Silent Night 3(14)

“Fine.” Pam gestured toward the door. “Come on, Willow. Let’s go home and make sure we have all the supplies we need.” She picked up the shopping bags. “See you in the morning, Reva.”

“Right. Eight-thirty sharp,” Reva ordered. “And bring your lunches, okay? You’ll be too busy to go out.”

Pam nudged Willow through the door. As they slipped on their coats, they could hear Reva boasting to Grace about Reva Wear.

“‘Eight-thirty sharp,’” Willow said, mimicking Reva’s bossy tone of voice. “ ‘Bring your lunch. You won’t have time to go out.’ ” She tossed her head. “I won’t be surprised if she chains us to the sewing tables.”

“Sssh, she’ll hear you,” Pam warned. She pulled open the heavy front door and followed Willow outside.

“That cousin of yours is bad news,” Willow declared. Her pale eyes were icy with anger. “Real bad news.”

“I know. But at least people will be buying our scarves. And we’ll be making some money,” Pam reminded her. “That’s what we really care about—right?”

Willow turned back and glared at the house. “Reva won’t get away with this,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Don’t worry, Pam. I won’t let her get away with this!”





Chapter 10





DEATH THREAT


Reva watched the elevator light and tapped her foot impatiently. Why couldn’t this thing move faster?

She glanced at her watch. Almost ten. She’d been up in one of the executive offices at Dalby’s since nine this morning, working on plans for her scarf show. She was on her way down now to audition the models.

Only one day until the first show, she thought, glancing at the elevator light again. Only one, and she had a ton of stuff to do to get ready.

But it will be worth it, she promised herself. Because Reva Wear will be the hit of the season.

And I’ll be the hit of the fashion world.

The elevator settled to a stop on the main floor. With a smile, Reva swept through the doors and hurried down a hallway toward the room where the models waited.

As she passed an open door, she glanced inside. The tiny windowless room, usually used for storing boxes and shopping bags, had been cleared out. Two tables crammed with sewing supplies stood against one wall and a long wooden table sat in the middle of the floor. Pam and Willow leaned over the table, unrolling a bolt of black material.

Reva frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re just getting started.”

Pam raised her head. “Oh, Reva. Hi. No, we already cut out a bunch of other material.”

“Good.” Reva started to move on.

“Reva?”

She stopped, tapping her foot again.

Pam came around the table. Multicolored thread clung to her hair and pale blue sweatshirt. A yellow tape measure dangled around her neck, and one of her sneakers was untied.

Good thing she’s working behind the scenes, Reva thought. And her tacky friend, too.

Willow wore a skin-tight tank top and black jeans tucked into scuffed black boots. Reva sniffed. Probably rode to work on her Harley. And was that actually a tattoo on her shoulder?

Reva shuddered and turned to Pam. “What is it?” she demanded. “I have a lot to do.”

“I know. But we have to talk,” Pam told her.

Sighing loudly, Reva checked her watch. “Make it fast, okay?”

“Sure.” Pam stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “We need to set up our business arrangement with you. You know, a contract.”

“It’s really important,” Willow chimed in.

“So is getting some scarves made, or you won’t need any contract,” Reva pointed out. “Listen, I’ll talk to Daddy’s lawyer later today. But right now, I absolutely have to go audition the models. I’ll stop by and check on you later.”

As she turned away, Reva noticed Willow staring at her. Glaring was more like it. Those blue eyes reminded Reva of marbles—hard and cold.

What’s her problem, anyway? she wondered, hurrying down the hall. Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is that I’m giving them a chance?

“Reva!” a voice called out behind her.

Reva spun around and smiled as her father walked briskly toward her. “Hi, Daddy. I was just about to audition the models for the Reva Wear show. The Shadyside Agency was really excited when I called them this morning. They said they’d send over some of their best ones.”

“That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about,” Robert Dalby told her. “I know you were planning on hiring three models, but it will have to be two.”

“But, Daddy, I already worked out the whole routine! And it needs three models,” Reva protested. “Two won’t work at all!”