“Well, the party is a little short notice.” Her mother was really nervous now, though. “It’s in a week, but I’m certain we can accommodate the date.”
She was going to scream.
“That is so past very short notice, Mother, that it’s ludicrous. The only gowns we have at the moment are the ones commissioned for the Lanceister Ball. There’s not enough time to commission for that ball and attend this one as well. And we’ve already committed to the Lanceisters; we can’t back out,” she reminded her mother, pushing her fingers deep, deep into the pockets of her capris to hide her fists. “Perhaps Director Wyatt should just look into a later announcement to the press. One that isn’t so—”
“We’ve already discussed it with the Lanceisters and Mr. Wyatt, Gypsy,” Jason informed her firmly, pointedly ignoring the sharp look she directed his way. Since when the hell was he king of the mountain around here? “The party was arranged a bit quickly, but the caliber of the guests demands a more formal atmosphere and dress. Never fear, there’s time to arrange more dresses for this fall. You and your mother could even make a trip to L.A., perhaps, and do a bit of shopping there. Or New York.”
She wanted to curl her lip into an insulting little sneer as Jason watched her with an unfamiliar gleam of triumph. What the hell was his agenda with this little party anyway? Getting her and her mother on a shopping trip? Did he really think it was going to work like it did in the movies? They’d come home all mushy-mushy and her parents would have forgotten the part she played in Mark’s death?
She didn’t think so.
But, as he said, getting new gowns wasn’t an issue. It was the idea of such short notice for such a very important event. Press notices needed to be arranged, a list of guests needed vetting and discussions were needed with the reporters affiliated with McQuade Image Consulting to discuss the articles that would best portray the Breeds as benefiting the area socially and financially.
The fact that Wyatt was acting as though this were something that could just be thrown together worried her even more than the dress situation did.
She let Jason and her parents ramble on about opportunities, clients and contracts, unwilling to burst their bubble. Hopefully, Jonas Wyatt wasn’t playing some cruel hoax at Commander Breaker’s behest and could manage to do his magic as normal until her parents could pull in their own magic. If this was some game, or joke, then she just might sue.
Or threaten to anyway.
Even she had heard about the hungry volcano Jonas was rumored to introduce his enemies to on occasion.
It was enough to make her want to kick Wyatt and his commander.
“A car will be picking us up for the ball,” her mother informed her as Gypsy came to her feet, preparing to leave the office. “You can have the next week off to get ready. Be sure to call the boutique this afternoon and see if Connie can get you in before the meeting this evening.”
Connie.
Gypsy almost sighed.
That was a very subtle hint that her mother thought her hair needed trimming and her nails might need some work. Greta McQuade was very particular about appearance when it came to McQuade Image Solutions. She slid an unobtrusive look to her nails.
Okay, she might need a manicure.
“And the meeting with Director Wyatt and his commander is this evening, don’t forget.” Her mother was sounding more worried now than she had moments before. “I’ll call Connie and see if she can’t get both of us in within the next few hours myself.”
Connie loved her mother.
The beautician had nearly gone bankrupt several years before, and it had been Greta McQuade who had used a few favors, worked a little magic, and within six months, Connie’s salon couldn’t keep up with the influx of appointments being requested. Gypsy had no doubt in her mind that Connie would schedule them within the next two hours.