───
LEAVING THE KINGSTON CASINO parking lot, Gilly replayed the questions she’d been asked and her answers. All in all she felt the interview went well. The Personnel Manager said there might be an opening in a few weeks. As with the other casino, tribe members always had first dibs.
Gilly, fearing she would be late for her shift, stepped on the gas allowing herself to go above the speed limit on the open stretches of the curvy road. In less than thirty minutes, she hustled into the women’s locker room to change into her all black hostess outfit. The tribal leaders were not into provocative. But, she stood out none the less with her mass of red curls and captivating green eyes. Tying the black waist apron in place, she quickly entered the bar, grabbed a hostess tray, order pad and pen, and waded into the crowded gambling hall. Two hours later she leaned against the wall next to the bar to catch her breath.
“Hey, gorgeous, I bet our patrons are loving you tonight.” Hawk had sidled up beside her, his eyes bathing her in a warm glow before turning in the opposite direction.
“Friday night. It’s a good crowd. They seem to be revving up for the weekend. Did you go into Seattle today. School? I don’t know which days you have class.”
“I did have a class, but more to the point I’d like you to give me your schedule. How about meeting me out back on your next break, 10:30?”
“Okay, I guess. Is there a bench? My feet will be yelling at me by that time.”
“Sure is. Ten-thirty. I’ll watch for you. Go out the guest’s side door—the one by our Longhorn Cafe.”
Gilly watched him walk away. He always seemed to be sneaking around. Meet out back. Side door. Doesn’t want to be seen. Oh, well, doesn’t matter, I guess. She picked up her tray and ambled back into the throng, a smile on her face as she charmed the guests placing their drink orders.
A little past ten-thirty, she slipped out the side door Hawk had mentioned, spotted the bench and sat down. Slipping her shoes off, she wiggled her toes to get the blood flowing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hawk exiting the building, picking up the pace in her direction.
“Feet hurt?” he asked as he sat next to her.
“A little. I’ll be glad when my shift’s over. I’ve been running all night—two more hours and I’ll be more than ready to head home. How’s it going at the tables? Anyone trying to play a fast one with the cards?”
“Not so far. When do your classes start?”
“Two weeks from Monday.”
“I hoped we might have dinner in Seattle one of the days you have class—which are?”
“I’m pretty sure they will be Monday through Wednesday, but there’s lab work following some of the classes, and I don’t know that schedule yet. Hawk, I stopped at the Kingston casino on my way here this afternoon.”
“Why did you do that?” He reached for one of her curls, letting it spring back into place.
“School is really expensive—I desperately need more hours.”
Hawk picked up her hand turning her to face him. “Gilly, don’t go to work there. Have you asked for more hours here? The guests love you and you work fast. You’re a real asset. Please say you’ll check before going to Kingston.”
“If you think I could get more hours … that would be wonderful. I’ll talk to Mrs. Piper tonight if she’s in. Thanks. Okay if I tell her you suggested I ask?”
“No. I don’t want her to think I’m playing favorites. Of course, I am.” Hawk lifted her chin, and gently pressed his lips to hers. He moved to draw her closer.
“Hawk, not here.” Jerking away she fumbled with her shoes. Bending over she wriggled her feet to cooperate, and quickly stood. “I have to get back to work. See you later.”
Her face flushed she scurried through the side door. “O’Malley, what was that all about? Oh my, I don’t want to lose my job. What if someone on the staff saw us? My good gracious … saw him kiss me.”
“I agree, Lass. That would not be good. Not good a-tal.”
Chapter 13
───
THE WENATCHEE SLID INTO her birth on the Bainbridge side of Puget Sound. Waiting for the foot passengers to leave the ferry, Gilly’s perpetual smile beamed at everyone as she waited her turn to board. The rainy night had given way to sunshine and there was a hint of fall crispness in the September air.
