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“Brea
The wax dummies moved. Every last head turned from me to Brea
She glanced at them. “Leave us, please.”
Just like that, the entourage flowed out the door.
Now her eyes were back on me. “Close it, Clare.”
With a deep breath I shut the door, and we faced each other.
One hundred years ago, when Versace’s boutique was still a town house and Teddy Roosevelt was dedicating the old police station down on Charles Street, the residents of Fifth Avenue didn’t think much about Greenwich Village. When they thought of it at all, it was a distant outpost, where servants lived and the lower classes did their shopping. The Village was quite the opposite these days, with its high-end real estate and chic eateries, but you wouldn’t think so the way Brea
“What are you wearing?”
“Cut the crap, Brea
“Stop.” She held up her hand. “I know what Matt believes.”
“From your tone, I’m guessing you think he’s overreacting?”
“Of course.”
“Well then…” I crossed my arms. “I guess we’re both humoring him today.”
Brea
“It’s not that I think Matt’s completely crazy,” I clarified. “There might be something to his worries. But mostly I think he’s overwrought. So why don’t you and I just make the best of it? I’ll hang out with you today, and you let me know if you see or hear anything suspicious. Deal?”
Brea
“Brilliant, Brea
She rolled her eyes. “Look. I’m under a great deal of stress this week. I really don’t need your attitude, either.”
Touché. “You’re right… I’m sorry.”
Brea
“Yes. I really am. For instance…” I took a step closer, pointed to the printout in her hand. “Who do you know that would be so nasty as to send a fake e-mail to ruin your final fitting?”
Brea
“Do you trust your assistant?”
“Yes, of course. Terri’s been with me four years. She has a bright future at Trend and knows it. I’m promoting her in a few months-after things settle down and I can start interviewing for a new girl.”
“Any rivalries in your office that have turned ugly lately?”
“My people are trustworthy, Clare.”
She dismissively waved her French-tipped fingers. But I found the answer far too pat. I could also see that she was getting uncomfortable.
“Let me ask you something else then. I noticed a man in front of the boutique. He’s a big guy, probably in his fifties, has an ex-boxer’s sort of build. Short brown crew cut, crooked nose, wears off-the-rack suits. Do you know anyone with that description?”
“Clare, really.” Brea
“Well, do yourself a favor, okay? Keep an eye out for a man like that. If you see him loitering around your apartment building, for instance, or shadowing your movements, please let Matt or me know, all right?”
Brea
“What’s your schedule today?”
She checked her slim, jeweled timepiece. “Roman and I already ate a bite of lunch. We’ll be going back to the office after I’m done here. I’ve got meetings all afternoon. Matt’s picking me up for cocktails and di
“Nunzio? The Italian sculptor?”
“Yes, he’s flying in from Rome, staying at the Mandarin.” She checked her watch again. “He should have arrived last night, although I haven’t heard from him yet.”
“He’s designing your rings, isn’t he? Matt mentioned it.”
Nunzio was also lending Brea
I still didn’t know how Brea
It was also an extremely valuable opportunity for publicity, not only for the Village Blend but for my friend Janelle Babcock, a gifted pastry chef who was just launching her new catering business. The entire tablescape was going to be photographed and appear in a splashy Trend spread-apparently as part of a bigger profile on Nunzio-and both Janelle and I were going be credited in the caption along with our businesses.
“Yes, Nunzio is a genius,” Bree said. “I couldn’t be more pleased with his wedding ring design. I’ve only seen sketches and a digital photo, but he’ll be bringing the actual rings to our meeting at six today. We’re featuring them in the magazine.”
I tapped my chin, thinking Bree’s day over. “If Matt’s going to be picking you up at your office, then I’ll stay with you till he comes. That’ll make him happy,” I added quickly before Brea
Brea
“Yes.”
Another sigh. Then she looked me up and down again. “You can’t wear that to my office, Clare. We have advertisers and VIPs coming through all the time. We have an image, you understand?”
“But I’m not part of your staff, so why would-”
Brea
The boutique manager was a small-boned, stylish woman, a head shorter than Bree and probably ten years older. Her short, ci
“Please find this woman something to wear,” Bree said, then lowered her voice. “Keep it under seven.”
“Thousand?” Adele asked quietly.
“Hundred,” Brea
“I can’t afford that!” I interjected (neglecting to keep my voice down).
Brea
I tried not to choke on that one. Seven hundred had been my monthly mortgage payment back in New Jersey. But if Her Highness was paying, I figured what the heck. At least I could boast to Mike Qui
“Okay,” I said, effectively green-lighting the assault on my dignity.