“All I can say is that it’s not Benjamin Kross,” I say with an air of finality, like this interview is over. “Paige was only spending time with Benjamin as a friend. I can’t speak for his interest in my sister, but take it from me Paige Forrester is not romantically interested in Benjamin Kross.”
“How about you?” someone calls out. “How’s the little sister’s love life?”
I laugh. “Well, I’ve got several guy friends, but I’m not ready for anything serious.”
Fortunately the rest of the questions are fairly innocuous and mostly in regard to the show. As the crowd dwindles and interest fades, I thank them for their time, remove the microphone, and excuse myself.
“Why did you tell them that?” Paige demands when I join her and Fran in a little side room where they’ve been sitting and listening to all that I said. I can tell she’s nervous, and probably more scared than she’ll admit.
“I wanted to lead them off the Benjamin trail,” I tell her.
“That’s a good idea,” Fran agrees. “It’s okay to stir some curiosity about Paige’s love life. After all, we don’t want to cut the press loose from us. Publicity is publicity.”
Paige sighs with a sad expression. “I guess.”
“I told Paige that she’s going to take the rest of the day off,” Fran tells me.
“What about our interviews?”
“They’re fairly small ones.” Fran smiles at me. “I think you can handle them.”
“Alone?”
Fran nods. “You just handled the London press alone. Surely you can handle a couple of small-potato interviews.”
“I appreciate it, Erin.” Paige makes a weak smile. “I’ll get it back together by tomorrow. I promise.”
I study her and wonder what happens if she can’t get it back together. But then I remind myself that she always gets it back together. She’s the queen of bounce-back.
The first interview turns out to be just the sort of thing I really like. Ashley Amberly is only twenty-seven and a relatively new designer who is refreshingly green. She only uses fabrics made from renewable resources in her designs—like bamboo, wood fibers, hemp, recycled plastic, polyester, organic cotton, and linen. But she has a huge British following.
“Most of my customers are young people,” she tells me as we’re winding down. “So I try to keep my designs affordable. Although I’ve been encouraged to create a couture line for next year’s London Fashion Week. I’m thinking about it.”
“What would be the advantage of participating in Fashion Week?” I ask her. “I mean, since you already have a solid consumer base of environmentally conscious customers.”
She frowns as if thinking. “You know … that’s a good question. On one hand, it’s flattering to be invited to the ball, but on the other hand it might be offensive to some of my green groupies.” She smiles. “Not to mention PETA.”
“I know Stella McCartney is a strong supporter of animal rights.”
Ashley nods vigorously. “I’m a huge fan of Stella McCartney.”
“Have you heard of Granada Greenwear?”
“Oh, yes. Granada’s been an inspiration too.”
“Has anyone ever considered doing a Green Fashion Week?” I ask.
Ashley’s eyes light up. “That is a brilliant idea, Erin.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “I know I’d want to attend it.”
“If you don’t mind, I might steal that idea and attempt to run with it.”
“You’re more than welcome. Just promise to keep me posted. Maybe On the Runway could participate with you.”
We talk for a while longer and Ashley’s enthusiasm is contagious. But finally Fran gives me the wrap-it-up sign and I thank Ashley for her time.
“That was great,” Ashley tells me as we’re removing our mics. “You do a fabulous interview, Erin. Your big sister better watch out.”
“Thanks. But I don’t think she has too much to worry about.”
“Nice work,” Fran tells me as we drive to the next appointment.
“Ashley was just my cup of tea,” I admit. “That made it easy.”
“The next one should be fairly straightforward too.” She looks at her notes. “Gregory Maxwell is a popular British jewelry designer, but since he’s in Thailand, his assistant Valerie will show us his studio.”
“Do we know anything about his style?”
“Just that he’s quite popular in the UK.” Fran shrugs. “Let’s wing it and hope that this Valerie is a talker.”
Thankfully Valerie, who turns out to be Maxwell’s daughter and not much older than me, is a talker, as well as an apprentice jewelry maker. And her dad’s work turns out to be absolutely lovely. Again, I think I got lucky because his nature-inspired designs are just the kinds of things I like. He imitates the beauty of flowers, plants, birds, fish, and small animals, combining his graceful designs with precious and semi-precious gems to create some absolutely charming pieces.
“I love this,” I say as I examine a silver vine-like necklace with seed pearls posing as pussy willows.
“Our designs are primarily sold in the UK, but we’ve also expanded into a number of international markets,” Valerie tells us. “We’ve recently become rather well liked in Asia. My father’s work became internationally known in the nineties when some of his pieces were worn by Kate Holloway.”
So for the most part, and to my relief, Valerie plays both tour guide and narrator. Finally we’re done and I’m thanking her.
“I must’ve seemed like such a chatterbox,” she says as she hands back her mic. “I was just so thrilled about this opportunity. I hope I didn’t muck anything up for your show.”
I smile. “No, you were perfect. We’ll send you a DVD of the show when it airs. That way your father can see what a great job you did today.”
It’s nearly six by the time we get back to the hotel. As we’re walking through the lobby, I’m surprised to see that I have a phone message on my iPhone. And even more surprised when I see it’s from Dylan Marceau.
