The realtor widened his eyes. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I don’t think this will be a good option. I’m not ready to see my mother’s legacy completely erased.” Derek went over to the counter and perused the email communication that he’d been making. “I’m sorry you wasted time coming down here today, but I’ll have to pass.”
They looked at him, apparently stunned. “Are you sure?” the realtor asked.
“Positive.”
“Well, I’ll be. This is just a mess,” Marjorie said.
Not for me.
The two of them left, and Derek was back at square one—no, he wasn’t back at square one. He’d done a good job with this place, and now he would maintain the place—alone.
A bittersweet feeling arose inside of him. He still missed Maya, but he wouldn’t focus on that now. She had made her decision, and now he had made his.
Derek crossed his arms and looked at the store with a renewed sense of confidence and determination. Before, he’d held doubts about being able to manage Always a Bride on his own. He’d relied on Ginger, and then he’d relied on Maya to help him make a turnaround. This time, Derek would rely on himself, and for the first time, he believed that he could.
This would work. More than work. Always a Bride would continue to succeed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maya was released from the ER on Saturday afternoon, and she spent the rest of the weekend resting. Well, she rested after calling her father to tell him what happened. He was worried, but she told him she was okay—for now.
She didn’t call Derek, unsure of how he’d react to her stint in the hospital. Maya didn’t want him to overreact. Maya would figure out how to tell him after she got the Laura issue out of the way.
Maya typed and printed her resignation letter to Laura Whitcomb. She no longer wavered on her decision to leave her job. She wrote that letter with 100 percent certainty.
Once Monday came, she was ready to hand in her resignation. Maya took a deep breath as she stepped off the elevator and made her way to Laura’s office. She’d rehearsed the conversation a thousand times over in her mind. So much so that her speech was automatic.
Laura’s door was half-open, which signaled that she was open to visitors. A closed door meant don’t even try stepping inside. Maya had learned that the hard way when she’d naively stepped into Laura’s office during her first week as a junior designer. Laura had screamed her head off. Maya had been so embarrassed.
Maya stared at the half-open door. “Here goes nothing.” She knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Maya’s heart fluttered, but she stepped inside. Laura did a double take.
“Maya! I’ve been trying to contact you all weekend. You had that conference call and Fernando told me you were a no-show. What happened?”
Stress from my last conversation with you happened. “I had a minor emergency.”
Laura waved at Maya like she was an irritating fly. “Minor or major emergency, Maya, you have to check in. You’re the head designer. You’re my right-hand woman. I can’t have you flaking out on me.”
Laura was already taking ownership of Maya. “I need to talk with you.”
“I need to talk to you. First thing, HR called me. They said you haven’t signed your paperwork yet. It’s a simple signature.”
Did Laura not hear that Maya had an emergency? Was Laura that selfish? Obviously. “I was in the hospital,” Maya said, forcing herself to sound civil.
“The hospital?!”
Maya nodded.
“Hope you’re feeling better. Anyway, we need to reschedule that conference call,” Laura said, raising an eyebrow.
Maya exhaled. Laura didn’t care one way or another.
“Fernando wants to prep for the fall season, and he wants a brainstorming session,” Laura continued. “I think your design style will make a big splash at Fashion Week.”
Fashion Week? The Fashion Week? “My clothes would be on the runway there?”
“Of course, they would.” Laura smiled. “What did you think would happen as my new head designer?”
Fashion Week would be even bigger than the publicity she garnered from Heather Gates’s wedding. Every major media outlet would be there covering the event.
“I also want you to be my spokesperson at Fashion Week. Talk to the media. Be the face of the company.”
This was her chance. Her opportunity. Maya looked down at the resignation letter in her hand. It suddenly felt like a lead weight. Did she really want to hand this in? Maybe she could wait until after Fashion Week. That way she could take all of that publicity buzz with her into her new endeavor.
That pull toward ambition was strong. It didn’t want to let her go, so Maya would have to cut the cord. Maya had to let go of this job. “I want to give you this.” She handed over the letter. “I’m resigning.”
Laura stared at the letter as if it had a contagious disease. “And this is your notice?”
“Yes.”
Laura took it from Maya’s hand so quickly that it could’ve been seen as a snatch. Okay, it was a snatch. Laura Whitcomb snatched it out of her hand. Rude. Laura then squinted at the letter and sniffed in a snooty way. “Why are you resigning?”
“For creative differences.”
“You’re referring to our last conversation?”
“I am.”
“What are you going to do? I mean, you’ve worked so very hard here. You obviously love it. Are you quitting for good? Leaving the industry completely?”
Maya sighed. Don’t really want to tell her my plans, but she’s asking. “I’m not going to quit designing dresses. I’m going to go at it on my own in South Carolina.”
A half-smile, half-sneer colored her thin lips. “Is that so?”
Laura asked the question as if Maya didn’t have a choice. “Yes, that’s so.”
“Your designs are still mine. I own them.”
