I slumped in the seat. “Battery Park, Sam.”
~*~
I stared at New York Harbor, ignoring the hordes of Manhattanites and tourists that crowded the park at lunchtime.
Had I made a mistake with this joint venture scenario? Like a large sun with a minor planet in orbit, Fletcher had come to dominate and overwhelm every aspect of my life. There’s a price to pay for everything, I knew, but…
The Statue of Liberty seemed to float above the harbor, an ironic sight considering the changes in my life. I’d traded my independence for financial stability. According to the joint venture agreement, Fletcher didn’t have to discuss the issue of factories and labor with me. He could have the clothes made wherever he pleased, without my permission.
Yet, he’d asked, and had wanted to discuss the matter, and I’d been a total bitch about the issue. Okay, it was important, but…
I’d have to get used to a fifty/fifty power split, and that meant compromise.
I took in a deep breath. Okay. Fletch had given by consulting me. I’d give back, and if that meant an apology and a lunch of roast crow, I’d pick up the knife and fork and chow down.
Chapter 12
The limo slid to a stop at the same corner where Fletch had walked out an hour before. I popped out of the car to give him a sheaf of flowering greenery. “I’m a doofus. Forgive me?”
He smiled. “Dogwood, the Virginia state flower. It’s out of season by several months. Where did you find it in New York City?”
“Oh, I won’t reveal all my secrets, but I wanted to find something special. Roses would have been too mundane for you.”
He grinned, no doubt recognizing the line he’d handed me months before. “Thank you. No one’s ever bought me flowers before.”
“Really?” I raised my brows. “I assumed you’d be inundated by bouquets from grateful women.” I got back into the limo, sliding along the leather seat.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” He followed me.
“You’re not exactly bashful.”
“Depends on the lady. You inspire me.” He slipped an arm around me. “Are we friends again?”
“Yep. And I promise to listen to your ideas. But I really feel strongly about this issue.”
“Your concerns are valid. I’ll do some research, and we may have to do some on-site factory visits to make sure the workers are treated fairly. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Seal it with a kiss?” He bent his head toward me.
I raised a hand. “Fletch, come on. We were doing so well just being business associates.”
“You think a romance is incompatible with a professional relationship?”
“God, yes. I’d never be so dumb.”
“Is Miuccia Prada dumb? Her husband runs her couture house, and their profits last year were around half a billion. If you can’t trust your honey, who can you trust?” He moved closer. “I can make you eat those words.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Please. I’ve already eaten crow and groveled once today. Isn’t that enough?”
He chuckled. “I suppose so.”
After the limo pulled up in front of the atelier, he helped me out and followed me up to the loft, then booted up his laptop while I returned to work. A few minutes later, he said, “Hey, Cara.”
“Yeah?” I looked up from uncapping a felt-tipped pen.
“We’re due a shipment of samples from Italy. Someplace called Prato. Where’s that?”
I came over to scan his screen, noting a red-flagged entry. “Prato’s a few miles from Florence.”
“Florence, hmmm?”
“Yeah. It’s been a center for textile mills for centuries, since the medieval era. Most couture fabrics are milled in Italy, many in Prato. When are the swatches due? Seems to me they’re way late.”
“They were due to be received and approved before the end of July, so they’re at least three weeks overdue. What’s going on?”
I frowned, thinking. “All the Italian mills close for the entire month of August. It’s an ancient tradition. If we didn’t get the samples August first or thereabouts, we won’t get them until after Labor Day. This isn’t good. I can’t think how I overlooked this.”
He gave me an apologetic smile. “You’ve had a few distractions lately. I wonder why they didn’t arrive on time?” He tapped the eraser end of a pencil against his teeth. He looked over at Maggie’s desk. Empty, but she wouldn’t give him any answers, in any event.
“Beats me. Check out when they were paid,” I said with a faint smile. “Money’s been tight around here, you know.”
