Paul broke into her thoughts. “Now that the wedding frenzy is over, I guess you’ll be glad to settle back to the peace of the boutique?”
“Oh my, no. I’m off to Seattle on Monday to register for my first fashion design class—Technical and Product Sketching.”
“But you know how to sew, and there must be thousands of patterns—
“I’m going to design my own patterns. Who knows, maybe I’ll have my own fashion line someday—Designs by Gillianne. How does that sound to you?”
“Like a lot of work.” Paul topped off their wine glasses.
Gilly noticed his face suddenly looked rather serious, but she decided to go ahead and fill him in on her long-range plans.
“Oh, it will be. Four years to get a degree, or two for an associates, that is unless I go out on my own before then. I may only take classes this quarter—it’s expensive you know … going to school.” Gilly sipped her wine. She thought her dad had looked tired at the reception. He has so much on his mind. Someday I’ll erase those worry lines. “Honestly, Paul, I just have all these designs whipping around in my head. Sometimes when I come home from the casino I’m so tired but my head’s still buzzing. I’m constantly talking to myself, describing an idea for a dress, coat, or evening wear. However, my favorite designs are clothes for the career woman.”
“I see. Doesn’t sound like you’re going to spend much time at the boutique or Port Gamble.”
“Even now I spend two or three nights at Gramps … Hansville. Did you get a chance to talk to him at the reception?”
“Yes. Short conversation. He’s very nice and spunky. He asked if I’d mind his smoking his pipe—outside, of course.” Paul chuckled. “I wish you didn’t have to work at the casino, that the boutique would be … but I can see with your plans you need to make money.”
It seemed to Gilly that the conversation stalled after her announcement of her grand plan … Designs by Gillianne. Paul toyed with his Sicilian Scampi. She was relatively new to this man thing. Oh, there had been many boys in high school, and before, who were keen on taking the red-haired girl to a school function. There were even stolen kisses. But nothing more. No second, third, or home base.
She’d never been interested. In fact, she wished she was with Gramps right now to discuss the situation, the funny feeling she noticed with Hawk yesterday, and now different feelings with Paul. Their actions had made her nervous. She was probably just tired. It had been a wacky three days and then there was this dead guy. And, that newspaper guy. He knows what it’s like to want something. He as much as said so. After all, he’s striving to be a big crime reporter in Seattle.
Chapter 9
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CARS WERE LINED UP four abreast in the ferry’s holding area, even more wound up the road waiting to go through the ticket booth. Foot passengers formed another queue. Some soft-spoken words were exchanged, but, for the most part, the Monday-morning commuters remained mute, cradling their coffee as their bodies tried to regain the energy spent over a hectic summer weekend of fishing, playing with the kids, and performing the ever growing list of garden chores.
Gilly left her car in the parking lot wheeling a mid-size suitcase. She joined the foot-passenger queue, a tote over her shoulder, one hand on the suitcase strap, and the other holding a cup. She stood sipping her coffee on the ramp that led to the upper deck of the ferry. Looking down over the railing, she saw Hawk in the third line. He was waving with both hands trying to catch her eye. She waved back and with hand signals Hawk indicated he’d meet her onboard. Smiling, she nodded in agreement.
Juggling all of her paraphernalia, Gilly stepped through the entrance of the ferry to the passenger deck. However, her suitcase balked, catching in a crack between ramp and ferry. The wheels were not cooperating.
“Here, let me help you with that.” It was Hawk to her rescue as he easily lifted the cranky suitcase over the crack. “You certainly have a load … I was hoping to see you but I didn’t know what ferry you were going to take.” He looked down at the suitcase as they followed the crowd. “You must have more planned than registering at school?”
Gilly followed him to the seating area, passengers bumping each other as they scurried to get a window seat in one of the booths. The picture windows along the sides of the ferry provided a panoramic view of Puget Sound as well as downtown Seattle when the vessel drew closer. Hawk led her to an empty booth and they both slid in on a bench facing each other. Gilly laid her tote on the seat, tucking the suitcase under the window. Hawk set his computer case and book bag on the side of his seat.
