A Lowcountry Bride

by Preslaysa Williams

  “You don’t want to read it?”

  She shook her head. “No way. Can you read it for me and then let me know what it says?”

  He chuckled. “You’re a trip, you know that?”

  “I’m not a trip. I’m a hardworking dress designer who knows that this particular moment will make or break me.”

  “It’s not that serious.”

  “It’s pretty close.” She still kept her eyes covered. “My entire career is hinging on this article.” Maya peeked through her fingers. Derek was staring at her with contentment in his expression. “What? Does it say something bad?”

  “No. No. Just . . . thinking. That’s all.” Derek shifted his weight from side to side. The corners of his mouth curled up in delight.

  “Are you going to read the post?”

  “Yes.”

  She covered her eyes again. “Good.”

  He started to read it aloud.

  “Read it silently, please,” Maya said. “Then give me a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or something. Like an executive summary.”

  “You are really serious, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “So when are you going to read it?”

  This was so nerve-racking. “I . . .”

  “I’ll read aloud if it’s good. How does that sound?”

  Relief swept through her. “That sounds excellent.”

  “‘Upcoming New Designer Is One to Watch, Blending History and Fashion in Unique Ways.’ This is great, Maya.”

  “It is?” she said.

  Derek laughed. “Yes, it is. Cat writes: ‘Ms. Heather Gates looked divine in a form-fitting gown that displayed a unique blending of cultures, Filipino and West African. The West African inspiration is a nod to Heather’s great-grandmother, an African American woman who passed as a White woman. It’s unfortunate that Jim Crow laws and racist violence forced Heather’s great-grandmother to pass as White, but Heather’s symbolic dress honors her once-hidden African heritage. Now it’s come to light, and Heather’s wedding was a celebration of it.’”

  “The way Cat worded it sounds deep,” Maya said.

  “That’s because it is deep.” He continued reading. “‘A junior wedding dress designer for Laura Whitcomb, Maya Jackson’s style sense is avant-garde with a touch of classic form. The way Maya uniquely and seamlessly blends the design styles of two cultures without missing a beat is something I haven’t seen in my thirty years as a fashion critic.’”

  A stunned shock overcame Maya. “Wow. Wow. Wow.”

  “‘When I interviewed Maya,’” Derek continued, “‘she said that the design inspirations for her work come from being apprenticed to her mother, a Filipina designer who brought indigenous stitching techniques with her to the United States. The craft and skill in the dresses are astonishingly intricate. Laura is lucky to have snapped Maya up. She’ll be even luckier to have Maya take the Laura Whitcomb brand to a new level. Maya’s unique eye and style will be an asset to an already successful line.’” Derek looked up from the screen. “You, my lady, are a hit.”

  The positive comments on Cat’s blog were already rolling in. Maya stepped close to read them.

  Gorgeous! The dress looks amazing.

  So unique.

  The comments kept coming.

  “I knew you’d succeed,” he said. “Cat didn’t drag Laura Whitcomb on the internet either. She’s much savvier than that. Much, much savvier. You’re brilliant. You know that, right?”

  Did she? Now she did. Cat’s blog changed everything.

  Jamila emerged from the break room and stepped close to the computer screen. Her eyes widened. “You’re famous, Maya!”

  Maya laughed. “Not exactly famous, but thank you.”

  “Maya, I—” Derek said.

  A cell phone trilled.

  “Is that my phone?” he asked.

  “Nope. It’s mine.” Maya answered. “Hello?”

  “Maya? Hello! It’s Laura Whitcomb. I saw Cat’s post this morning of the wedding you designed for. Do you have a minute to chat?”

  Stress-excitement sizzled through her. What did she want? “Can you hold on please?” She placed the phone down and her jaw dropped.

  There was some quiet chatter as Derek and Jamila read through more of the comments on the computer.

  “That’s Laura Whitcomb on the phone!” Maya’s voice was a shout-whisper. “Laura saw Cat’s blog post, and she wants to talk. I wonder if she’s gonna give some commentary on my design revisions that I sent her too.”