He sighed. “Guess I’ll have to follow the paper trail.” An hour later, he asked, “Hey, can I interrupt you again?” He stroked my shoulder with one of the flowering branches I’d given him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Maggie, who’d returned, watching us flirt. Fletcher had the gall to wink at her.
I chuckled. “Sure, you can interrupt me any time.”
“Let’s take a walk.”
Huh. What was up? I put on a big straw hat against the August sun and went with him. As we left the atelier, I saw that Sam still hadn’t left to pick up Natalie. Fletcher led the way to the limo, which I appreciated. This neighborhood wasn’t the best place for a stroll.
Walking on Fletcher’s left, I tripped over the extended legs of one of the neighborhood’s more fetching denizens. Fletch’s hand shot out, steadying me as the bum drew in his legs. The derelict laughed.
I glared. “Hey, you.”
“Gotta handout, lady?”
“If I did, I’d give it to someone who needs it. You may smell, look, and dress as badly as the average scumbag, but you’re no street person, dude.” I nudged his ankle with the toe of my sandal.
The bum lifted his bottle, gulped, and burped. “Says who?”
“Says I. Your teeth are a dead giveaway. They’re perfect.”
“Maybe I’m a recent addition to the down-and-out brigade.” He shot an uneasy look over my shoulder, meeting Fletch’s gaze.
My suspicions grew. “Oh, please. I demand to know why you’re stalking me, or I’m gonna call the cops, right here, right now.” I pulled my cellphone out of my satchel.
Fletch cleared his throat. “Show’s over, Tony.”
“Guess so.” The derelict jumped to his feet. “You can put the phone away, lady. I work for your pal, Mr. Wolf.”
My jaw slackened, and my hands lost their grip on both phone and satchel.
Fletch smiled blandly. “Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it? Cara, meet Tony Ramirez, head of security for Fletcher Tool and Gear.” He helped me pick up my stuff.
Ramirez bowed from the waist, the courtesy at odds with his two-week beard and greasy, torn clothing. An older man, Fletcher’s security specialist had dark hair flecked with gray. “At your service. I worked for the New York City police for twenty-five years before I retired to work for Mr. Wolf. I still have some useful contacts.”
“He’s been keeping an eye on you since after your workshop was vandalized,” Fletcher said.
My jaw tightened involuntarily. “Whatever for?”
“Making sure you’re okay.” Fletcher opened the limo door for me. Angry, I didn’t want to get in there with him, but if I resisted, I’d be just as rude as was he.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Fletcher.” Ramirez resumed his post, leaning against the wall near the metal security door of my building.
“Thank you,” I said through gritted teeth as Fletcher shoved me into the limo.
Sam shut the door on us, and Fletcher wasted no time in raising the glass partition which separated driver from passengers. No doubt he’d figured out what was coming.
“No wonder you knew our schedule. You’ve been watching us. How dare you?”
“Honey, it was for your own good.”
“You are incredibly patronizing. Can’t you just mind your own business?”
“If I minded my own business, you wouldn’t
be here. You’d be in jail, facing felony drug charges.”
“Oh, please. They would have found out that I reported the theft of my I.D. before the bust went down.”
“I saved you a lot of trouble.” His voice rose. “Should I have let you rot in the slammer? A night or two in jail with Manhattan’s most wanted might have sweetened your temper.”
“You are unbelievably deceptive. Remember the settlement conference at Muckenmyer’s office? You had the gall to get on my case about keeping you under surveillance. When were you going to tell me you were doing the same thing?”
He waved his hands around. “I just never found the right moment, but I’m not sorry I butted in. After I heard about the vandalism, I couldn’t just sit back while you were being hurt. It made me crazy. I had to do something.”
“So why have you dragged me out here? I have a lot to do, you know. I have no time to drive around scenic downtown Manhattan or meet your assorted employees.”
“You need to calm down before I talk about this new issue. Do you want a cold drink?” He took a soda out of the limo’s fridge.
I took it and popped the can’s top. “I’m perfectly calm. Just spit it out, okay?”
“All right, I will. A lot of paperwork was lost when the vandal destroyed your workshop. I’ve been unable to recreate the most recent transactions with your mills in Italy.”
