‘But what headpiece could I wear?’ Krystie glanced around the room at the mannequin heads and glass cases that sported Sinéad’s creations.
‘You could always make something.’
Krystie looked at her, panic-stricken. ‘For tonight?’
Sinéad laughed. ‘Relax. Close your eyes. Imagine you’re standing in front of a full-length mirror wearing the dress. Your makeup is perfect and you have your jewellery on. Now, think. What way is your hair done and what can you add to make that image just perfect?’
Obediently, Krystie closed her eyes and after a few seconds her lips started to turn up in a slow smile.
‘Good,’ Sinéad said, getting a kick from her reaction. She’d never seen herself as a teacher but she was really enjoying the experience. Krystie was such an eager student, so hungry to learn. It was funny, they would probably have never met but for their love of design. They came from different worlds. She and Sheila had gone to one of the best schools in the city, whereas Krystie had gone to the local national school, taken a job and though she had achieved the same degree, Krystie had done it at night while she and Sheila studied full time and got pocket money from their father.
Had she received an application from Krystie in the post, Sinéad realised she’d probably have discarded it based on her address and education before she even looked at her work experience. The thought made her feel a bit ashamed of herself. She’d always seen herself as classless, nothing like some of the prima donnas of clients she and Sheila had had to contend with at times. Still, maybe she was no better than they were. When she’d met Krystie she’d vaguely remembered her from her college days. Even then her clothes had been edgy and fun and, most importantly, eye-catching. Her style had become even funkier now but classy, too, a look that wasn’t easy to create.
Sinéad had worried that Krystie would turn up her nose at designing the more traditional hats, but she seemed happy to try her hand at anything. The biggest problem was getting her to take a proper lunch break and work shorter hours.
Krystie opened her eyes. ‘I need to keep it simple, right?’
Sinéad nodded, smiling. ‘Exactly.’
‘Then I’ve got an idea but I need a decent hairdresser.’
‘Not a problem. There’s a salon around the corner we use.’ She faltered and then forced herself to continue. ‘I’ve an appointment later. I’ll call and see if they can take you, too. Now, tell me your plan and what I can do to help.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Krystie protested.
‘Damn right I do. If your photo ends up in the papers the Fields name will be judged on that headpiece.’
Krystie’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘Maybe I should stay home.’
‘You will not,’ Sinéad laughed. ‘Get together the bits and pieces that you need and I’ll call the salon.’
Krystie’s expression cleared and her concentration returned. Sinéad could almost see her mind working.
‘Tell them I need a hairpiece, a long braid.’
‘What if they don’t have anything to match your colour?’ Sinéad asked.
Krystie shrugged. ‘They can change my colour, I don’t mind. I do it all the time.’
‘Me too,’ Sinéad laughed. ‘This is going to be fun!’
The rest of the morning flew by and Sinéad couldn’t believe how great it felt to be so engrossed in work that she was able to forget everything and everyone else. And, though the atmosphere was relaxed and they laughed and joked as they worked, Krystie’s level of concentration and attention to detail never wavered. Sinéad was on her way out of the door for her hair appointment when Krystie called her back.
‘Thanks for inviting me along tonight, Sinéad.’
She smiled at the girl. ‘No, thank you. I thought today was going to be really tough, but you’ve helped me forget.’
Rory was coming out of the storeroom as she flew down the stairs. ‘Happy birthday, darling!’
‘Thank you, Rory. Are you guys still on for tonight?’
‘But of course. As if we would miss it. Are you okay, sweetheart?’ he asked, his eyes soft with concern.
‘I’m fine.’ She gave him a quick hug. ‘I must go. Will you do me a favour, Rory? Remind Krystie that she’s due in the hairdresser’s at three.’
‘Will do.’
‘Thanks, darling.’ She blew him a kiss and hurried off.
Adele met her eyes in the mirror. ‘Well, what’s it to be?’
‘Blonde,’ Sinéad said emphatically.
The hairdresser’s eyes lit up. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, and straight. I’m going to clip it back on one side with this.’ She opened up the small hat box and carefully lifted out the headpiece.