“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee,” he said. “The line isn’t too long. Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks. I’ll watch your stuff,” she said returning his smile. Her eyes followed him as he made his way to the vending machine. “Hey, if a chocolate cookie catches your eye, I certainly wouldn’t turn it down,” she called after him.
Hawk turned, giving her a thumbs up, and hustled up to the line for coffee. Gilly continued to watch him, realizing she was comparing him to Paul. The two men were in stark contrast to each other. Paul, pale skin, brown hair clipped short, friendly with an air of compassion. Hawk, golden-brown Indian skin, shiny black hair always pulled back in a low ponytail, dark eyes and a quick smile.
Returning a few minutes later Hawk handed her a small packet. “One chocolate cookie.” Sitting down, he took a sip of coffee. “Okay, so what’s with the suitcase?”
“I have an appointment at this clothing store, The Working Girl. It’s downtown not far from Nordstrom’s. They’re sponsoring a charity fashion show next month and the owner called asking if I would like to show some pieces.”
“How did she know about you?”
“Luck. She stopped by the boutique several months ago, saw my designer totes, and began to carry them in her store. Umm, this cookie hits the spot.” Gilly pulled the thermos from her tote, poured a half cup of coffee into the lid and screwed the stopper back. Taking a sip she tried to quell her excitement as she leaned back in the green, leatherette padded booth. The ferry made a slight turn and suddenly the Seattle waterfront appeared.
She smiled as her body took a shot of adrenalin. What a sight and she was going to be part of it—school, maybe showing a collection of three outfits.
“You’re smiling. The fashion show?” Hawk asked.
“Just the whole thing. Here I am on the ferry to Seattle with two appointments—
“And, meeting me for dinner. Don’t forget that,” Hawk reminded her, his gaze turning warm and rising.
“Oh, I won’t forget. I hope you’ll be able to stand my jabbering about everything that will have happened. You’ll probably give out a war hoop and run away.”
Gilly noticed Hawk suddenly had a funny look on his face—a frown? What had she said, she wondered, or was it just her imagination. Maybe making a joke about a war hoop was out of line. Her thoughts were interrupted by the loudspeaker announcing the ferry was about to dock. Passengers, who had driven, quickly walked to the stairs leading down to their cars.
“Where’s your school? I have some time I can drop you off on my way,” Hawk said picking up his computer and bag.
Gilly pulled an envelope from the side pocket of her suitcase, fingered through the money and removed a pamphlet. Returning the envelope to the pocket of the suitcase she zipped it shut. “Here, here’s a map. Admissions is on Western.” She handed the flier to Hawk.
“That’s on my way. Come on, we have to hurry down to my car.”
Hawk grabbed her hand, his computer case in the other, backpack over a shoulder, and pulled her along to the staircase. Hustling down the steps, they turned at the bottom squeezing between lines of cars. The noise of engines starting up grew louder and exhaust fumes permeated the air.
“Wait, my suitcase, I have to go back.” Panicking, Gilly pulled her hand away from Hawk’s and ran toward the stairs. Excusing herself, she bumped and pressed by people getting into t
heir cars.
“I’ll pick you up in front of the terminal,” Hawk yelled. She waved her hand over her head indicating she heard him but kept running.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid paying attention to Hawk and not minding what I’m doing,” Gilly muttered as she ran against the crowd coming down the stairs.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry. I have to get through. I forgot my suitcase. Sorry.” Tears began to fill her eyes. “Stop it. Don’t you dare cry!” Finally at the top of the stairs, she raced to the booth where she and Hawk had been sitting. “It’s here. It’s here. Oh, thank you, God. O’Malley? Good for you. You’re on guard duty.”
