Rose of Betrayal (59 page)

CHAPTER 46

           
Sam
began pouring every ounce of energy into her business.
 
Especially grateful for the diversion for it
became the release she craved from lingering memories of Brad, and her newest
betrayal.
 

           
Though
during her monthly visits to the doctor he explained the changes that would
take place in her hormonal level, she was finding it difficult to control the
mood swings and yet, welcomed the emotional roller coaster as a reminder of the
life growing inside.
 
Part of her was
anxious to design and wear loose, comfortable coordinates in varying shades of
pastel colors to announce to the world her newly discovered condition. Another
part warned it was too soon.
 
It was
imperative to be rational, force her feelings back into proper
perspective.
 
There was too much to do.

           
News
pertaining to a new clothing boutique spread quickly in New York.
 
In no time she was inundated with orders from
young single socialites, slightly too thin with high cheekbones, reeking of pampered
indolence with nothing to do but consume their days preparing for their next
social event.
 
Covetous women loved
social position, possessions, wealth, and having their vanity stroked, among
other things by some admiring male.
 
Sam
was amazed at the obscene amount of money they spent on their wardrobes,
obvious gifts from their sugar daddy’s making a six-digit price tag for one
creation mediocre.

           
The
steady influx of capital empowered her creativity.
 
Her designs, fashioned from the latest
fabrics, sequins, rhinestones, and pearls soon became the most sought after in
Manhattan.
 
Although most of the
exclusive dress studios were a force to be reckoned with Samantha’s had already
become the talk of the younger female social set.
 
In a month, she would be ready for her
initial fashion show another link in the chain pulling her to the top of the
ladder.

           
Knowing
it took luck as much as talent she considered the exact market she was aiming for,
expensive enough to be relatively exclusive, but not crazy prices of
couture.
 
Her début of three collections;
winter, summer, and beach wear, would include suits, day dresses, evening
gowns, and casual attire, all paramount in ensuring the evolution of her
dream.
 

           
Sam's
long working hours now competed with those of Ted's.
 
She began at seven each morning, and when Ted
was gone on business, often worked late into the evening, sketching inspired
designs surrounded by bolts of material and samples of accessories collected
from trips to trimming firms.

           
Creating
was only one facet, turning them into finished garments another.
 
First, she had to cut paper patterns, then
copies of the clothes made in an inexpensive muslin type fabric in case
amendments were necessary, the most nerve-racking of all cutting the pattern
into the actual material.

           
No
show could be a success without the proper models. Sam determined she would
require at least three besides Bernie.
 
Advertising inundated her with applications needing sorting,
investigating, and interviewing.
 
After
the hiring process, she then decided what each model wore, selecting
accessories to match. When finished the accessories were placed in muslin bags
attached to the relevant dress hanger.

           
The
end of May arrived too quickly.
 
Three
hundred and fifty guests packed into one of the Waldorf Astoria’s ballrooms,
the dressing room over flowing with dress rails and models prattling while
applying their make-up and adjusting their hairpieces.
 
Dressers agitatedly selected the correct
garments, removing their protective covering to examine the accessories.
 
Tailors took last minute tucks and
stitches.
 
Minor crises were normal; a
broken button, a stuck zipper, or an inexplicable spot on a gown causing
hysteria before expunged, problems with microphones, speakers and lights.

           
Suddenly
the hall filled with riotous applause, photographers snapped pictures,
newspaper reporters asked questions and it was over.
 
Of all the models, Bernie was a
sensation.
 
As the likely designer of the
year, Sam took her place in the spotlight.
  
The day she yearned for, worked so hard for, came, and went.
 

           
Returning
to the shop, propping her feet on her desk she took a long refreshing
breath.
 
In front of her lay success
voted upon by checks and orders.
 
Since
her shop opened, her bank account flourished quickly, but not rapidly enough to
suit her. Ted had provided the financial muscle to give her a start and Brad
the location.
 
Oppressive was the need to
pay them back every cent.
 

           
It
would take some time to fulfill her last dream, financial independence, the
final step in evoking Brad's memory and gaining self-sufficiency.
 
Soon she would become an emancipated woman
who did not require a male to prop her ego, to provide for her financially or,
be a father to her child.

Maggie was one of Sam's
rare senior customer's, frequently stopping in to browse and chat.
 
Sam enjoyed her company, but suspected Maggie
was keeping abreast of her achievements to inform Brad.
 
If so, she was thankful her older friend was
gracious enough never to mention his name.

           
It
was bad enough whenever Maggie was in the studio, inevitably a different
voluptuous, gorgeous young woman who knew Maggie would enter.
 
The conversation always revolved around Brad,
his whereabouts, how long he would be gone, how much he was missed, and if she
thought he would ever settle down, and when he did what they would give to be
the one chosen.
 
They would tell Maggie
to send their regards and to apprise him they would be available any night he
was in town.
 
As Maggie endeavored to
change the subject, Sam felt her gaze of sympathy upon her.

