Always the Designer, Never the Bride (38 page)

J. R. narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Sherilyn mentioned that Carly had asked you to come back to help her get ready for the baby. I got to thinking maybe you could use a paying gig to help you do that, and I'd really appreciate the expertise."

Oh, come on. Et tu, Jackson?

"I should reach Atlanta at the end of the week. How about I drop by and talk to you about it then."

"Sounds good. Listen, I really do appreciate it, J. R."

"Sure."

J. R. shook his head as he disconnected the call and slid his phone across the table. Suddenly, he had a vision of the whole lot of them, gathered around Sherilyn and Andy's dining table, laughing and concocting their plan.

"Let Carly call first," Russell had probably devised. "Then I'll follow it up."

"But he won't come for no reason," Sherilyn likely pointed out. "We need something solid, like a job offer."

"Oooh, Jackson can take care of that!" Emma no doubt exclaimed. "You'll do that for me, won't you, Jackson?"

And there was Audrey in his mind's eye, sitting in the corner, taking it all in, hoping for their success but not willing to participate. And why would she? If she turned down the new business deal, as he suspected, she would be off to New York again, maybe even before he reached the state of Georgia.

He wished he hadn't phoned Carly and agreed to return, in fact. He had an inkling that she might have been playing him in the first sixty seconds of their conversation, but he couldn't deny the gravitational pull toward the obligation of doing for her what Devon could not. And the idea of his pregnant sister-in-law standing on a ladder and painting a wall . . . Well! That wasn't going to happen, no way and no how. So he acquiesced.

They should have quit while they were ahead. Talk about overkill!

First Russell's call, and now Jackson! The poor guy. They'd obviously roped him into making a job offer, the point at which J. R. felt he had no choice but to draw the line. It shouldn't cost Jackson money out of pocket to help their scheme along.

So maybe he would go ahead and make the trip, after all. He owed Devon that. He could help Carly in whatever way she needed to prepare for the baby, and maybe he could build a shelf or two for Russell. But he slammed on the brakes at the idea of a pity job, from Jackson or anyone else.

Still, the idea of seeing Audrey again . . .

Audrey dragged the last box across the cement floor of Carly's basement and pushed it into a neat line with the others while Kat relocated Mac to the far wall.

"There we go! I can ship these later if we have to."

"Thanks, Kat." Audrey sat down on the edge of one of the boxes. "Remember storage?"

"No," Kat teased. "I haven't been able to afford a basement, or even a free closet for that matter, in my entire adult life."

Audrey laughed. "Me neither."

"Aud," Carly called from the top of the stairs. "Your harp is singing."

"Can you see who it is?"

"Unknown caller."

"That's the third time today," she told Kat. "I'm coming."

"Too late. It went to voice mail," Carly said. "You can check for a voice mail later. Now come on up here, both of you. I have a few paint sample cards."

Audrey and Kat clomped up the stairs and shut the basement door to find dozens of color cards spread across the tabletop.

"A few?" Audrey teased.

"Well, maybe more than a few. Help me choose."

"How can you choose the nursery color before you know what you're having?" Audrey asked, and she grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter and took a bite as she plopped into a chair.

"I was thinking green or yellow," she replied. "Something that would work for a boy or a girl."

"Caroline, you're only eight weeks pregnant. Don't you want to—"

"Don't say it, Audrey." Carly's face curled up like a fist. "I want to focus on our little boy or little girl, so I don't have to think about . . ."

"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry."

"I like this shade of green," Kat interjected, and she pulled one of the cards from the stack and slid it toward Carly. "My friend in New York did her nursery in this color on the bottom part of the wall, with a really pale butter yellow on the top, and they were separated by this adorable border with ducks on it."

"I want sheep," Carly said, drying her eyes. "I like the idea of comparing our baby to a little lamb."

Audrey's chest squeezed as she watched her friend cling to whatever hope she might be able to get her spiritual hands around.

