone call. She said it was nothing, but it was. He could tell just the way her energy sparked while she was talking to them.
All day he thought about it. He was afraid she was slipping back to a place where like the girl on the beach she’d be too far out of reach.
He looked out to the horizon trying to dispel the sick feeling in his stomach. Maybe he was being too premature, as if he’d even expected her to leave all along. Because he still couldn’t believe she would be interested in him.
Maybe he was acting like some lovesick teenager. She probably hadn’t given that phone call another thought, while he hadn’t been able to get it off his mind. It was only one call; surely she realized that her life was here with him—and Connor.
There were several women and two photographers waiting outside Margaux on Tuesday morning.
“Better than Filene’s Basement,” Linda crowed, and hurried across to Le Coif to peek out the door at the customers.
“Ready?” Margaux exhaled and shook her hands to dispel her nerves. Beside her, Bri looked cool and unruffled.
“Never let ’em see you sweat, Mags. Stand here looking generous but slightly aloof. I’ll take care of the sales.” She unlocked the door. “Good morning. Welcome to Margaux.”
After an hour Margaux was still a nervous wreck. And her jaw was tired from smiling. There was a continuous flow of customers. Some of them even bought. A few of them bought a lot. But it was only the first day. Could it last?
By early afternoon, she couldn’t take any more and fled upstairs to sit with Adelaide and the other seamstresses.
Adelaide looked up from the camisole she was hand-hemming. “It sounds very busy down there.”
“It is, but I can’t take the stress. I don’t know how Bri does it.”
Connor left his coloring book and came to lean up against her. “What’s the matter?” He looked worried.
“Nothing at all. I’m not very good at selling things.”
He patted her hand. “That’s okay. You can make good clothes.”
“Thanks.”
He climbed onto her lap.
“Connor, get down this instant.”
Connor looked at Margaux. She ruffled his hair. “You little manipulator. It’s fine, Adelaide.” It was better than fine. It felt just as she imagined it would be when she had kids. Connor wasn’t hers, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his company.
The seamstresses left at four. Margaux and Adelaide were closing the sewing room and Nick had just called to say he was on his way over when her cell phone rang again. Thinking it was Nick, she took the call.
“Margaux, Sam Breed from S and B here. I had no idea of what was happening over at M Atelier. I wish you’d called me.”
Sam Breed. Sam Breed was calling her? Stay cool, she told herself. “Sam, what a surprise.” Adelaide shooed Connor into the sewing room and shut the door. Margaux started down the stairs. “How have you been?”
“Hectic as always. Seems like the year is just one long preparation and presentation.” He laughed.
Easy for him to say. He had a job. S and B was one of the most prestigious houses in New York.
“Things are hectic here, too,” she said. The front door opened. Another customer, she turned her back to them.
“I saw the article and the pictures. Very interesting.”
Margaux frowned, not a good word when describing couture.
“So, Margaux. Why don’t you drop by my office this week. We’ll talk.”
He wanted to talk? She willed herself not to sound too interested. Stay calm. Stay in the bargaining seat. She clicked into couture mode.
“Let me see . . .” She played for time. Let him think she was checking her calendar. Should she go talk to him? She’d just gotten back on her feet. Was this an info quest or could he be seriously interested in her.
“Friday’s the earliest I could make it.”
“Friday’s fine. Say ten o’clock.”
She smiled to herself. “Better make it eleven.”
“Great. Can’t wait.”
Margaux hung up, stunned. Sam Breed had called her for an appointment. It could only mean one thing. She was back. She was really back. Smiling, she slipped her cell into her shoulder bag and turned around.
Nick was standing in the doorway, unmoving. Like the old Nick, his eyes were hard, his jaw set.
“Hey, that was quick. You’re never going to guess who just called me.”
“Probably not.”
“Sam Breed. One of the most important people in the industry.”
“Great.” But he didn’t sound like he thought it was great.
“He wants to meet with me on Friday.”
“He’s coming here?”
“Of course not. I’ll have to go down to the city.”
“I thought that you . . .” He gestured to the new shop.
“I do. But this is a huge coup. Sam Breed is interested in me. This is big. It’s like . . .” She searched for an example that would make him understand. “Like Yale calling you to teach.”
“I could commute to Yale.”
“That’s not the point. It would be an offer you couldn’t refuse to at least listen to.”