“I’m going to swing by the gift store,” Fran tells me. “Need anything?”
“No. I’m fine.” As she heads off, I find a quiet corner and I listen to the message.
“Erin, you’re probably wondering why I’m calling you. A little British bird just told me something this morning … and I was hoping you could give me a quick call.” Then he leaves his cell phone number and I glance around, worried that someone might be around to eavesdrop on my conversation if I return his call. But I seem to be the only one here. And if I go to my room to call, the connectivity is sketchy at best, plus Paige might walk in on me. I’m pretty sure this is going to be about her. I decide to just get this over with.
“Erin?” he says happily. “How are you?”
“Okay.”
“I heard about your press conference.”
“Seriously? Who told you?”
“A Brit fashion friend. But never mind that. I’d seen some of the other stories about Paige and Benjamin in the news lately … and I think it was very nice of you to help your sister out of that mess.”
“Well, it was kind of turning into everyone’s mess.” I tell him about Kate Moss’s cancellation.
“Maybe I could give Kate a call,” he says. “She’s an old friend.”
“You seem to have a lot of friends.”
He laughs. “Well, it’s helpful in this business. I consider you a good friend too, Erin.”
“Thanks, Dylan. Same back at you.” I glance around again, but I still seem to be alone.
“So … my friend told me you said that Paige is romantically interested in someone else …” His voice trails off.
“Uh … right.”
“I don’t want to twist your arm to tell me about this mystery guy. But I want you to know you can trust me. I really care about Paige. Even though she broke my heart in Paris, I still want the very best for her life and—”
“She broke up with you?”
&nbs
p; There’s a long pause. “Well, it’s not a tale I want everyone to hear. No guy likes getting dumped. But since you’re her sister … I assumed this would be old news to you anyway.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying Paige dumped you?”
“That might be an overstatement. As I recall I saw the writing on the wall that night. But, being a guy with a fair amount of pride, I probably acted as if the breakup was mutual.”
“But it wasn’t mutual?” I’m trying to wrap my head around this.
“So what are you saying, Erin? Did Paige tell you a different version?”
I try to remember now. “Well, to start with she told me it was mutual. Back when she and I agreed to give up any serious relationships with guys and just focus on the show.”
“Yes, that’s about what she said that evening … or what I refer to in my mind as the last supper.”
“But you’re saying she broke up with you?”
Another long pause. “What do you know? What is Paige saying to you, Erin?”
I consider this. Upstairs my sister is pining away. She’s missed a whole day of work … she cried for more than an hour this morning … she admitted that she misses Dylan, that she thinks she loves him. But what am I supposed to do about it?
“Who is this guy, Erin? You can trust me. I swear I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”
“Oh, Dylan … maybe you should talk to Paige.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I say eagerly. “You really, really should talk to Paige. In fact, I have a very strong feeling she’ll be extremely glad to hear your voice.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. I just think this is something I need to stay out of, you know?”
“I understand.”
“She’s probably in her room right now. You might want to call the landline though, since our cell phone service is a little sketchy in the hotel.”
“You’re sure it’s a good idea?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Thanks, Erin.”
“Sure. But maybe you shouldn’t tell Paige you talked to me, okay? I don’t want her to think I’m meddling.”
“You got it. I’ll just start out the conversation low-key. Like I’m just calling to say hey … and see where we go from there.”
“Sounds good.” Then I give him Paige’s room number. But after I hang up, I wonder what I’ve done.
“Hey, you still down here?” Fran comes around the corner and takes me by surprise.
“Oh, yeah,” I say quickly. “Just using the phone down here since it doesn’t work that well in my room.”
“Everything okay at home?” she asks as I walk with her to the elevators.
“Sure. Everything’s fine.”
“You really did a good job today, Erin,” she says as she pushes the button to our floor.
“Thanks. It was actually kind of fun. But I’ll be relieved to have Paige up and running again.”
“Do you think she’s going to snap out of it?” Fran looks at me curiously. “She seems to be in a quite a slump. I didn’t know this publicity crud would get to her like this.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine tomorrow.” I give Fran a hopeful smile. “She’s pretty resilient.”
“I hope you’re right. We’ve got several great appointments back-to-back tomorrow, starting first thing in the morning. And the opening fashion show is tomorrow evening. After that we’re booked with style shows throughout the day Saturday clear into Sunday night. If Paige doesn’t kick it into gear and if we miss out on these opportunities, we’ll be short on material when we get home next week. And Helen will not be pleased.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about Paige,” I tell her as we get out of the elevator.
“I hope you’re right.” She looks at her watch, then covers a yawn. “I plan to order in my dinner tonight. I’ve already arranged for breakfast to be delivered to Paige’s suite tomorrow. The plan is to meet there for hair and makeup by eight o’clock sharp.”