  “Better see what she has to say,” Derek said, a note of pride in his voice. “Go on and speak with her.”

  Maya jumped up and down like a kid on Christmas Day. “I’ll take this call in the back.”

  Maya stepped into the break room of Always a Bride and sat down at the round table, holding the cell phone up to her ear. “Hey, Laura. You still there?”

  “Yes. What were you doing?”

  The nervousness didn’t leave. Laura could also be calling to rail on her, as usual. “Just looking for a quiet place to talk. That’s all,” Maya said, trying to keep the calm in her voice.

  “I didn’t know you were working on the wedding for the governor’s daughter.” Laura said this with a note of incredulity in her voice, as if Maya were beholden to her for every move she made while down south.

  “You said I could sell some of my designs while I was down here in Charleston since I would not be paid after two weeks, remember?”

  There was silence on the other end, and all of a sudden Maya grew nervous. Should she have said something to Laura about Heather’s wedding too? Was she supposed to check in or something? Oh Lord. Last thing Maya needed was to get on Laura’s bad side.

  “I was so impressed with your design of Heather’s dress. I loved it. I wish you would’ve shown me these styles earlier, so we could’ve worked something out under the Laura Whitcomb brand.”

  Maya’s blood boiled. She’d been trying to get Laura to recognize her designs since she had started working there. All Laura did was dismiss them as “not marketable.” Now she wanted to claim Maya’s designs under her brand?

  “Did you see the revisions I sent you? The ones that are more aligned with your style?”

  “Oh yes. I saw them. They were okay,” Laura continued. “But I was thinking about all the press you’ve been getting, and I think it will be great exposure for the Laura Whitcomb line. It’ll show that we’re a progressive, forward-thinking, and diverse company.”

  Diverse? What was she talking about? Laura disliked Maya’s design aesthetic. Now Laura wanted to be “diverse”? Humpf.

  “I want to offer you the position of head designer at Laura Whitcomb Inc.”

  Maya’s heart pounded. Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. This was what she’d dreamed of. “You do?”

  “Yes, I do. As soon as you return to New York at the end of the month, I’d love to discuss your new position.”

  Her new position. Yes. Her new position. Laura said it as if it were a done deal, as if she had accepted it already.

  Maya would, wouldn’t she? Taking this position was a no-brainer. Yes? Yes. Now it was actually happening. Now it was actually real.

  “This will be an exciting new turn in your career, Maya. It’ll be challenging, but fun too. And the travel! Oh, you’ll love the travel. You won’t be all cooped up in the New York office. This job will be about eighty percent travel. All expenses paid by the company.”

  How would she see Derek? “Eighty percent travel?”

  “Yes. Mostly international too. You’ll spend a lot of time in Paris and Milan attending fashion shows, meeting with our designers who are based in Europe, and consulting with our international clients. Oh, you’re in for a glamorous life, darling. A glamorous life.”

  Fireworks crackled in her spirit. If she could’ve, she would’ve squeed, hopped, and cheered like a crazed spectator at a football game. But then something else tugged at her too. The idea of traveling sounded
great, but it could also put a huge strain on any type of long-distance relationship she had with Derek. They’d hardly see each other. And her health. Could her body take the stress and toll of travel? She never even told Laura about her sickle cell, and Laura wasn’t the understanding type. “Can I have some time to think about this? Before I make a decision to accept or not?”

  “Why wouldn’t you accept?” Laura asked, her tone incredulous.

  “I just want to think it over.”

  “You didn’t get another offer already, did you?”

  Laura was concerned about competition, huh? Perhaps Maya could use that in her favor if she accepted and negotiated a salary. She wouldn’t lie about a competing offer, but Maya could play up how much of an asset she would be now that she had all this buzz. Then there was Derek. “I want to think about it. That’s all.”

  “Okay. Great!” Laura said. “We’ll talk about the details of your new position when you return.”

  “I haven’t accepted,” Maya reemphasized. “I need time.”

  “Oh, right. Time. Take all the time you need, but I am looking forward to seeing you soon.”