“If that’s what you think, you don’t know me at all.”
She did know him and she knew that if it came to his family and his duty to them, he would give up what he wanted most. What did it say about her that she was even willing to go to New York to talk to Sam Breed.
Jude was her only family and she would be happy for her. Nick had never mentioned that he wanted her to be part of his family. She cleared her throat.
“I just want to hear what he has to say. Be excited for me.”
“I am.” He looked past her shoulder. “Come on, Connor. I’ll take you for pizza.”
Connor stood on the bottom stair, a piece of dark blue construction paper in his hand, his lower lip stuck out. “You’re fighting.”
Margaux knelt beside him. “No, honey, we were just discussing something.”
He looked at her, then looked to Nick and back. “Here.” He shoved a piece of paper at her. He’d pasted Day-Glo stars across the page. “It’s the Milky Way. For your dresses.”
“Thank you, it’s beautiful.”
“Come on, sport. We gotta get going.”
“Can Margaux come?”
“Not tonight. She has other things she needs to do.”
“Nick,” Margaux said, not believing he was cutting her off so easily.
“See you later.”
He hurried Connor outside.
Bri was standing in the door to Margaux, her messenger bag over her shoulder. “I have to go feed the animals. Oh, Mags, think about what you’re doing.” She shook her head and walked out the front door.
Margaux closed up and went home to wait for Nick. She was feeling a little confused. No, angry. Why couldn’t Bri and Nick be excited for her? It wasn’t like she’d deserted them. Sam Breed was big stuff. She had to see what he was offering. It could be the opportunity of a lifetime.
So why did she feel so miserable.
But not so miserable that she called him back to cancel the appointment. A few months ago when she thought she had no choice, the idea of starting over wasn’t so frightening. But now that a comeback was a possibility, the idea of cutting off her final tie with the New York fashion industry filled her with dread. What if she failed here? What would she do then?
Jude called. “I heard you got some nice offers from New York.”
“Yes, and everybody’s pissed at me.”
“They care about you and want what’s best for you.”
“What is that?”
“I can’t answer that. Only you can know for sure.”
“I have to just go see, don’t I?”
“You know I’ll support you whatever you decide.” But she sounded disappointed. “You’ll figure it out. I didn’t see Nick’s truck there.”
“He isn’t here.”
“Call him. Talk things over.”
Margaux hung up. She didn’t call him. He knew she was expecting him. And if he didn’t care enough to at least talk to her . . . This is what you get for placing your trust in another man. Didn’t you learn anything from Louis?
Margaux clapped her hands over her ears trying to drive out those betraying thoughts. Nick was nothing like Louis. She had brought this on herself. Why couldn’t she just be content with what she had? She was content, more than content . . . for the last two months. But would it last? Could it last? One unexpected phone call and already her new life was unraveling.
Nick came in late that night. Margaux was already in bed. She reached out for him and he came to her. They didn’t speak. Margaux was afraid they had nothing to say.
Twenty-six
I don’t get it,” said Brianna, frowning at a mannequin she was attempting to dress. She gestured around the boutique. “I thought this is what you wanted. Your own line, your own house. To be able to experiment and not just stick to trends.”
“I did. I do. But this is Sam Breed. He has access to huge distribution. We could have Sunrise dresses and Driftwood pants in every boutique and department store in the States, maybe overseas. Aren’t you the least bit curious about what he wants?”
“No, I’m not. I know this business, too. Lots of talk. It doesn’t mean shit.”
“I know, that’s why I’m just going to talk to him. Nothing is decided. But I have to do whatever it takes to get back on top, and if that means farming myself out to the highest bidder, then—”
Brianna turned so quickly that the mannequin toppled over. “A lot of people have come to depend on you here. Just remember that. Not to mention Nick and that little boy. Are you going to walk away from them, too?”
“It doesn’t mean it’s over.”
“Doesn’t it? The fact that you’re even contemplating going back says something.”
Margaux began gathering up her designs. Her designs with the finished products surrounding her. And she was leaving them. She dashed away a tear and started to close her briefcase, saw Connor’s Milky Way picture and put it in with the rest.
She’d been so happy a few days ago. She’d felt back on track until the lure of Manhattan raised its head. She didn’t want to leave Crescent Cove, but she didn’t know if she was ready to give up everything she’d worked her whole life for.