Gilly yanked the handle up throwing O’Malley in the air. Running to the queue of foot passengers, she waited for the line to move and then hustled down the ramp into the terminal, down the escalator and out the front entrance. Hawk was at the curb. Seeing her coming out the door, he jumped out of the car and threw her case into the back seat as Gilly slid into the front seat. Snarly, Monday-morning commuters blasted their horns and yelled at Hawk to get his car out of the way. Gilly buckled up as Hawk shot away from the curb.
“I’m so sorry, Hawk. Thanks for waiting for me. It was right where I left it. Can’t believe I was so careless,” Gilly said trying to smooth down her wild hair which did not respond to her strokes.
“It’s okay … just glad it was there. People get impatient at rush hour.” Hawk checked his rearview mirror to see if a policeman had seen him stop. No whirling lights or siren. He sighed in relief. “Now, Miss Wilder, I’ll be finished with my classes by one o’clock, but I have to spend some time in the library. How about we shoot to meet at Paloma Café, Pioneer Square, about three … subject to change, of course. You have my cell and I have yours. Keep in touch.” Within minutes, Hawk slowed and stopped. “Here’s your new home.”
Gilly peered out the car window at a big white, multi-floored building faced with glass. Her heart shot into overdrive. Hopping out of the car, she opened the back door and retrieved her suitcase. Mesmerized, she stared up at the modern structure painted in gold by the morning sun. Slowly putting one foot in front of the other, she walked toward her new life.
“Call me, Gilly. I’ll see you at three, Paloma Cafe.” Hawk shook his head, turned away from the passenger-side window, and drove off to the University of Washington campus.
Gilly smiled at her reflection as she approached the entrance—a young woman, curly red hair, looking back at her wearing a light gray-and-white-stripe cropped jacket over gray Capri’s, her black heels clicking along on the pavement.
───
GILLY SQUARED HER SHOULDERS and with long strides made her way to Admissions. Having fulfilled the requirements over the past few weeks including an interview with Mrs. Ross the Admissions counselor, mailing her SAT scores, an essay on her career goals, and filling out numerous forms, she was ready to register. She had received her acceptance letter into the Fashion Associate Program and now, with the money in hand from Trudy’s parents for the bridesmaids’ dresses, she would plunk down the tuition deposit.
The secretary greeted Gilly with a wide smile and escorted her directly into the counselor. Mrs. Ross extended her hand as Gilly entered, and welcomed her to the Academy. She opened Gillianne Wilder’s folder and step-by-step went over the tuition deposit, the tuition balance, the additional fees, and when final payments were due.
Gilly had decided to take the plunge and sign up for three classes: Technical Product Sketching, Fundamentals of Construction, and Computer Apparel Design. She had carefully calculated how many hours she had to work, factoring in her tips to be sure she could handle the financial requirements. She didn’t include what she made at the boutique. She’d use that money, slim as it was, for other expenses she knew would hit her.
Today she was prepared to pay a deposit of $975, finalize the class schedule and what books she would need to buy. Mrs. Ross was very patient and answered all of her questions.
“That’s it, Gillianne. Your full tuition will be $2925 for the three classes. This, minus your deposit today, is due before the fall quarter begins which is in three weeks. You have already paid the $50 application fee and your payment today holds your place in the program. There will be other fees depending on the class as I outlined to you at the time of your interview.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ross.” Gilly opened the side pocket of her case to retrieve the envelope with her bridal proceeds for the tuition deposit.
“Oh, no.”
The pocket was empty.
Gilly knelt on the floor in front of the counselor’s desk, opening and closing the numerous pockets of the case. “O’Malley, where’s the envelope. O’Malley, my money,” she mumbled.
“What’s that, dear? Is there a problem?”
Stopping her frantic search, Gilly played over every second since she had removed the pamphlet with the map from the envelope—the money was there. She closed the pocket. “I … I … my money’s been stolen. Mrs. Ross, I left my suitcase where I was sitting on the ferry … it couldn’t have been more than five, maybe ten minutes. Someone must have seen me take the envelope out when I gave my friend the map to see … he was going to drive me …” Gilly looked down checking the pocket again. O’Malley, sitting on the edge of the case, fell in.
