Fashionably Late (40 page)

How could she think about being a mother when she didn’t even have time to be a good aunt?

“Stephanie, you’re really doing great. You look fabulous in those slacks, and after you modeled the double-ply knit, three women tried it on. Don’t worry. This is just new for you. Of course you’re not used to it yet. But you will be.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my aunt,” Stephanie cried, but after a few moments she did stop crying. She wiped her eyes and sniffed, leaving a ghastly smear of black across her face, her hand, and down her wrist. Lucky she was only wearing her underwear. “You’re just saying it,” Stephanie repeated.

“No I’m not,” Karen told her. “I couldn’t afford to take the chance of losing sales right now. Business is business, Stephanie. I could have left you back at the showroom today.”

“Really? I’m really doing okay?”

“You’re gorgeous! And you’re doing a great job. Just don’t get that shit on your face all over the cashmere or I’ll kill you.” Karen gave the girl a hug and reached over her for some Kleenex. God, Stephie’s shoulders were bony! “So clean yourself up and get out there. I’ll even let you have a glass of champagne.” Karen smiled at her niece in the mirror and then saw Mindy Trawler reflected behind them. Shit.

Just what she needed! How much of this little scene had the journalist witnessed?

And how much would show up in print?

“The photographer is here,” Mindy Trawler said coolly. “Is this a good time for you?” She was holding a champagne flute in one hand and a tea sandwich in the other. She wasn’t drinking, was she? It must just be club soda, Karen told herself. “You could do a few pictures now?”

Mindy asked. “Maybe the two of you?”

“Want to be in the newspaper?” Karen asked Stephie.

“Sure.”

Karen smiled into the mirror. “Just give us a minute.” She told Stephanie to wash up and meanwhile Karen reached into her schlep bag, pulled out some concealer, and blended it under her eyes. Then she took out the big travel blusher brush she carried and covered her whole face with a powdering of Guerlaine’s terra-cotta. It gave the impression of a tan without any of the UVA violence to her skin. She put on a noncolor lipstick, but added a quick layer of gloss. Gloss reflected well in photos. Never a beauty, she looked in the mirror without much vanity.

Well, it would have to do. She stood up. The fabulous Japanese fabric trousers she had on were worth every penny: there wasn’t a wrinkle in them! Karen hated how most slacks got ICWţinstant crotch wrinkle. No one appreciated fabrics like the Japanese.

She heard another of those popping noises. Was someone being shot downstairs? That would be an extreme response to a make over. She took a look at her own make over. Not too bad.

But she’d managed to smear some of the bronzer powder onto her jacket shoulder. Well, that was easy to remedy. She pulled off the jacket and threw it onto the counter, grabbing another one off the rack. She gave herself a quick final glance in the mirror. Her stuff worked.

She walked out of the dressing room and onto the selling floor just in time to see Mindy Trawler pouring herself another glass of Dom Perignon. The stupid little bitch was drinking! Karen couldn’t remember whether fetal alcohol syndrome was more likely in the first or last trimester. Without thinking she walked up to the girl.

“You don’t really want that, do you?” she asked. “We have fresh orange juice and I think there’s herbal tea.”

“No thanks. This is great.”

“But it’s not really a good idea. I could send out for some other fresh fruit juice, if you like.”

“I’m fine,” Mindy Trawler said, and there was an edge to her voice that should have warned Karen to lay off. But she wasn’t in a lay-off mode.

“I’m not thinking of you, I’m thinking of your baby.”

By now, several of the women clustered around the table had turned and were watching the confrontation. “I’ll take care of my own baby, thank you very much,” Mindy said icily.

Mr. Crosby stepped forward and cleared his throat. He knew things had gone too far. “The photographer thought maybe you could stand over here, where we have your logo. It might be a good place for a shot,” he said, and took Karen by the arm. Stephanie joined her. Defina, her eyebrows raised, followed the two of them.

“We gonna have to give her more than a two-thousand-dollar jacket if we want good press now,” Defina warned Karen.

“Fuck her,” Karen said, and hoped her voice was loud enough to carry.

“Don’t give her anything. She doesn’t deserve to have a baby.”

“Guess that isn’t your call to make,” Defina told her. “Anyway, what do you expect when a sick bitch whelps? Babies full of rabies. So what?”