I swallowed. “What’s the big deal? We have computer records, don’t we?”
He hesitated. “Yes, but if there’s a dispute going over international borders, the computer records might not help us. I think we should go to Italy to check this out.”
“Italy! I don’t have time to go to Italy. I have a runway show to put on in just ten weeks.”
“I don’t understand. Don’t other couturiers go to the mills for regular inspection trips?”
“True. But I’ve never felt I could take the time.”
“You close the atelier for Labor Day weekend, don’t you?”
“Ye-es.” I sipped from the can.
“What do you and Natalie normally do for holiday weekends? Go upstate to visit your parents?”
“Yeah, well, I guess I could take the time away, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable sending her alone on the train. I know her father might, but I’m more careful.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice. Nat had been shortchanged, and I wouldn’t let her down. Not for anything.
“Maybe your parents could come to the city.”
I shook my head sadly. “Not very easily. My dad’s in a wheelchair. He has M.S. Didn’t you know?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He touched my hand. “So much for Mike Muckenmyer and his fabulous dossier. No wonder you and Nat spend your free time upstate. How ’bout this? Sam can drive Natalie to Owasco for the weekend, if she wants.”
“I guess.”
“Or I can see if my mother is willing to come up from Darkrider Farm for Labor Day. She likes to shop in Manhattan. Better yet, we can send Natalie to the farm for a few days. Does she like horses?”
“The only horses Natalie knows are the ones that pull the carriages at Central Park.”
“Yeah, but most teenage girls are mad about horses.”
“She does love animals. Um, I think school is supposed to start the week after.”
“Even better. We can put her on a plane at J.F.K. when we leave, and pick her up there when we return. She’ll have a special little vacation on a horse farm to tell all her friends about when she goes back to school.”
“I don’t know, Fletch.”
“I do. You’ve got to stop babying Natalie. She has to grow up, do new things, and learn to be more independent.”
I fiddled with my hair, blond today, and ruminated about Nat, Kenney and the whole damn thing. If only Fletch knew… She was probably more independent than I liked to think about. “You’re probably right, but I hate to leave. Time always seems to run so short. As soon as the fabrics come in, we have to make the factory prototypes and get them shipped. The weeks always seem to compress between Labor Day and Halloween.”
“But it sounds like you can’t get much done without the samples. Plus, if we’re on site, you can make your decisions right there instead of in New York. You’ll gain about ten days.”
“Not really. The light’s different in Italy.”
“I don’t understand. Same sun, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I promise you, a lemon-yellow linen in Italy looks mustardy in New York. The light’s clearer there. I can’t explain it, but I know it’s true.”
“Then we can bring the swatches back home with us and email them your decisions. Either way, you gain a few days and I can make some useful contacts for us in Italy. So how ’bout it?”
“I guess so. It shouldn’t take too long, huh?”
“No. If we leave Saturday morning, and return Tuesday, you miss only one day of work here. We’ll be a little jet-lagged on Wednesday, but we can handle that.”
“Why would we leave Saturday? No one in Italy works on Sunday.”
“Jet lag, honey. Sunday will be an adjustment day for us, and we can do a little sightseeing. You’re an artist. Don’t you want to see the Uffizi, the Pitti, the Ghiberti doors and Michelangelo’s David?”
I chuckled. “Okay, you got me there, partner. The way to an artist’s heart must be through her eyes.”
“Good.” Fletch sat back as Sam stopped the limo and Natalie got in. “I’ll call my secretary and she’ll make the arrangements, as soon as this young lady decides what she wants.”
“What young lady. Me?” She darted a suspicious glance at him.
“Nat, I’m going away on business over Labor Day weekend. What do you want to do? You can stay in Manhattan, go to Grandma and Grandpa, or go to Virginia.” I offered her the can of soda.
“Virginia? What’s in Virginia?” Natalie took the soda can to drink.