A coldness swept through Maya. “You do not. Those designs came from my mind, and they were created from my hands. Those designs belong to me. Besides, I’ve sent you my design ideas time and time again. You never accepted them. You only started paying positive attention to my work after Heather Gates’s wedding.” Maya stood her ground even though her insides shook.
“You made an agreement. Even if you leave, I will still be able to use the designs you created here for commercial purposes. It will be best for you to stay. I’ll get my lawyer to take you to court on it too.”
This woman was seriously trying to control her. “Do what you want, Laura. But one thing I know, everything I create from here on out is mine.”
Laura didn’t look too pleased, and quite frankly, Maya didn’t care.
“You’re going to relinquish everything you’ve created to this point?” Laura asked, her voice surprised.
Relinquish. Was Maya willing to relinquish everything? A flood of memories passed through her, and with those memories came every single negative feeling that was attached to them, but each memory also held hope. Hope was a tiny ember that her mother had ignited for her, all those years ago. The hope that, one day, Maya would be in the exact position where she now stood.
Now that Maya had arrived at this moment, her stomach soured. She inhaled and everything she’d felt—the fear, the self-doubt . . . and the courage—rose up in another wave.
“Maya?” Laura repeated. “You’re just going to relinquish everything?”
Every inch of Maya’s body screamed to relent and take back everything she just said to Laura. The old Maya fought for one last gasping breath, striving and straining for survival.
Instead, Maya let her old self go. “Yes, I am giving this up. If I have to start over, if I have to start from scratch, then I will.”
Laura’s posture stiffened. “Well, then.” She tossed the resignation letter aside and it floated to the corner of Laura’s desk. “Good luck to you.”
Maya left.
As soon as
Maya stepped out of that office, a weight melted away. That burden to please Laura, that burden to be accepted by Laura—and all that Laura represented—disappeared. No longer would Maya be that insecure designer hoping to be validated by the likes of a Laura Whitcomb. No. Maya would simply be who she was, wherever she was, accepted or not.
Her eyes stung with tears of exhaustion and release. Claiming inner freedom was a beautiful thing.
Maya took the elevator down to the street level. Once she was in the lobby, she stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirrored walls.
She did it. She finally did it. Now it was time for her to come home. Maya reached in her purse for her cell phone and dialed her father’s number. He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Pops. It’s me.”
“How are you doing, baby girl? Something happen again?”
Maya then explained everything.
“Oh. Quitting is a big deal. You’re coming home after all.” A few seconds of silence ensued. “I’m proud of you. Very proud.”
“Thanks, Pops. I was thinking that maybe I’d stop by Always a Bride and see Derek. I might take him up on his offer if it’s still on the table.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know. It may not be on the table anymore. We’ll see.”
“I heard that Derek was thinking of selling the store.”
Her pulse stopped. “What?”
“I haven’t confirmed for sure, but that’s what I heard.”
Maya groaned. “If he sells the store, then it would be all my fault. I shouldn’t have left Charleston in the first place. I should’ve stayed put.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Easier said than done. She’d really have to start from scratch. Maya would have to find another store to showcase her designs. She’d have to find another person who believed in her as a designer. On top of that, she’d have to deal with the fact that her decisions could’ve led Derek to give up his family business. If Derek sold the boutique, she’d never live it down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After Derek decided to keep Always a Bride, he planned a Community Day at the shop. When his mother was alive, she held regular Community Days for women who couldn’t afford a fancy dress for either their wedding or another formal event. His mother had opened the shop to them, and for one day only, they’d be able to pick out one dress of their choice and purchase it at a deep discount.
Derek hadn’t had the financial means or inclination to hold a Community Day in a long time, but now he did. Community Days weren’t just for buying dresses at a discount. They were times of socializing and bringing the town together. His mother had a special way of doing that in downtown Charleston, and he wanted to keep the tradition alive.
He fiddled around with the music player and chose Aretha Franklin’s song “Respect.” It blasted over the sound system. His mother loved Aretha, and since this day was a tribute to his mother, he was going all out. “Ready for this big day, Jamila?”
Jamila was putting the finishing touches on by tying shiny red and white Mylar balloons around the shop. “Almost, Dad. Tying these balloons is tricky.”
“Well, if they fly away, they’ll only hit the ceiling.” He laughed.
Jamila didn’t, her face in deep concentration as she tied the final knot on the last balloon. “Got it. You can open the shop now.”
Her precociousness warmed his heart. “I appreciate you giving me permission.”
“Thanks for not selling the store.” She headed toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Maybe one day when I get older, I’ll design dresses for the store. I love this place, and I love you too.”
His eyes stung. All this time he wanted to connect with his daughter, and now it was fully happening. “I love you too, dollface. Always and forever.”
Derek exhaled. One day, Jamila would grow up and perhaps—when she was forty or fifty or sixty years old—she’d get married. Derek would savor these moments with Jamila while he could. Time went by so fast.
“Looks like we’re ready for the day. Let’s open the store.”
Soon as he opened the door, the line of customers outside of the shop poured in. “Morning, ladies.” Derek propped the door open with his foot. He anticipated that a lot of folks would arrive today. Better to use the doorstop.