She patted Karen’s arm. “Smile nice for the boys with the camera,” she said. “I’ll get the fire department together, go back to the Trawler, and try to put out that little blaze.”

Karen spent an agonizing twenty minutes pretending to pin the hem on a dress that Stephanie modeled while the photographer and his assistant fiddled endlessly with the lights. She kept wanting to tell them that this wasn’t some kind of Avedon art shot but just a crappy black and white for the newspapers. She was just getting up from her knees when she looked across the floor and saw Bill Wolper step off the escalator.

She could hardly believe her eyes. What the hell was he doing here?

He turned toward the show activity and she watched as his eyes perused the crowd. Then he saw her and smiled. She lifted her hand in greeting. It was funny, but at the same time she felt her heart flutter. But maybe it was only her stomach. After all, she’d skipped lunch. She walked toward him.

“I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by,” he said with a grin. His teeth weren’t great, but she liked the fact that he’d resisted caps and that he had a dimple on one side of his mouth when he smiled.

It was cute, just the one dimple. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“It was going fine before I pissed off the reporter who’s covering us.

She’ll probably pan me.”

“The press,” Bill said with a dismissive shrug. “One of my business associates came to me for advice: he couldn’t decide if he should buy into a Nevada whorehouse or a newspaper. I told him I didn’t know the difference.”

Karen laughed. Bill smiled and showed that single dimple. “Well,” he said, “now my day hasn’t been completely wasted. At least I’ve made you laugh.”

They stood there for a moment together. Karen was tired, but this was the best she had felt all day. “So,” Bill said, “when do you knock off?

Even you can’t work all the time. Can I take you to dinner?”

Karen looked down at her watch. It was a quarter to five. They had at least an hour of packing up to do, then the schlep out to O”Hare for the flight back. But she could knock off right after the wrap, have dinner, and take a later flight. “The last O”Hare flight I can catch is at nine,” she told Bill.

“Let’s kill two birds with one stone. My 727 is at Midtown airport.

It’s a shorter commute and the food isn’t bad. What do you say?”

Karen blinked. “Yes. I say yes,” Karen said, and turned back to make the new arrangements.

When Karen told Defina how she was getting home, Dee had raised her brows again. Then, out of nowhere, she asked, “When’s the last time you and Jeffrey did the thang?”

The truth was that Karen hadn’t been able to remember. But they were busy. A lot was happening. “None of your business,” she had said.

“Why do you ask?”

Defina jerked her head in the direction of Bill Wolper. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know what he’s up to,” Defina had said. “And if it’s the same thing, you’re going to be doing it at thirty thousand feet.”

“Come on, Dee, give me a break. I’m just hitching back a ride in a private jet. What’s the big deal?” Karen had asked.

“The big deal is the big deal. That kind of man will mess with your body so he can mess with your mind. I mean it, Karen. Be careful,” Defina warned. Karen promised to be careful. Then Defina grinned.

“You hear those popping noises today?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Karen said. “Were they serving champagne downstairs too?”

“Only in Norris Cleveland’s dreams. It was her perfume bottles. They were exploding.”

“What?” Karen asked.

“You heard me. Something was wrong with the packaging. Under the hot lights the perfume expanded. You can imagine the rest. Broken glass and stink all over everything. People were gagging. Next they’ll be suing.

They have to recall it all.”

Karen began to laugh. “Oh Jesus! What a fiasco!”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl,” Defina said with a wicked grin.

Karen nodded. “There is a God,” she said.

Now Karen sat at the cleared table of the NormCo 727. She lifted the little wooden stirrer that had crystalized sugar rocked around it and dipped it in her cappuccino. Dinner had been better than good, and Bill had been interesting, attentive, and a perfect gentleman. Karen wondered, just for an instant, if she was disappointed by that. The thought shocked her. If there was one thing she knew about herself, she knew she wasn’t that kind of girl. She and Jeifrey had resolved their problems. Things were good again. So what was she thinking of?

“So, did you hear about the ruckus on the main floor?” Bill asked.

“No,” Karen said innocently.

“It seems that your friend Norris’s perfume was bottled when the liquid was cold.”

