Always the Last Word (Always the Bridesmaid #4)(27)

I nod, not sure if she's satisfied with this information or not.

"I would have rather used new materials, but I didn't really have the extra income to make it happen. The only thing I had to buy was the thread and a handful of notions. Beads, ribbon, you know."

"Why are you showing me this?" she asks as she inspects the dress more closely. She runs a finger across a side seam.

"Because you saw it in the show last night. Isn't this what you wanted to talk to me about?" I ask, suddenly feeling a little dizzy.

"I didn't realize that was my design."

Oh my God, I just ratted myself out. Dammit, me. And now I'm going to be fired. I knew I shouldn't have pried. I just couldn't help it. Honestly, how could anyone not make copies of her designs and spends countless nights tearing apart an old dress to make a new one from the shreds of fabric?

"I didn't intend to use it for the show, but it worked so well."

"Are you saying that my design for a wedding dress worked well in a play about aliens?"

I can't decide if she's angry or amused. Either way, I feel like I'm a dead woman. I start explaining very rapidly. I mention the modern feel of the dress and how the play sort of needed a wedding dress and …  I can't handle the suspense any longer.

"Am I fired?" I ask, slumping back into the chair.

Connie stares down at me and sighs loudly.

And then she bursts out laughing.

"Is that a no?" I ask, not sure what else to make of her reaction.

"It's a no," she says as she clutches at her side. Still chuckling, she says, "I wanted to meet with you this morning to offer you a promotion. That was before finding out you went through my personal belongings, however."

I suddenly feel faint. A promotion?

"I, um, the sketches were all on top of your desk and I swear to you, they were calling to me and--"

She raises her hand to stop me from rattling on and I scrunch back into the chair. "I know. I'm actually touched by your sneaky ways, Evie. This gown is beautiful and, seeing your work on it makes me that much more sure of what I wanted to propose to you." She takes her seat at the desk and clasps her hands. "Darlene in alterations is retiring. If you want to become head of the department, it's all yours."

"Really?" I ask, not sure how to feel about what is a very lucrative promotion.

Connie nods. "I know you've been floating between being a consultant and filling in at alterations. I thought you would like something permanent. And you are more than capable of handling alterations," she says as she gestures to the dress. "So, what do you say?"

"I really love helping brides pick out gowns," are the first words out my mouth.

"You could still assist with that, maybe an appointment a week?"

I nod, still not knowing what to say to this news. I was expecting to be handed a pink slip, not a promotion. And then it hits me; I know exactly what I want.

"I will gladly accept the position, but only if you allow me to make your designs reality and put them out for brides."

Connie narrows her eyes at me, and I can tell she's trying her best not to smile. "You do realize that this isn't a negotiation, right?"

"I know, but I can't in good conscience let your designs go unknown. And you have so many of the fabrics needed already in stock and you know that Jamie will organize all of the ordering and make sure to combine the best products for the cheapest shipping rate. She will put together a business model, the inventory, all of it. You know that she'll do it whether you ask her to or not."



       
         
       
        

Connie laughs but shakes her head just as Jamie walks into the office.

"I heard my name," she says as her eyes fall on the mannequin. "This is beautiful. Why haven't I seen this before?" She doesn't wait for either of us to answer. "I want this dress."

"What?" Connie and I ask in unison. I don't know which of us sound more surprised.

"This is my wedding dress," Jamie says, and her voice lets us know that there's no reason to argue with her about it.

"What about your five year plan?" I ask, smiling.

Jamie ignores me as she searches the dress for a label. "Who's the designer?"

"Your aunt," I say, grinning at Connie.

"What?" Jamie shouts, spinning around so fast that her dark hair swings and hits her in the face. She looks at her aunt in nothing but astonishment. "You made this?" she asks, her hair still stuck to her lips.

"Technically, Evie made it. I designed it."

Jamie looks from Connie to me, not sure who to address first. She finally gives up and turns back to the gown. "This is my dress."

"Then we'll name it after you," Connie says as she rises to her feet. "Each design will be named after the woman that inspires it."

"I inspired it?" Jamie asks, her eyes shiny.

"I suppose so. It's modern and clean. It wasn't intentional, but this is a Jamie Valentine gown if I've ever seen one," Connie says as she squeezes her niece's shoulders.

"Your daughter is going to murder you when she learns that you didn't design a gown for her," Jamie jokes as a way to distract us from the fact that she's crying.

"She would have hated it if I did," Connie says before turning back to me. "Fine. You win, Evie. Head of alterations, a consulting appointment once a week, and permission to make my dress designs available for purchase at the shop."

She sticks her hand out for me to shake but I ignore it and wrap her in a hug. I don't want her to see that Jamie isn't the only one crying.





Chapter Twenty-Five



"Hey, Carter," I say slowly as I make my way to the bar.

He turns around in his barstool and gives me smallest of smiles.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"I left my jacket here the other night after the cast party for that show I designed costumes for," I explain as I look at Carter. The boy looks like hell. He has bags under his eyes, his lips are chapped, and even the beanie on his head looks sad and droopy. "So, how are you?"

"Great, can't you tell?" He lets out a bark of a laugh as he raises his drink to his mouth. After a hearty gulp, he stares out across the bar. "I love her, you know." 

"I know you do. And you know she loves you too, right?"

"But it wasn't enough," he mutters into his mostly empty glass.

I pat his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Carter. You know that I wanted you and Rachel to work out. You probably don't even know how much I wanted you two to stay together. But, you know something? Instead of drinking in misery, you should be drinking in celebration. Now you can go out and find someone who you love and who loves you so much that going to the end of the world wouldn't make you think twice."

Carter blinks at me a few times. "No offense, Evie, but that's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

I chuckle. "Fair enough. But I am right."

I get the bartender's attention and request my jacket.

"You know, you could use this experience for that great American novel you keep threatening to write," I suggest as the bartender hands my jacket over to me.

A corner of Carter's mouth twitches, and I get just the tiniest hint of a smile. It fades quickly though as he shakes his head. "If I can even get to my apartment and get to my laptop. Adam has lost his damn mind."

"I can believe that."

"Can you blame the dude, though? His ex storms into the place, practically assaults him, and then manages to run off some chick that he liked."

Wait. What?

"What are you talking about?" I ask, trying to seem relaxed and indifferent and not like I'm screaming internally. I plop onto the barstool next to Carter and wait for details.

"Zoe came over the other night and was this crying heap of a mess. So, being the gullible bastard that he is, Adam invited her in thinking that something was wrong. It all ended up being a ploy to win him back. He said she kept throwing herself on him every time he tried to make her leave. And then this girl that Adam likes stopped by and saw the lipstick on him and got the wrong idea. He's been cooking ever since. The apartment is covered in cupcakes and breads. I've gained seven pounds this week."

Oh my God. I am such an idiot.

"That, um, that sucks for him," I say.

Carter chuckles. "You'll forgive me if I don't feel too bad for him right now."

I smile. "Didn't I see that your book is already a bestseller and it hasn't even been released yet?"

"I'm a bestseller in the Kentucky Political Science Author category. There are only two other books in the category."

"And yours is number one," I say with a smile.

"And mine is number one," he says and cracks the tiniest of grins. He looks down at his phone to check the time. He eyes the last sip of bourbon in his glass. "I'm going to polish this off and call a cab. Adam said he'd be back to the house by 11. It'd be nice to have an hour without being force-fed lavender and honey cookies."

"Your life does sound tough," I say, my mouth watering at the thought of cookies. "Where's Adam? Out on a date?"

Carter snorts. "Shit no. He's at the bakery. He needed a bigger oven than what we have at the apartment to bake some sort of cake."