  They said goodbye. Maya hung up and took a long, deep breath. First thing was to tell Derek. She was thrilled about the job offer, but she wanted to tell Derek how this new position could affect them. Being head designer could take a toll on their new relationship and her health.

  And that didn’t feel right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jamila left for the movies, and that left Derek to feel all of the feelings toward Maya.

  He loved Maya. Derek knew that after one date, then two dates. He knew it after one kiss, then two kisses. He loved her. That knowing lingered even now. The feeling had been growing from the first day he’d met Maya.

  That call from Laura Whitcomb filled him with joy. Seeing Maya succeed in her endeavors was beyond satisfying. Maya was finally getting the recognition she deserved, and it all began in this little bridal shop. Derek wanted to see her shine and succeed as a designer. They would make their relationship work too . . . somehow.

  Somehow. Derek believed it would work. He was still willing to fly to New York regularly. That didn’t change.

  Now would be a good time to tell Maya how he truly felt, to tell Maya that he was in love.

  Yes. Derek would tell her. He’d do so as soon as she returned to the sales floor.

  Maya returned, exuberance coloring her entire expression. “I have news,” she said. “Good news!”

  Derek glanced down, pondering how to say the words.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Everything is perfect.” He smiled. “So what’s your news?”

  “Laura Whitcomb offered me the head designer position.” She rocked back and forth on her feet. “When I get home, I won’t have to be a junior designer anymore. Isn’t that great?”

  Her talk of returning to New York sent a bittersweet feeling through his bones. Still, he was thrilled—thrilled enough to embrace her. “That’s excellent, Maya. I’m so proud of you.”

  Maya glanced up at him, her eyes shining with hope. “I know! This is the best thing that ever happened to me. Mama would be so proud. I wish she were here to experience this moment too.”

  “I’m sure she’s smiling down from heaven.” He brushed a curly tendril from her face. “But I don’t think it was Laura’s offer that would’ve made your mother proud. I think she was proud of you the moment you were born. You’re a gift to everyone you meet, including me.”

  Maya bit her bottom lip.

  “Are you all right? You look unhappy. Did something happen?” he asked.

  She sighed and then released her embrace and took a step back. “I didn’t accept the offer yet.”

  A tiny flame of concern lit within him, soon followed by confusion. “Why not? This is what you wanted all along.”

  “Laura mentioned that the job would entail eighty percent travel, and I know you wanted to visit New York once a month. I was concerned that the new position would hinder our relationship and all, as well as my health.”

  Something inside of him melted. Maya hadn’t accepted the position right away because she was concerned about them. How loving.

  Loving. Love.

  He loved her. He was definitely going to tell her. Maybe.

  Should Derek tell her that he loved her? Professing love now would only make her more indecisive about taking the job. Derek would never do that to her. No need to tell Maya he was falling in love. She needed to make her decisions without any extra emotions involved.

  “You can always tell Laura the truth about your health. She sees you as a valuable member of her company.”

  A tiny frown formed at the corners of her mouth. “If I told her the truth, she would see me as a liability.”

  “You’re not a liability.”

  “Not to you, but I would be a liability to Laura. Then I’d be done and over with . . . old news . . . expendable.”

  “You’re not expendable. No one can fulfill that head designer position like you can. No one else can bring your unique vision to the Laura Whitcomb brand. You have to recognize the value you bring to the table.”

  She glanced down, uncertainty shrouding her face. “What do you think I should do?” she asked. “Should I accept the position or not?”

  He paused. The last thing he wanted to do was tell her what to do. This was her life to live. “Do what makes you happy.” He cupped her face.

  “Do what makes you whole.” He kissed her forehead.

  “Do what gives you peace.” He gently kissed her lips.

  Maya’s expression fell.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Nothing . . . I just figured . . .” Maya shrugged. “Never mind.”

  “We can make things work between us. I’m sure of it,” he said.

  Silence. A silence that held a multitude of unspoken feelings.

  “Whatever you choose, Maya, I’m here for you. Always.”