‘That’s so pretty.’
‘It was one of Sheila’s. It goes with my outfit and, well, I thought it would be nice to wear something of hers tonight.’
Adele squeezed her shoulder. ‘It’s a lovely idea. Okay, let me get the colour chart and we’ll get started.’
She was just blow-drying Sinéad’s silken ash-blonde hair into a bob when Krystie raced in the door. She paused at the desk. ‘Hi, I’m Krystie Kelliher. I’ve an appointment.’
‘Of course.’ The receptionist smiled, took her jacket and led her to a seat.
‘Well, what do you think?’ Sinéad asked
Krystie turned her head and stared at her.
‘Don’t you like it?’ she prompted, when the girl still said nothing. Sinéad turned back to the mirror. ‘Is it too pale?’
‘No,’ Krystie said, ‘you look gorgeous! Sorry, it’s just that you look so different, I didn’t recognise you.’
‘It suits you, Sinéad,’ Adele agreed. ‘Now shall I put in the clip or will you be able to manage it yourself later?’
‘I’ll do it.’ Sinéad stood up and took off the protective gown. ‘Thanks so much, Adele.’ She turned back to Krystie, who was still watching her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure. Want to see the finished product?’ Krystie asked.
‘Absolutely.’
Krystie took out her hat box and lifted the lid to show off her handiwork.
Sinéad smiled, marvelling at its delicacy. ‘Great work, Krystie, really great.’
The girl flushed with pleasure. ‘Thanks.’
‘I have to run.’ She patted Krystie’s shoulder. ‘You are going to knock ‘em dead!’
She drove home feeling happier than she had when she had woken up this morning; she’d actually enjoyed today – so far. Krystie was a natural designer and her love of her work showed in every careful stitch. She was a different person once she became lost in the creative process – they were quite alike. Sheila had never been as absorbed, always thinking about the business and the figures rather than the simple enjoyment of creating something beautiful. Sinéad turned her thoughts back to Krystie, determined to maintain her good mood. Her braid would look spectacular, Sinéad was sure of it. She just hoped Krystie’s dress lived up to it. So far she had only seen Krystie in casual clothes and couldn’t imagine her wearing a demure cocktail dress, though her description had sounded beautiful. And, knowing Krystie, whether it was to Sinéad’s taste or not, it would definitely be eye-catching, which was the most important thing.
She’d led the girl to believe the evening would be casual, though it would be anything but. Philip didn’t know how to do ‘low-key’. Still, better Krystie remain in ignorance till this evening. Once she got over the initial shock, Sinéad was confident that she’d take to it like a duck to water.
Chapter Twelve
Krystie and Adele agreed on a sixties-style look but the heavy fringe would be tinged with a deep pink to give it a more funky look. The plait Adele had found was a good match to her own hair colour and it would take very close scrutiny to tell it wasn’t real. As Adele got to work, Krystie painstakingly sewed the headpiece into the braid so that the beads and gems in the aubergine ribbon ran in a perfectly straight line down the centre.
&nb
sp; ‘If you ever get fed up making hats, you can have a job here,’ Adele said, admiring her work. ‘It’s going to look sensational and every time you turn your head it will catch the light. Tell me about the dress.’
Krystie was glad to. Chatting distracted her from her nervousness. From listening to Adele and the staff talking, tonight was a much bigger deal than Sinéad had led her to believe and it would be the first time she would be introduced as a Fields designer wearing her first official creation. It was a very simple piece but damn effective, and she was proud of it. She had enjoyed every moment of her job so far. The hardest part of her day was going home. But then she and Sharon would usually curl up at opposite ends of the sofa and chat or she would Skype Sandy and catch up with her. She felt more comfortable in Greystones now that she was employed and could pay her way. Also, Sharon had the house to herself again for a lot of the time and, when she worked evenings, Krystie got some space and privacy too. It was the perfect arrangement.
Other than going to the local pub with Sharon, she’d had no social life since she’d come back to Dublin, but it didn’t bother her. She was happy with her new life and perfectly content to simply put her feet up at the end of the day.