           
Moodily
Sam reflected, Brad was nothing more than a child who went for gooey, heavily
iced deserts unaware once the icing was gone all that remained was unappealing
crumbs.
 
She was far more enterprising,
far more aware knowing the very best things in life, were often disguised by
the ugliest of exteriors, except perhaps, Brad.

           
Each
occurrence convinced her more than ever she had made the right decision.
 
Although she did not desire Ted sexually, she
loved him in her own way.
 
Now there was
a very important reason to forget Brad, Ted's baby.
 
If it was the last thing she did, she was
determined to be the best wife a man could ever want.
 
She had to be to convince Ted their baby would
not change anything between them.
 

           
To
accomplish her goal, she vowed each day to build the dam higher holding back
the flood of Brad’s memories threatening to spill over and drown her chances of
happiness.
   
Each day she succeeded, her
confidence grew stronger until the day a stranger entered the shop.

           
Alongside
Bernie, she was busy organizing apparel on the racks.
 
Both welcomed the female, introduced
themselves, and asked if they could be of assistance.
 
   
The
visitor's beauty was, excessive with an elegant bone structure, sophisticated
manner, and actions correct.
 
She had a
sleek models figure, long supple legs like those of a thoroughbred as she moved
with quick graceful strides.
 
Sam
wondered if she recognized the woman from a Glamour magazine cover.

After shaking Bernie's
hand the visitor's well-manicured red fingertips reaching for Sam's clung as
she spoke.
 
“I have been anxious to visit
your shop and to meet you in person.
 
I knew
you would have to be someone very special.
 
I have heard such wonderful things about you and have seen your
magnificent creations.
 

           
“I'm
an old friend of Brad’s and Ted's.
  
Noticing your picture and wedding announcement in the paper I wanted to
extend my congratulations.
 
Due to
extensive travel for work, I’m rarely in New York anymore.” Pausing, a slightly
uneasy expression etched her face.
 
“Just
listen to me, I've been rattling on and haven't introduced myself.
 
You may know me by my career name Candice
Crawford.
 
My real name is Candy Ewing
McDonald.”

           
White
stars burst in front of Sam's eyes, her skin blanched, weakness, stabbing her
bones, made her hand go limp in Candy's grasp.
 
Frightened Sam was going to faint, Bernie managed to support her weight
in time.

“Is she alright?
 
I'm so sorry.
 
I didn't mean,” Candy stammered.

           
In
as much shock as Sam, Bernie collected the remnants of her composure enough to
respond, “Oh no, Ms. McDonald.
 
It's
nothing you have done.
 
You see Sam has
been working very hard and isn't feeling well.”

“Oh, that's too bad.
 
I mean, about feeling punk.”
 
Looking Sam directly in the eye Candy
questioned, “May I call you Sam?”
 
Candy
felt Sam's scrutiny, her caution.

Silence stretched tautly while Sam's
eyes enlarged in panicked supplication.
 
Finally, smiling a faint smile tinged with hostility, “Of course.”

           
The
two women helped Sam to a chair.
 
Candy
sat beside her while Bernie prepared hot coffee.

Slowly, Sam gained ground on her
composure.
 
“I'm sorry I made such a fool
out of myself.”

A smile lit up Candy's sparkling,
clear, powder blue eyes. “Nonsense, apologies aren't necessary.”

           
Bernie
returned with a tray of coffee and petite cookies, and then sat beside
Sam.
 
As they sipped at their coffee
Candy explained she had recently returned from her ranch in Wyoming and was
extremely surprised to find Brad at home.
 
Pausing briefly, you could see the concern etching her face.
  
She had noticed Brad’s face was thin and
lined from distress.
 
He had misplaced
his typical roguish personality.
 
Having
brought so much happiness into others' lives, she wondered what happened to
cause him such misery.
 
Continuing on to
her next assignment in Europe was impossible until speaking to Maggie in hopes
of finding out what was troubling Brad.
 
Not once alluding to what Maggie said, she rambled on about meeting Ted
and Brad during a spring break when they were in their senior year in college
and vaguely referred to the good times they had shared.

           
Sam
became disturbed when Candy's conversation suddenly shifting to Brad turned her
expression warm and tender. Her breathtaking eyes sparkled.
 
The same countenance Sam recognized on
Bernie's face and those of the women visiting her studio. There was no doubt
Brad’s charisma made them all fall head over heels in love with him.

           
Candy's
visit though brief was extraordinarily informative, as if her intention all
along.
 
Before leaving, facing Sam, Candy
said less than convincingly, “I wish you and Ted happiness.
 
You have a friend in me if you ever need
one.
 
Don't hesitate to put that to the
test.”

           
Candy
secured a promise upon her next visit to New York Sam would design something
special for her to wear for an upcoming photo session.
 
She hoped the media exposure would help
skyrocket Sam’s business.
 
Besides,
helping a friend of Brad's was the least she could do in some small way to
repay him for all he had done for her.
 
Smiling warmly, she left.
 
Bernie
returned to help customers with their selections.