Mrs. Clark walked into the boutique. She was a longtime member of New Life. She pointed at the wall of pictures that Derek had displayed. They were black-and-white photos of his mother. They dated back to the early eighties when this boutique first opened up until his mother’s last year of life. Each photo told the story of Always a Bride’s beginnings and evolution over time.
“Look at Vivian,” Mrs. Clark said. “She was a beautiful woman.”
Mrs. Clark stepped close to the picture of his mother. Vivian had a big smile on her face and the key to the newly purchased shop in her hand. Her hair was in a neatly trimmed mini-Afro, and she wore faded corduroys and a peasant blouse.
Mrs. Clark laughed at the photo. “Your mother was quite the character.” She winked at Derek. “You’re doing a good job here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Clark walked past an empty mannequin that he’d forgotten to put away. Well, he didn’t actually forget to put it away. The mannequin was Maya’s favorite to display her gowns on. She said that the mannequin’s unique shape really enabled her to show off the details. Now the mannequin was bare. It didn’t feel right to put a dress on it after Maya left, so he didn’t. He should’ve put it up in the storage room. Derek made a mental note to do so when he got a free moment.
“If you’re looking for a sheath dress, Mrs. Clark, they’re all on this rack over here. Not sure if you prefer sheaths or A-lines, but we are well stocked in both,” Derek said.
“You really are taking ownership of this boutique,” Mrs. Clark said. “Never thought I’d see a man who knew so much about dresses.”
Derek smiled. “It’s a new day.”
“That’s a good thing.” Mrs. Clark tilted her head slightly. “Whatever happened to that pretty young bridal gown designer who worked here? She’s off today?”
He didn’t really want to think about Maya anymore; doing so brought up too many doubts. “She doesn’t work here anymore.”
“Oh really? I thought the two of you were . . . well, you know.” Mrs. Clark winked, but Derek didn’t take it as a joke.
“You thought we were what?”
“A couple. You two seemed to work so well together in the boutique. You were so adorable at the church fund-raising cookout.” Mrs. Clark riffled through some sheath dresses on a nearby rack.
Sadness overwhelmed him. They hadn’t communicated since Maya arrived in New York over a week ago. With each day that passed, the prospect of seeing Maya again grew dimmer, but this was expected. Derek would hear from her soon—he hoped. Derek didn’t say a thing to Mrs. Clark, and he forced himself to appear unmoved, just as he did with Jamila.
“I fell in love once.” Mrs. Clark glanced at him knowingly. “It was a long time ago, before I met my husband. I was seventeen years old. We enjoyed one summer together. Then he and his family moved away. Never saw him again, but I never forgot him either.”
“Oh.” Derek didn’t know what else to say to her story. She had been married for close to fifty years to the senior pastor at the church. Yet she still recalled this summer love—and she said she’d fallen in love once.
“But we move on, right?” Mrs. Clark continued. “We all move on in our own way.”
Derek sensed what she was talking about—the mass shooting at the church, the fact that Grace was taken from him so suddenly. Mrs. Clark was being tactful and kind by not mentioning it outright, knowing that he’d lost Grace on that horrible day. “Some things we can’t move on from completely. We simply remember them, honor them . . . and continue to live despite it all,” Derek said.
Mrs. Clark’s eyes shone with what looked like tears. “You’re right, son. You’re absolutely righ
t.”
He smiled. “I’m going to check on the rest of the customers, see if they’re doing okay.”
Derek headed toward a small crowd of customers who were admiring the latest wedding gown, which he’d positioned in the center of the store, when Jamila tugged on his shirtsleeve.
“Dad?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Do you think Miss Maya is happy in New York City?”
Miss Maya. Jamila still missed her. “I don’t know, Jamila. Quite honestly, I am not worrying about it. We have a life to live right here.”
She stepped back from him, surprise on her face. “We do?”
Derek paused. “Of course we do. I have to focus on you and keeping our business successful. That’s enough for me.”
Jamila’s eyes flitted back and forth, like she was trying to make sense of his words. Derek didn’t expect her to make sense of them. A part of Derek didn’t believe his own words, but he could trust that, with time and distance, he’d believe them one day.
“Okay, Dad. If that’s how you feel, then that’s how I feel too.”
Her voice was shaky as she said those words, and Derek gave her a hug. “You’re such a brave girl, do you know that?”
“No.”
“Well, you are. You’ve been through so much. Don’t worry about us grown-ups. We don’t know what we’re doing with our lives. We make lots of mistakes. We try to work them out, and we still mess up.”
“I can see that,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.
Derek suppressed a smile. Yet despite all his bravado, he did wonder whether Maya was happy with the decision she made. Would she find true happiness in her big-time job? Would she find true love? He wanted to call her again, just to see how she was doing, but he resisted the urge to do so this time. He didn’t want her attention to be divided.
Derek wasn’t about to tell Jamila how he really felt. No sense putting his daughter through another emotional roller coaster.
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