  His heart pricked. There was a small chance this could push them apart, but he would stand by his word. The love he held for her would survive this dilemma.

  Even though he could sense her resolve slipping away, he would hold on, for love.

  “So what will you do?” Derek asked.

  What would she do? Maya was hoping that Derek would help her iron that out. Instead, he was leaving it up to her. “I don’t know.”

  He bit his bottom lip as if he wanted to say something more but was holding himself back.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I’m here. I’m listening.”

  Okay, so he was listening. Guess she’d figure it out on her own. “Like I said earlier, I’ll be traveling a lot. That could hinder us. I don’t want to do that either.”

  Derek pursed his lips, quiet.

  “You’re not helping me by ‘just listening,’” she added.

  “I’m letting you decide. I don’t want to stand in the way. I know you’ve wanted this for so long. I know this is a huge dream of yours.”

  He was right. It was her dream and her mother’s dream too. This opportunity that her mother would never get to see. “So you’re okay with us not seeing each other once a month? It could turn into bimonthly or even quarterly visits. Who knows?”

  Derek’s eyes flitted back and forth, apparently uncomfortable.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I have an idea. An alternative.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Oh really? What’s that?”

  “You’ve built a lot of momentum here with your designs. You’re so incredibly talented, Maya. Why don’t you strike out on your own and start your own brand? Right here in Charleston. You can still work here too.”

  Strike out on her own? Was he out of his mind? “That’ll be a lot of work for me.”

  “You’ve been doing most of the work already anyway. It won’t be much different.”

  He had a point, but t
his was Laura Whitcomb. The Laura Whitcomb. “I’m just a newbie designer with a little bit of buzz. I have nothing to stand on. Working with Laura as her head designer will give me the name recognition that I need.”

  “But it won’t be your name. It’ll be hers. From the way you talk about Laura, she seems like the type of person who will want all the credit for your success. And all the profit.”

  Maya twisted her mouth. Laura did mention that part about Maya’s designs being under the Laura Whitcomb brand, but . . .

  “You don’t need Laura Whitcomb’s name recognition,” he added. “You can hold your own as a designer.”

  Could she? “I don’t think I can.”

  “I don’t understand your self-doubt. You’re an excellent designer. You can definitely strike out on your own, right here in Charleston. Then we won’t have to worry about travel schedules. You’ll have the best of both worlds. We’ll have each other.” Derek stepped closer, and she inhaled the scent of his cologne.

  Having each other all the time would be nice. Very nice. She stood on her tiptoes and her lips met his.

  Derek’s mouth parted and so did hers. They kissed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she returned the gesture, her hand caressing his half-shaven cheek. He gently squeezed her palm, and Maya grew energized by the heat beneath his grip. She was going to miss this when she returned to New York. The smell of him. The taste of him. A longing arose inside of her. A longing to . . .

  Worry tugged at her too, and she pulled away. “This is tough.”

  “I know. Like I said, you’ve already made great ground here with your work. You can continue to build on it. We can continue to build on us. We can also build on our relationship if you choose New York. It may take some finagling, but it can be done.”

  The warmth drained from her palms. Could it be done? They would barely see each other in person.

  “I know your career is important to you. The offer from Laura Whitcomb is amazing. But remember that you were getting recognized for your hard work before Laura’s offer. Not only for your hard work, but you were getting recognized for simply being you, the unique you. Laura never cared until now.”

  His words dug deep into the parts of her where even deeper insecurities resided. All her life she’d tried to get “acknowledged” by others, including people like Laura Whitcomb, a blond, blue-eyed woman who was already accepted by mainstream society. Laura held no childhood memories of receiving skeptical glances for being a brown-skinned child who called her Asian mother “Mama” in public. Laura would never have to explain to people that no, she wasn’t Black and White—she was Black and Asian, an altogether different identity and experience. But Maya craved that level of validation from a woman like Laura. Maya couldn’t let this opportunity go because it hurt to never, ever quite fit in anywhere. And now Maya was being accepted—by Laura.