Adele came over to check her colour. ‘You’re ready. Come on over to the basin. Do you want me to get Nuala to do your nails while I’m doing your hair? We have a good choice of varnish. I’m sure you’d find something to go with your dress.’
‘Really? That would be cool, thanks.’
An hour later, with the girls’ shouts of good luck following her, Krystie hurried out of the salon and was walking towards the train station when she spotted a taxi. To hell with the expense, she wasn’t going to take any chances on her hairdo getting messed up, and she couldn’t afford any delays, anyway. It was almost six.
Back at the house she quickly dug out her dress – thankfully wrinkle-free – and shoes. After a delicate wash, taking care not to splash her hair, Krystie applied very pale foundation, outlined her blue eyes with black kohl, dusted the lids with a silvery shadow and added three layers of mascara. She rummaged through her makeup bag until she found the perfect lipstick, a pale frosty pink.
She had just stepped into the silver stiletto sandals and was twisting and turning in front of the bathroom mirror when Sharon arrived home. ‘In here,’ she called.
‘Holy shit!’ Sharon stood in the doorway, wide-eyed. ‘You look amazing. And your hair!’
Krystie turned around so that Sharon could get a look at her handiwork. ‘You like?’
‘I like.’ Sharon came closer. ‘Who did this for you?’
‘I did.’
‘Wow, well done you.’ She walked around Krystie, taking in every detail. ‘It’s as if the jewels are a part of your hair and the ribbon is perfect with the dress. Brilliant. The silver eyeshadow works so well with your sandals and the gems in your hair; you’re like Cinderella! Bag?’
Krystie led the way back into her bedroom and held up a shiny silver clutch bag.
‘Perfect.’ Sharon grinned.
There was the sound of a horn outside. ‘That will be my taxi.’
‘What are you wearing over it?’ Sharon asked.
Krystie sighed. ‘I’ve nothing suitable so I’m going like this.’
‘Are you mad? It’s freezing out there. Oh, wait!’ Her eyes lit. ‘I’ve got just the thing.’
‘Really, don’t worry, I must go.’ Krystie opened the door and waved to the taxi driver just as Sharon reappeared carrying a white fur wrap. ‘What do you think? It’s fake and cheap but you can take it off as soon as you get in the door.’
‘It’s just right, Sharon, thank you.’
Sharon carefully lifted the braid as Krystie wrapped it around her. ‘Is my back covered?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, and the guys will be gagging for you once you take it off.’
‘To hell with the guys. Once Sinéad and her customers are happy I’ll be over the moon.’ She pressed her cheek to Sharon’s. ‘Thanks, hon, you’re the best.’
‘Have fun, Cinders!’
‘Bloody hell,’ Krystie breathed when the taxi pulled up outside Sinéad’s apartment block and had to buzz the intercom and give her name before the barrier went up.
‘You won’t find anyone on the dole in this place, love,’ the driver laughed.
‘Do you think they’ll let a girl from a council estate into a place like this?’ she asked with a nervous giggle and stepped out of the car.
He looked her up and down. ‘The way you look, love, you’d get into Buckingham Palace.’
‘Ha, you sure know how to get a good tip!’ She handed over the cash and walked towards the entrance, where a porter was already opening the door.
Jeez, she was beginning to feel like a bloody celebrity. He pressed the button for the elevator – lift, she reminded herself – and then the button for the fourth floor. ‘Apartment 4B,’ he said with a polite smile before withdrawing.
As it glided silently up, Krystie studied her reflection in the mirrored walls. She was happy with the final result. Sharon’s wrap might be from a chain store but it didn’t look it. With her thick, glossy, dark fringe feathered with pink framing her dramatically made-up eyes and the rich colour of her dress, she looked positively festive. The lift doors opened and she stepped out, crossed the hall to apartment 4B and rang the bell. The door was opened almost immediately by Max, looking handsome in a dark suit. She fidgeted nervously as he stood staring at her making no move to let her in. ‘Max, hi. I don’t know if you remember me. Krystie?’