“My family’s horse farm, Darkrider Farm.” He smiled at Natalie. “How’d you like to ride real Thoroughbred hunters, Nat?”
She tipped her head on one side. “That’d be cool. I like animals.”
“You do? I’m surprised you don’t have a dog or a cat,” he said.
I kicked him to shut him up.
“Oh, that would be irresponsible,” Natalie said. “For one thing, Hillary and Chelsea wouldn’t like a cat, and a dog would be lonely in our townhouse. We’re gone all day long. Nope, birds only. We kill fish.”
“Then you’ll have fun on the farm. We have horses, dogs and cats. Probably a few rats and mice, too,” His tone was wry, and I gathered that the rodents were uninvited. He continued, “My brother, Griffin, is a vet. He can tell you all about them.”
“Your brother’s a vet? No kidding!” Natalie looked starry-eyed.
I smiled. “Natalie wants to work with animals when she grows up.”
“Okay, Labor Day weekend’s settled,” Fletch said.
“What about Grandma and Grandpa?” Natalie asked. “They’re used to seeing us on holiday weekends.” She sipped the soda, then handed the can back to me.
I was gratified by her concern and said, “Grandpa had a good week, so maybe we can have a weekend to do something a little different. Remember, honey, Sam can drive you upstate if that’s what you want. It’s up to you. Do you want to talk to Grandma about it?”
Nat chewed on the end of her braid. “I don’t want to hurt their feelings, but I really want to see the horses.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle Grandma and Grandpa, and you’ll fly down to Richmond out of J.F.K. at the same time we leave.” I glanced at Fletch.
He leaned back in his seat, giving me an easy smile. Of course—he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. “Don’t worry. I’ll arrange everything.”
Chapter 13
As Natalie boarded the flight to Richmond, my heart clenched a little. Irrational, I knew. Nat had flown across the country alone several times, since her deadbeat father was unwilling to go to the trouble of
accompanying her on her few trips out to see me or my parents. However, I guess I just couldn’t help feeling a pang or two as I watched my baby fly away on a jet plane, even though I knew she’d be okay. One meeting with Veronica Wolf and the younger Wolf, Griffin, had told me Nat would be safe and secure in their care.
Besides, Natalie needed to grow up whole and independent. This flight alone to Richmond was an important step for both of us. Well, okay, more for me than for her.
Turning to Fletch, I beamed at him to disguise my teary eyes. “I guess it’s time to make our way over to our terminal.”
Our flight was scheduled to leave at eight in the morning, and we’d cut it close. But now I watched Fletch settle into his seat as though transatlantic journeys on luxurious private jets were commonplace. He handed his jacket to a flight attendant, who also took my straw hat.
Fletch quirked a brow at my hair. “That’s what they call fire-engine red, isn’t it?”
I grinned at him. My flaming head surmounted a calf-length, flowing summer dress in a yellow and green flower print, with a white bolero jacket to keep me from the chill of heavily air conditioned planes and airports. The contacts today were leaf-green, matching the dress. “I hear that there’s hordes of tourists in Florence. I didn’t want you to lose me in the crowds.”
“No chance of that, honey, no matter what color your hair is.” Opening his briefcase, he took out the morning’s editions of Wall Street Journal and Investor’s Business Daily. “Window or aisle?”
“Oh, I don’t care. Isn’t the view mostly ocean?”
“For the most part, but we should also have a nice view of the French coast and countryside before we land. How ’bout this? You take the window seat, and I’ll look over your shoulder.”
“It’s a deal.” I found a pen and drawing paper, then stuffed my satchel under the seat and buckled the safety belt.
I’d traveled by plane before but I’d never seen the level of service the private jet provided. We didn’t have to stay belted into our seats, but could move around and lounge on sofas, if we preferred. Which we did. Neither of us wanted the heavy breakfast the attendants offered, preferring our usual French roast coffee and orange juice, followed by fresh croissants. Sprawled on a love seat, absorbed in his reading, Fletch looked as comfortable with his coffee and newspaper there as he would in my atelier. An adaptable man, I thought.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 164