Sex and the Widow Miles (The Women of Willow Bay) (21 page)

“
I wondered why it disappeared from the dining room.” Carrie’s eyes twinkled as she scribbled on the clipboard. “Okay, antiques to wicked sisters, boxes to storage, everything else to the tag sale.”

She put an arm around me when we turned to go back downstairs.
“I’m so proud of you. A few months ago, you never could’ve done this. But here you are, kickin’ ass and being deliciously ruthless.”

“
Yeah, well…” I gave her sidelong glance. “Surprising how easy it is now. It’s only stuff and most of it, not even
my
stuff.”

“
Can I say something?” Carrie turned to me at the bottom of the stairs, hugging the clipboard to her chest. She had that sheepish yet sly smile that always prece
ded her dabbling into areas of my life I hadn’t opened up to her—yet.

“
You can say anything at all, you know that. Absolutely
anything
.” I suspected she was about to bring up Will Brody, and her next words confirmed my suspicions.

“
I don’t know what’s gone on with you and Will, but—” Brow furrowing, she hesitated. “He’s a great guy and I think he’s—well, I think he might be falling in love with you.”

“
That’s what he said.” Our eyes met as we plopped down on the steps for what was destined to be a very personal conversation.

“
God, are you kidding? He said that?” Carrie’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Seriously?”

“
Right before–before we went up to the winery.” My face heated.

God, how juvenile—
this is my dearest friend. We can talk about anything.

Carrie clearly didn
’t miss the blush on my cheeks because she gazed at me affectionately. “Have you been doing the nasty with our Will?”

I couldn
’t resist chuckling. After all the times I’d wheedled and cajoled intimate details from her when she and Liam first got back together, I figured I owed her a little dish. “Yep.”

“
When?”

“
The night I found out about Charlie,” I admitted with a grim smile. “And again when he came to San Francisco.”

“
Are you shitting me? And you never said a word? I’m seriously pissed.” Her grin belied her words. “So tell me everything!”

“
I’m not proud of this, Caro. I went down to his apartment in a red rage. My only thought when I knocked on his door was
fuck you, Charlie, I’ll show you screwing around.
It wasn’t my finest moment…” My voice dwindled off as I remembered grabbing Will’s shirt and kissing him senseless and how the heat exploded between us almost as soon as my lips touched his.

“
I hear a
but
coming. I certainly hope you’re about to tell me the whole thing turned into
his
finest moment.”

I sighed, resting my elbow on my knee with my chin in my hand.
“I’d never had sex with anyone but Charlie—and he—he made me, you know… feel great. But, I kinda—kinda—” I grasped for the right words. “—always held back a little. Do you know what I mean?”

“
I’m not sure. I think so.” Her teeth worried her lower lip. “The couple of times I tried it before Liam and I got back together weren’t all that great. But Liam? He turns me inside out.” She blushed herself and gave a little shrug. “He makes me completely mindless.”

“
Mindless,” I repeated. “Yes. Yes, that’s it. That’s what happened with Will. Once he started touching me, I was a goner. In less than two minutes, I’d totally forgotten my mission. All I wanted was Will, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with Charlie. I was there and dear merciful God, it was
amazing
.”

“
Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“
I don’t know. Life’s been so screwed-up, and my anger at Charlie is all mixed up with—with whatever it is I feel for Will. I’ve got to sort it out, Caro, and I don’t have that first clue how to begin.” Staring down at my stocking feet, I wriggled my toes. The mere thought of sex with Will brought heat and damp between my legs, something that had never happened with my husband. Oh, we’d gotten to the heat and damp, but it took some effort on his part. I could barely fathom how simply picturing Will’s surfer boy good looks accomplished the same effect.

It wasn
’t just sex though. Will’s kindness, his sense of humor, his intelligence and patience—all made him damn near irresistible. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the day I visited Charlie’s grave. But I had no idea whether he was even interested anymore. It certainly hadn’t seemed like it when we’d parted two weeks ago at the airport. “I’m not sure he still feels that way.”

“
Why?”

“
He was, I don’t know, different, when we went our separate ways.” I shrugged. “Friendly and kind as always, but a little distant.”

“
Are you in love with him?”

“
I don’t know. What kind of judge am I? I’ve only ever loved one man in my whole life.” I folded my arms under my breasts, shivering in the chill air in the house. “Besides, I’m too old for this starry-eyed, ain’t-love-grand crap.”

“
Bullshit!” Carrie’s eyes flashed with indignation. “You’re never too old to be starry-eyed, and Will’s certainly worthy of a few stars.” She gave me a frown. “And just for the record, love
is
grand.”

“
You should know.” I nudged her with shoulder.

“
You bet your scrawny ass, my friend. You know, I think you’re handling all this stuff really well.” Carrie rose and, offering me a hand, she pulled me up from the stair. “So relax and let the relationship with Will work itself out. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work. Don’t overthink it.”

“
His very words.”

TWENTY-TWO

“
Well, we’re getting closer. We may actually pull this thing off.” Sarah’s eyes shone as she waved me over to the computer in the back room of La Belle Femme and pointed to the spreadsheet she had open on the screen. “We’ve already sold eighty percent of the tickets to the fashion show, which covers all the expenses of putting it on, plus enough extra to stay afloat here another three months. That’s assuming our jackass of a landlord doesn’t raise the rent and the utilities stay in their current neighborhood.”