His blue gaze raked her very slowly from head to toe. ‘Oh, I remember,’ he murmured.
She took off her wrap. ‘I’m doing a spot of advertising.’ She spun slowly around and heard his intake of breath.
‘That’s quite a dress.’
She felt herself blush, realising it was her bare back that had caused his reaction.
‘She meant her hair.’ Sinéad joined them, laughing. ‘Turn around again, Krystie.’
She did, conscious of Max’s eyes burning into her.
‘Truly beautiful,’ he said when she turned back to face him, and, when she saw his expression, it was clear that he wasn’t talking about her hair or the dress.
‘I think my brother is too overcome by the whole package to pay much attention to your lovely handiwork, Krystie, but, in his defence, you do look stunning.’ Sinéad turned Krystie around again. ‘I’m guessing you worked the piece into the braid, not Adele.’
Krystie smiled. ‘Yeah, how did you guess?’
‘You have an attention to detail that is quite spectacular.’
‘Thank you,’ Krystie said, her heart fit to burst at the compliment.
‘I’ll be honest. When you were mixing in the silver stones with the purple beads I really didn’t think it would work, but you’ve used so few that they do their job of attracting the eye without being overpowering.’ Sinéad shook her head, looking almost envious. ‘As for that dress, are you quite sure that you want to be a milliner?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Krystie laughed. ‘I love it, really I do.’
‘Good, glad to hear it.’
Sinéad turned her head and it was only then that Krystie noticed her headpiece. It was like a loving hand cupping the side of her head and covered one ear, but it was made of peacock feathers and beads. It scooped Sinéad’s hair back, leaving her lovely neck bare and drawing attention to the stunning necklace that glistened against her creamy skin and dipped into her cleavage. ‘You look fabulous and that headpiece is a work of art.’
Sinéad put a hand up to caress the feathers. ‘Isn’t it? Sheila made it.’ Her voice wavered but then she smiled and took Krystie’s arm. ‘Come, let me introduce you to the others.’
She drew Krystie into a living room twice the size of Sharon’s. It was furnished with leather chairs, a sofa, a large desk with a chair either side and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase.
‘This apartment is awesome, Sinéad,’ Krystie said.
/>
‘We picked it up for a song,’ her boss said with a grin. ‘It belonged to a B-list celeb that got into trouble with the taxman and had to leave Ireland in a hurry.’
She led Krystie to the window, where two men stood talking. ‘Krystie, this is my dad, Kieran, and my partner, Dylan.’
Krystie watched Dylan put his arm on the small of Sinéad’s back and give her a warm smile before turning his attention to greet her. God, he was gorgeous and unnervingly like Jacob. No, she was not going to think about him, not tonight.
‘Hi.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Dylan shook her hand.
‘Hello,’ Kieran said with a nod and an absent smile. He was like an older version of Max but shorter, or perhaps that was just the slump to his shoulders. Krystie sighed. She’d have to remember to tread carefully tonight. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, it was clear this was a family in mourning.
‘Champagne?’ Max was back at her side and handing her a glass.
‘Thank you,’ Krystie said, conscious of his hand brushing hers. She looked up to find him watching with those piercing eyes and shivered. She took a sip from the heavy crystal glass and tried to look as if she drank champagne every day of the week.
‘Show them, Krystie,’ Sinéad urged.
She did as she was told and stood patiently as Sinéad explained to her dad and Dylan the work that had gone into the piece.
When she turned around again Kieran smiled. ‘I don’t know anything about this sort of thing but you look smashing.’ He glanced over at his daughter, his eyes suspiciously bright. ‘You both do.’
Sinéad slipped her arm through his and kissed his cheek. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
The doorbell rang. ‘That will be Philip,’ Dylan said and went to let him in.
‘So, you’re settling in all right, Krystie?’ Max asked.
‘Fine, thanks. I’m really enjoying it, and Sinéad is being very patient with me.’
Sinéad grinned. ‘I’m just lulling you into a false sense of security. I’ll be a tyrant when the orders start rolling in.’
First We Take Manhattan Page 11