Two weeks had whirled by as Gilly raced to keep her new schedule at the Suquamish casino. Mrs. Piper had agreed to give her extra hours and the additional tips were growing her bank account at a record clip. The bursar at the Design Academy acquiesced to her pleading and set up a payment plan whereby her total tuition would be paid by the end of the first term. It was going to be tight, but Gilly felt confident she could earn the money.
She heard nothing more about her dad being laid off. Did he confide the information to Gramps? Nobody said anything to her. If she was a famous designer, she’d make sure the family never had to worry about money. However, a few days ago, her father said at dinner that it would be nice if she married Reverend Paul Simon. After all he and her mother had married two years out of high school. She had kept her mouth shut tight. Fortunately her mom came to her rescue saying that they hadn’t seen each other since the Stanhope wedding. Men seemed to complicate everything. Hawk had tried to persuade her to meet him for dinner. She told him she had to give her full attention to her studies much as she would like to meet him for dinner—maybe next week.
Rushing through the plate-glass doors into the Academy she passed a big sign welcoming students to the beginning of a new school year. A note at the bottom of the sign notified all students to attend an assembly in the auditorium. The president of the Academy had some exciting news.
Gilly entered the large hall—a stage with a microphone propped up on a podium, rows of dark-red padded chairs rising theater style faced the stage. Gilly strode to the front but the first five rows were full, so she slipped into the sixth row, excusing herself until she came to the empty seat. Settling onto the comfy padding, she pushed her tote under the seat and looked around watching more students file in, the auditorium reverberating with animated chatter.
Gilly turned to the young woman sitting to her right. With long black hair falling in waves and large dark brown eyes, Gilly thought her to be Italian.
“Hi, this is so exciting. I’m Gillianne Wilder.” Gilly stuck out her hand which the woman immediately grasped.
“Gillianne. What a pretty name. My name is Maria Delgado. This is my first day. You?” Maria’s full red lips parted in a warm smile.
“Mine, too. I start with Product Sketching, then Fundamentals of Construction.”
“Gillianne, that’s great. Same here. We can find our way around together.”
The girls fell silent watching an attractive, silver-haired woman in a charcoal suit approach the podium, smiling at the nearly two-hundred students assembled in front of her. The chatter immediately subsided, and the woman, President of the Academy, welcomed the group—eager faces full of anticipation, hopes, and dreams, looked up at her. She explained the orientation procedure for new students and said that by tomorrow they would be fully engaged with class assignments.
“Now for my announcement. Nordstrom, as I’m sure you are aware, is a large clothing chain whose home office is located here in Seattle. They are the venue for a competition open to all fashion-design students in the State of Washington sponsored by the Seattle Chamber of Commerce, top design schools, and several clothing stores. I’m happy to say our school has been invited to participate.” She paused, taking a sip of water, to let the excitement of the announcement sink in.
“The competition will consist of original designs for a spring collection, five looks from each entrant. Your collection will debut at a fashion show the week before Thanksgiving. Judges will proclaim the winner and two runner-ups shortly after the end of the show. The winner will be featured on the sponsor’s websites. You can pick up your entry form on the Academy’s website under the Competitions tab. I
hope you will all take advantage of this exciting opportunity. Now, off to class. Have fun, Work hard. Show us your best.”
“Is that exciting or what, Maria? Come on, let’s find our first classroom.”
Looking at each other they giggled. Both had dressed in new dark-blue jeans for the first day of school. Gilly wore a cropped red cardigan over a white blouse and Maria chose the same except her sweater was light blue. Both had burgundy-red flat shoes peeking from under their jeans. Following after the other students, both girls were awestruck knowing they were part of the Design Academy student body.
Gilly and Maria entered their classroom and sat at a table in the middle. A woman in a black suit stood at the front of the room shuffling papers, and then turned to the whiteboard holding a stubby black magic marker: Technical Product Sketching. Miss Blackstone.