Gilly straightened up and looked Mrs. Ross straight in the face. “I will put my tuition deposit in the mail to you first thing tomorrow morning. You should have it Wednesday, no later than Thursday. Is that acceptable?” she asked pushing the dark cloud of her family’s financial situation away.
“Of course, dear. Maybe you’ll find that envelope at home. I forget things every day, so please don’t worry. It’s been a pleasure to see you again and I’m sure you’re going to enjoy your classes.”
───
GILLY LEFT MRS. ROSS, said goodbye to the secretary and on shaky legs strode out of the building pulling the suitcase along by her side to the bus stop.
“O’Malley, I’m in the big leagues now. Ferry rides to and from Seattle, taking buses, trains, mixing with all kinds of people. I have to be smarter about what I’m doing. What’s that you say? Call Mr. Skip Hunter. The crime fighter? Well, next time I see him, if I see him, I will tell him I was robbed. Yes. I’ll tell Mr. Hunter. He can write an article about protecting yourself when riding on the ferry. One thing’s for sure, I’m not mentioning how stupid I was to mom and dad.”
The bus pulled to a stop with a hiss. Gilly dragged her suitcase up the three steps, paid her fare, and quickly sat down, pulling her case tight against her leg. Twenty minutes and several stops later, she got off and walked two blocks to the clothing store. To regain her equilibrium, she stopped in a café for a glass of iced tea and a muffin. Waiting for her order, she dug her cell out and called Hawk. It was close to noon so she hoped to reach him after his class ended. He didn’t answer so she left the message that she was on track to meet him at three o’clock. On track, sort of.
Finishing her little lunch, Gilly paid the bill and clicked off to The Working Girl rolling her suitcase close to her body. Pushing open the plate-glass door to the tune of a little bell, Gilly put on a brave face, brushing away the fact her bridal money had been stolen.
“Gilly, hi. How are you? I can’t wait to see what you’re going to model for us at the charity show.” Stacy Sinclair, tall and thin, a former model, was always in a hurry, always out of breath, and rarely waited for an answer to her questions. Her dark brown hair, skillfully cut to curl around from behind her ears, rushed up to Gilly, relieved her of her suitcase, and waved her into the back office.
Gilly laid the case on the carpet and unzipped the main compartment. “I have two looks to show you, each consisting of several pieces. Actually for the show, I’ll model them in layers—at least that’s my plan. I’ll carry one of my totes and pull out accessories swapping them around for each layer. Tell me what you think?” Gilly held up the pieces, showing which items went together. “Besides the first two, there i
s one more look—morphing from work into evening. I can design something else if you don’t like what I’m showing you.”
“Gilly, don’t change a thing. I can see where you’re going with the morphing idea. Fabulous. Fabulous. Okay, the show is October eighth, 5:30 to 7:00, so you should be here before, say five o’clock, ready to strut your stuff at sixish. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Stacy. Please. Mrs. Sinclair sounds sooo old. Oops, there’s my bell. Have to run. Thanks again for the treat?”
“Treat?”
“Your designs, dear. Fabulous.”
Gilly carefully folded the collection, repacked her case, and left the shop. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, she contemplated on what she wanted to do next. Pulling out her cell and Hawk’s business card, she punched in his number.
“Hawk, it’s Gilly. I can’t meet you today. I just want to go home. I wouldn’t be very good company.”
“What’s wrong? You sound tired.”
“It’s a long story, and I am exhausted. We could meet down at the ferry, one of the cafes, a drink would be nice.”
“Oh … well … the Bainbridge ferry … we might be seen.”
“What difference does that make … seen?”
“Oh, nothing. I just want to spend time with you. I … I don’t want us to be interrupted by someone … someone I might know.”
“Fine! We won’t meet. Certainly wouldn’t want to be seen.”
Chapter 10
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Murder by Design Trilogy Page 6