“Gotcha.” I make a mock solute then turn toward my room. As I unlock and open the door, I try to imagine Paige’s surprise when Dylan calls her out of the blue. Will she be happy, or shocked? Or will she figure out that I’ve been involved and get mad for my interference? With nothing else to do, I shoot up a silent prayer and tiptoe into my room where I’m tempted to lean my head against the adjoining door. Instead, I grab up my iPod, slip in the earbuds and, crossing my fingers, fall backward onto my bed where I intend to crash until hunger takes over.
Chapter
18
“What a gorgeous day,” Paige says cheerfully as I come into her room through the adjoining door. I’m still in my pajamas and barely awake. But in here, all the drapes are pulled open and bright morning light is pouring in. The hair and makeup people have also arrived, and are milling around.
“Uh-huh,” I say sleepily.
“What is wrong with your hair?” Luis frowns at me.
“It’s clean,” I say sheepishly. “I washed it last night.”
He shakes his head, pointing toward the kitchenette. “Go wet yourself down like a good girl. I’ll bring you a towel.”
I nod and pad into the kitchen, turn on the water, adjust the temperature, then stick my head under the flow. I know how much Luis hates it when I wash my hair at night. I wake up looking like a scarecrow and it takes him longer to style it. But I like showering at night. At least my hair is short so it dries quickly.
“Here you go.” He drapes a towel around my soggy head, then leans over and whispers in my ear. “What or who do you think is responsible for our Little Miss Merry Sunshine this morning?”
I wrap the towel tighter then stand up with a grin. “The sunshine perhaps?”
He rolls his eyes. “If only the sunshine were capable of such miracles … the whole planet would be deliriously happy most of the time.”
“We have a busy morning,” Paige chirps as Shauna works on her makeup. “By the way, Erin, Fran said you did great yesterday. Thanks for covering for me!”
“You’re welcome.” I stop by where some food is set up and help myself to a muffin and a yogurt, which I plan to munch on while Luis does my hair. “It was actually kind of fun. Where is Fran anyway?”
“Getting some decent coffee downstairs.” Luis wraps the styling cape around my shoulders. “Shauna and I threatened to go on strike if we had to keep drinking the stuff that’s in our rooms.”
“I offered to make them some here,” Paige says, “but Fran said we need to hurry and get ready. I laid out an outfit for you on my bed, Erin. Business casual for the day, and then we’ll come back and switch into something more festive for the fashion show tonight.”
“You seem extra happy this morning,” I say a bit cautiously.
“Oh, I am.” She turns to me with a sunshiny face. “I really, really am.”
“Care to share with the class?” Luis teases as he aims the blow dryer at my head.
“Not yet.” She gives him a catty smile. “But maybe in time.”
Well, I have no doubt that her change in mood is thanks to Dylan. I can’t say I’m not appreciative, but this sudden act of secrecy is an interesting twist. Although, I can’t say that I blame her after all the questionable media coverage she’s had lately. Even though I’m sure we can trust Luis and Shauna, loose lips might still sink ships. On the Runway’s ship is barely back to floating again as it is.
“It’s such a nice day,” I say as Luis rubs some product into my hair, “I think I’ll get a hop-on, hop-off pass.”
“A what?” Paige asks.
“It’s a day pass for the double-decker buses,” I explain. “The concierge told me about it. If you get one, you can just hop onto a bus and ride for a while, then hop off when you reach your destination.”
“That sounds fun,” Paige says. “Why don’t you get me one too?”
“Get you one what?” Fran asks as she comes into the room with a cardboar
d carrier full of coffees.
“A double-decker bus pass,” Paige tells her.
Then I explain the on and off concept. “I thought if we had a break or two today, which looks possible according to the schedule I studied last night, it might be fun to play tourist today. Especially since the sun is shining.”
“I asked Erin to get me one too,” Paige tells her.
“Really?” Fran looks surprised, and I am too. Because this does not sound like Paige to me.
“I plan to ride on top of the bus,” I warn Paige, “out in the open air so I can really see things. You sure you want to do that?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“You girls better take a scarf for your hair,” Luis warns us.
“Oh, we can do touch-ups before each event,” Shauna tells him. “Let the girls have some fun.”
“Maybe we should send a camera along too,” Fran says. “That would be a fun snippet to have on the London shows. I think I’ll call down and get us several passes. This sounds like a great idea, Erin.”
Now I’m feeling even more enthused. “I already checked the bus route map,” I tell her. “It runs right through some of the areas we’ll be in today. So I think it’s doable.”
“And tomorrow, before the first fashion show, we should get some shots of you girls in front of Buckingham Palace … some flirting with the Beefeaters.”
“What’s a beef eater?” Paige asks as Shauna removes the makeup bib and gives it a shake.
“The guards in front of the palace,” Fran tells her. “The ones with the tall furry hats.”
“Actually, that’s not quite right,” I correct her. “The Beefeaters guard the Tower of London.”
“How do you know that?” Fran questions.
“I learned it on my tour the other day. A lot of people mistake the palace guards for Beefeaters, but that’s not accurate. Although the palace guards do wear those tall bearskin hats.”
“So what’s up with the hats?” Paige comes over to wait for Luis to finish up on me.
Luis gives a final misting of spray to my hair. “There, maybe that will stand up to riding around on top of busses.”
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