Miss Blackstone turned back to the students seated in front of her, her lips forming a thin smile. “Good morning, everyone. I’m sure you heard the announcement of the competition this morning, a collection of five looks to be shown in two months on the runway. All instructors will weave this competition into their curriculum this quarter. Given sketching of your designs is the first step in creating a look, this morning I want to introduce you to the key market segments you might target to sell your designs. I’m sure you’ve heard the terms, such as haute couture, ready-to-wear, and mass market, but do you understand what they mean, the subsets of each market, and how your design will be impacted by the market you choose?”
Miss Blackstone looked down at a list of her students. “Gretchen, what does the word couture mean to you? Please stand.”
“Oh, very expensive.” Several students nodded in agreement.
“Stan, what does ready-to-wear mean to you?” Miss Blackstone looked around the class for Stan.
“Over here.” Stan stood. “It means I can buy a suit and have it altered.”
“Ah, you added another word to your description. “Gillianne, what does mass market mean?”
“I guess you find the same piece in many stores and I think at a lower price.”
“Thank you.” Miss Blackstone picked up a stack of sheets handing them to the first student in each row. “The decision of which market you pick to distribute your designs is of prime importance. The market you choose has significant ramifications on your design: the complexity, the material, the detail. This sheet contains a brief description of the three markets plus another one that is gaining momentum. I’m going to ask you again, Gretchen, what couture means to you, but this time I want you to read from the sheet. By the way, class, I urge you to research the markets before you choose but I want you to make a preliminary choice for Monday’s assignment. That doesn’t mean you design for that market forever, in fact you may change several times. But your first choice will be the market for your collection in the competition. You can change one time. Okay, Gretchen, please read about haute couture. And please stand while you read.”
“The term ‘haute couture’ describes elaborately detailed, one-of-a kind pieces. It was born out of the first fashion houses in Paris. The creations are fitted specifically to the client’s measurements. Made to measure does not mean ready-to-wear garments that are altered for a specific customer.”
“Thank you, Gretchen. Stan, please read the ready-to-wear description.”
“Ready-to-Wear designs come in a range of standard sizes. Although not made for a specific individual, great care is given to the design. Numbers of garments tend to be low, thereby more expensive. Some designers offer clothes from low to high price points. Designers often wholesale their collections to boutiques and department stores and may also open their own retail outlets cutting out the middleman. Orders are placed by retailers and the garments are then produced to fill the orders.”
“Thank you, Stan. So, if you want a suit altered, you might choose from a store offering ready to wear. Gillianne, please read the mass-market paragraph.”
“Mass-market clothes are produced first and then sold. They are produced in large quantities and in a good range of sizes, making them less expensive and more accessible to the average customer. Designers often adapt the trends of the big designers using cheaper materials and mass production techniques. Designers can treat a trend in their own way, thereby creating their own piece.”
“Thank you, Gillianne. Maria, please read the last paragraph on Eco Fashion. Please stand.”
“Eco Fashion refers to fashionable clothing manufactured using environmentally-friendly processes, recycled materials, and sometimes recycling vintage pieces. It can be a marketing tool to attract customers.”
“Thank you, Maria. So, class, when you prepare your assignment for Monday, be ready to tell us the market you chose and how that market influenced your sketch for your first project. That’s all for today.”
───
“SO, WHAT’S FOR LUNCH?” Gillianne asked as she and Maria opened their brown, paper bags. Maria unwrapped her sandwich and Gilly laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“PB and J?” Gilly unwrapped hers. “PB and J. Maria, our meeting is not by chance. It was ordained.”
“In that case, girlfriend, here’s half of my fudgy brownie made by my hands at a bakery. No, not a bakery, the bakery where I work.” Marie handed over half of her brownie with a grin.
“Sounds like we’re both on a tight budget. But … we’re here aren’t we? I don’t care how many hours I have to work,” Gilly said taking a bite of brownie.