“
I’m so glad!” Actually, I was beyond glad, I was overjoyed. In the two months I’d been back in Chicago, we’d put all our energy into planning and promoting the fashion show, which was going to be at the end of May at the Stamford, an elegant old hotel on Michigan Avenue. The hotel had contributed the venue, while dozens of Carrie’s and my friends had donated designer clothing from their own closets.

Our twist was that everything we used in the show would go up for auction that night. It was an opportunity for all those society folks to exchange designer labels without actually having to go down to a resale shop. In moments of utter immodesty, I thought it was a brilliant idea and apparently I wasn
’t the only one. Between ticket sales and the auction items, chances were good we’d rake in enough money to keep the shop running for a very long time.

Naomi and Carl Fox, the owners of the modeling agency I
’d been signed with since the age of sixteen, pitched in with enthusiasm when I told them about the project. They jumped on board with a caterer, carpenters to build our catwalk in the banquet room, an auctioneer, marketing ideas, a band, and best of all, models.

My compatriots, models of all sizes, from petite to plus-sized, were ready to take a walk down the runway to support battered women in the Chicago area. I was so proud of them, mostly because I knew a few of those women had suffered some of the same kinds of abuse. Our cause was close to their hearts, so they were giving it their all, creating a very professional-looking show.

“This couldn’t have happened without you, Julie.” Sarah tossed me a smile before she went back to the computer. “You’ve been such a blessing here, I don’t know how we’re going to manage when you go back to Michigan.”

“
I love helping out. It’s been good for me—keeps my mind busy, and I’m having the time of my life putting this show together.”

My words were true. The show was the only thing keeping me from dialing Will daily and begging him to get his butt back to the Windy City.
I hadn’t heard a word from him. I’d considered texting him, but I couldn’t do it. Considering how we’d parted in San Francisco, I’d feel like a fool, but I did put his name on the guest list for the fundraiser. Last I’d heard from Carrie, he’d been in Budapest, inspecting venues and meeting with artistic directors and publicity people, getting Liam’s tour together.

I wanted to
talk to him, see each other face-to-face. The chemistry that suddenly felt off since our trip to Tuckaway was still in full force though, because I was longing for him. That part of me that wanted to charge ahead to see what was possible between us grew more insistent each day. Several times, I’d written him long emails, pouring my heart out, telling him that I still believed in happily-ever-after, in spite of everything. Charlie’s betrayal hadn’t crushed my spirit or my desire for love. I wanted to try again—with him. Then I’d reread them and hit Delete, feeling like a silly teenager with a crush on the high school football star. Was it too soon to love again? If he still wanted me, would my sore heart allow me to love Will freely? I had no idea. All I knew for sure was that I missed him like crazy.

I sorted through another garment bag of donated designer clothes from yet
another of Carrie’s society friends. Donations were coming in faster than we could unpack them after she’d put the word out about our show. I’d managed to pull at least one outfit, sometimes several, from every person’s collection. I wanted to have fifty great looks for the show. But the bag I was into now took my breath away.

“
Sarah!” I exclaimed, holding up a shimmering pink silk chemise gown covered in glass beads. “This is a vintage Lanvin! Look at that intricate beadwork.”

“
Is that a real flapper dress? Is it valuable, do you think?” Sarah had confessed she knew nothing at all about fashion, but she clearly recognized the dollar signs in a vintage couture gown.

“
I imagine it’s
very
valuable. We can check online.” I was busy taking cleaner’s plastic off another dress.
Another vintage gown.
“This one’s a Worth, bias-cut.” I held up the cream silk crepe evening gown. “Looks like it might be from the thirties. Oh, Lord. Is this seriously a Fortuny jacket?”

“
Huh?” Sarah came over to examine the articles as I laid them out on the table. “A who? What?”

“
Mariano Fortuny. He was a Spanish designer in the twenties.” I ran a hand lovingly over the material of the jacket. “He did a lot of experimenting with dye and block prints on fabric. Just look at these colors.”

“
How do you know all this stuff?” Sarah lifted the jacket and slipped her arms into the sleeves. “You said you never went to college.”

“
I didn’t.” Turning her around to face the mirror behind us, I fussed with the jacket, arranging the mandarin collar, pulling her red hair out of the back to let it lay over the grass-green printed fabric. “I’ve always been fascinated by fashion, so almost everything I read is about fashion—history, biographies of designers, magazines. There.” I gave her shoulder a little pat. “That looks fabulous on you, Sarah. You should keep it.”

“
It
is
gorgeous.” She shifted in front of the mirror, trying to get a peek of the draped back. “But if it’s valuable and could bring in some cash, we need to include it in the auction.”

“
There must be at least ten items in this bag.” I pulled other articles of clothing out of the big zippered canvas bag. “These vintage clothes shouldn’t be on hangers, not even padded hangers. They should be stored flat in special boxes and wrapped in acid-free tissue.”

“
Who donated this?” Sarah lifted the bag to search for a tag, but found nothing to indicate who’d brought it in.

I scanned the list of names of contributors. Not a clue as to who
’d left the large canvas garment bag. It wasn’t on the list. “Maybe Holly knows who brought it in. I’ll go ask her.”

Carefully setting a plastic-wrapped fur on the table, I noticed that it bore an Evans label—one of the premier furriers in Chicago in the 1930s. It looked like black mink.
Wow!
Wandering out to the retail area of the shop to find Holly, I ransacked my memory for what I’d read about Evans furs.

Just as I got to the counter, the front door open
ed and a male form stood silhouetted in the opening.

“
Hello.” I backed up. “Can I help you?”

“
I don’t know. Can you?” He ambled out of the sunlight and I recognized him.