Bri turned on her. “You have a chance to start life over with all the things important to you, and you’re throwing it back like it was garbage. Do you know how many women, hell men, would kill to have what you have?”
Margaux could only shake her head.
“Nick is one thing. He’s an adult and can fight for you if he wants. But what about that poor child? He’s totally attached to you. And you let it happen.”
“Stop! You don’t understand. I have to do this. I have to just try. I don’t have a choice.”
Brianna laughed, a harsh angry sound. “Oh, I understand. I used to tell myself that every time I took a diet pill or a line of cocaine: I have to do this, I don’t have a choice. Well, I had a choice. And I made the wrong one. I wrecked my career and I came damn close to wrecking my life.
“You have a choice, Margaux. Just make sure you can live with the one you make.”
Margaux closed her briefcase and picked it up. “Success in New York doesn’t mean I have to give up Crescent Cove.”
“I’ll tell Grace you said goodbye.”
Margaux nodded as she ran for the door. Being a New York designer was what she’d always wanted. They all knew that. So why were they acting like she was a traitor? What was the harm in looking at her options?
She made the mistake of looking back as she got in the car. The new sign, the dressed window. Her line, her store.
And if the options panned out, how could she walk away from all she had here?
Margaux sat on the jetty, hugging her knees and wondering how her life had gotten so messed up. She should be packing, checking her portfolio, but she’d been too upset to concentrate.
She should be happy, but she felt sick. How could something flip from wonderful to pure hell in the blink of an eye—in the space of one phone call.
She rested her cheek on her knees and watched the sunset, red, yellow, and orange, the hot colors on the palette, but today they felt cold. Slowly a figure emerged out of the sun’s glare, a black silhouette, and for a second Margaux’s heart stuttered and the world seemed to right itself. Then she realized it was too small to be Nick.
As it neared the jetty, the silhouette took form; Margaux sighed. Coming to vent more anger as though Bri’s outburst hadn’t been enough. She gave in to the inevitability and didn’t even attempt to avoid the confrontation.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Grace sat down beside her and gazed out at the Sound. “Bri told me you’re leaving.”
Margaux nodded, her throat was so tight she could hardly speak. “I guess you’re pissed, too.”
“No. Just confused. I thought you were happy here.”
“I was.”
“What happened?”
“Sam Breed called, he wants to talk to me. He’s at one of the biggest houses in New York. It could put me back in business.”
“I thought you were back in business. What about Margaux? You seemed so excited about opening your own place.”
“I was. I am. It’s just . . . I don’t know. I like working here, love the work I’ve done
here. It’s been crazy but so satisfying, the hand-dyeing, the hectic schedule, the zany everyday things that happened that you never see when you’re stuck behind a drafting table, light-years away from the finished product.”
Margaux shook her head. “I’ve been so happy with you and Bri and Jude. All of us together again. And Nick and Connor. And I love the designs I made here . . . the runway show. I loved it all.”
“But you’re going back to New York.”
“I just want to hear what he has to say. I told Bri that. I told Nick. They just assume I’m leaving for good. Nick has already written me off, Bri practically kicked me out of my own store. And if they’re so ready to throw me under the bus for one phone call, how can I trust them to stand by me when the going gets really rough? Oh God. I wish he’d never called.”
“Pretend he didn’t.”
“I can’t. I’ve failed once, and I don’t think I can stand to fail again. I can’t afford to make any mistakes. What if Margaux is a dead end? Becomes just another upscale boutique, selling overpriced clothing during the summer and limping along during the winter months until the next tourist season begins.”
She buried her head in her arms. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to pull it off.”
“Yeah, fear,” Grace said. “Fear is a great motivator, but not a good one.”
Margaux looked up. “I know, but it isn’t just that. New York is what I know, what I do, I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”
“You thought so a few days ago.”
“That was before— How do I know if staying here is not really the beginning of something new, but settling for less? A copout, the coward’s way out?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t have time to figure it out. I leave on Friday. At this point I’m not even sure I have a reason to come back.”
“At the risk of sounding pedantic, let me tell you a story. One that I don’t tell so listen up; you won’t hear it again. When I graduated from law school, my father insisted I go with his firm. I always wanted to be a small-town lawyer, but I caved because I thought it was the respectful thing to do.”
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