Gilly told Maria about her hostess job. Maria was amazed at the number of hours her new friend was working. She didn’t see how Gillianne was going to handle her class load along with the long hours at the casino. However, both girls decided they would do whatever it took to follow their dream.
Leaving the cafeteria, they hustled to their third and last class for the day—Fundamentals of Patternmaking. Both girls were grateful that their classes coincided so they could help each other, as well as grateful that the three classes met Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday leaving the rest of the week for their studies and, in both of their cases, their part-time jobs totaling nearly thirty hours per week.
Exhausted at the end of their patternmaking class, their adrenalin drained, they said goodbye to each other at the bus stop. Gilly flopped down in the first vacant seat she found and stared out the window. The day’s lectures spinning through her head, she was already designing a spring dress for a career woman—the first piece for class as well as for the competition.
The instructor, Miss Blackstone, had handed out assignment sheets: A sketch due Monday, along with an initial pattern, and a two-page paper describing the construction of the piece.
Her forehead pressed against the bus window, Gilly mumbled to her friend. “O’Malley, I hope I can do this. What do you think?”
O’Malley sat precariously on the edge of her tote hanging on to the bag’s shoulder strap for dear life as the bus rounded a corner. “You can do it, Lass. I know you can.”
The bus pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the ferry terminal. Stepping off onto the sidewalk, O’Malley fell into her tote. With her month’s ferry pass in hand, Gilly walked to Pier 52 and boarded the Wenatchee.
She slithered into a booth laying her tote and books beside her. It wasn’t that her body ached in any particular spot, like her feet after a shift at the casino. The excitement of her first day at the Academy had zapped her strength big time. Thankfully she didn’t have to go to the casino until Wednesday night.
Laying her head back, she heard the crew yelling to each other giving the okay that the last car was aboard. Ropes and chains secured she felt the engines gain power. Slowly the ferry pulled away from the pilings into Elliott Bay—the southern tip of Puget Sound.
Gilly felt her cell vibrating. Students had been given a strict warning that cell phones would not be tolerated in the classroom. Looking at the display, she saw the reporter, Skip Hunter was calling.
“Hi, Mr. Hunter.
”
“Hi, yourself. Can you please call me Skip.”
“Only if you call me Gilly. What’s up?”
“Do you know that the Stanleys’ house was broken into?”
“Who are the Stanleys?”
“The people that John Doe asked your grandfather about. Directions.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, but what—
“Gilly, don’t you find it strange that two people have been vandalized who were involved with John Doe?”
“Wait. Hold on. Two? The Stanleys and who else?
“Hawk Jackson. His car was slashed to shreds a couple of weeks ago. Didn’t he tell you? I thought you two were close.”
“Skip, you are not making sense and your insinuation that there is something between Hawk and I is just plain wrong. Crazy. Now start over. Hawk’s car was slashed? And what’s this about the Stanleys’?”
“Two nights ago, Saturday. They went into Seattle and didn’t get home until late. The house was a mess. Drawers pulled out, stuff brushed off shelves onto the floor. It was on the Kitsap County police website. I tell you, Gilly, there’s a connection to John Doe’s murder.”
“You still think it’s murder? Was anything stolen—Hawk’s car or Stanleys’ house?”
“Not that either of them can make out. Gilly … you have to talk to your grandfather, and then I’ll call him.”
“Skip, are you saying you think Gramp’s house may be next? Could he be in danger?”
“Yes. And, Gilly, that goes for you, too.”
Chapter 14
───
BURGERS WERE ON THE grill when Gilly drove up to her grandfather’s. She waved to her dad as he turned the patties over with a large spatula. He was wearing a fresh set of khaki pants and a shirt just like his dad except Gramps had a dash of color with his red suspenders. Tending to the grill at this time of afternoon meant another day without work. She tried not to let tension build between them, anymore than it had already, so she gave him a hug and clung to him for a second then kissed him on the cheek.
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 8