“Is that a problem?” Karen asked.

“Didn’t you take physics in high school?” Bill asked. “When molecules heat they expand. But there was no room to expand in those goddamned bottles.”

“So it wasn’t champagne that I heard.”

Bill laughed. “No, it was the sound of a business failing. Norris won’t be able to talk her way out of this.”

Karen thought of the cynical remarks Bill had made at their last lunch.

Karen was glad at least one perfume would fail and women wouldn’t be sold false hope. Bill seemed pleased with Norris’s failure, but wouldn’t he be happy to sell junk if it increased NormCo’s bottom line?

But she had to question her moral ground. Who was she to judge anyone?

Hadn’t she just spent the day selling very costly clothes to very wealthy women? Where was the glory in that? She hadn’t even had a chance to check out the bridge line with its more modest prices.

The steward brought a salver of paper-thin mints and cookies, then discreetly withdrew. They drank their coffee in silence. Karen had stayed in some of the world’s best hotels, and Jeffrey had introduced her to a level of elegant living she’d never known before, but Bill Wolper’s totally understated and completely luxurious way of life was on a new level, and one that Karen could appreciate. The food had been perfectly prepared, the table had been perfectly laid, and the appointments in the plane seemed beautifully arranged. There wasn’t a scratch or a mark or a stain on anything. She felt as if she were in a costly jewelry case, and the surroundings were the mounting for a precious gem. She smiled to herself. There I go, thinking about mountings again. She couldn’t help wondering whether Wolper was one to show as much attention to detail in bed.

She wondered what he would think of her if she told him all the things that were really on her mind. If he knew that she was adopting a childţor trying toţwould he be afraid she wasn’t dedicated enough? If he knew about her search for her mother, would he think she was flaky?

Whatever the answer was, she knew she couldn’t take a chance.

“Would you like to see the rest of the plane?” he asked.

“Sure,” she told him. Aside from the salon and the dining area, which doubled as a conference room, Bill showed her the office complete with word processors, fax machines, and a phone console more complex than the one at IKInc. There were two full bathrooms, and then Bill took her down a narrow central hallway toward the back of the plane. He opened a cabin door and there was a bedroom, complete with a pencil-post canopy bed! He opened another, smaller door and there was another bathroom, this one with a tub.

“I’ve never heard of a bathtub on a plane before,” she said. “Does the FAA approve?”

“I had to have it,” Bill explained. “It wasn’t to show off. I just can’t bear to shower. Never have. I’m a bath man. How about you?”

“I’m not a man at all,” she said, and moved smoothly out of the bedroom and back down the hall. Bill followed her, and if he was disappointed or impatient he didn’t show it.

“Let’s sit down in the salon,” he suggested. They moved past the steward who was clearing the table. The plane lurched as they got into the open area of the salon, but Bill steadied Karen and helped her to a seat on the suede sofa. “Something to drink?” he asked.

“No, thanks,” she told him. She knew that now was the time for him to apply the pressure and, sure enough, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“You know, Karen, I don’t want to rush you, but we can’t stall your husband and my lawyers for much longer. I need your answer. Do you think I would make a good partner to you?”

Well, of course that was why he had shown up. Had she thought it was just to see her? Sometimes her own naivete surprised her. And she owed him an answer. He’d been very patient. Of course, he had used some hardball tactics. His appearance with Norris Cleveland had certainly been a warning of sorts, hadn’t it?

“We’ve been through your numbers with a fine-toothed spreadsheet program. You know, you’ve got a lot of problems. Basil figures you have threequarters of a million dollars in receivables that are as good as uncollectible. You need cash bad, and instead you got returns up the ying-yang, about twelve percent. I know you’re just start up, but the industry average is only three to six percent. I could help you with all of that.”

She looked across at the man. She remembered Bobby Pillar’s words of caution and she knew that Bill was called just about every name in the book. From Wall Street to the Ginza he was loathed and feared. But, stupid as it seemed, she liked him, and maybe she should trust him.

Jeffrey thought so. Karen had started the adoption process. Tomorrow morning the home visit was taking place, and Kramer’s office was already drawing up the intent-to adopt papers. Surely a baby would be found. She’d made the deal with Jeffrey, and she’d have to stick to it.