"Why don't we go shopping tomorrow," she suggested. "We can look at borders and wallpaper, and see what strikes you. Once you pick your little lambs for the room, we'll match the paint color to them."

Carly smiled gratefully. "Leave it to you to organize it all. That makes sense."

A light rap at the front door drew their attention, and Kat hopped up to answer it. A moment later, she returned to the kitchen with a strange expression on her face, followed by an even stranger sight.

"Hi, Audrey."

Riley Eastwood?

"Riley. What are . . . How did you . . . ?"

Riley grinned. "My assistant has been trying to track you down for me ever since Lisette's wedding."

"Um, you remember Kat. And this is my friend Carly. It's her house. Carly, this is Riley Eastwood. The designer."

"Oh." Carly's eyes widened. "It's nice to meet you."

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion," she replied. "Audrey, we tracked you down at The Tanglewood, and Cynthia spoke to a young woman there this morning. Sherilyn Drummond?"

"Yes."

"I've been trying to call your cell, and I just thought maybe it would be better if we spoke in person."

"It's no intrusion at all," Carly answered for her. "Why don't you two go out to the patio and have a seat. I'll bring iced tea."

Audrey couldn't help it, and a chuckle rolled out.
The consummate hostess.

"Would you give me a few minutes?" Riley asked.

Audrey's brain couldn't stop running scenarios, and Kat poked her in the back with her index finger.

"Of course," she finally answered. "Let's go outside."

Once they settled at the patio table, Riley raked her dark hair. "It's gorgeous out here, isn't it? It's already so cold in Chicago."

"Oh. That's right. You're from Chicago."

She nodded. "I'm flying back home tomorrow, so I'm very happy Cynthia was able to find you before I have to go."

"What did you . . . want to talk to me about?"

"Lisette's gown."

"Oh." She mulled it over before adding, "What about it?"

"The draping, the construction," she said. "And the way it fit Lisette. You inspired me. And that's not easy to do anymore."

"I'm . . . Thank you."

Carly seemed to tiptoe through the door, and she placed two glasses of tea on the table. "Don't mind me," she said, disappearing again.

"I'll get right to it," Riley said. "Have you ever been to London Fashion Week?"

Audrey chuckled. "No."

"Well, I have a show there next February."

"Really!" she exclaimed. "Congratulations."

"Thank you. I'll be showing my spring and summer line, and I normally finish with a couple of statement pieces."

"I know. I saw your New York runway show two years ago when you had that Latin-inspired wedding gown with the feathers and that train. Oh!" she moaned. "It was spectacular!"

"Thank you. Well, this year, I'm thinking of something a little different. And I wondered if you might be interested."

Interested!

"Interested?"

Riley slid forward to the edge of her chair. "What if my statement piece at the finale of my show in London is to introduce . . .
my new plus-size label."

Audrey's heartbeat fluttered. "Your new . . ."

Riley used both hands to create an imaginary marquee over them. "Audrey Regan. For Riley Eastwood."

"Are you joking?"
Because it's not very funny, if you are.

"No. Of course not." Riley snickered and shook her head. "Audrey, I told you. You inspired me. You did for Lisette what I wasn't able to do, and it got me to thinking. What if we blended our skills? You, the up and coming new designer— and me, the established one. You infuse new blood into my line while I expand into a niche market. What do you think?"

Audrey wondered if she could.
Think.

"I have to warn you, Audrey, I'm not much of a gambler. I want to start out with two or three pieces. Say, three gowns. One of them understated, another more elaborate one. And then a third over-the-top, set-their-eyeballs-on-fire stunner to close the show. What do you think?"

There was that word again.
Think.

"Audrey, say yes!" Carly cried from the other side of the tiny opening in the door, and Riley burst out laughing.

"Privacy?" Audrey called, and the door clicked shut behind her. "Sorry, Riley."

"It's fine."

"Look, Carly's husband is a Marine, and he's just shipped out to the Middle East. To make matters worse—or better, I guess!—she's just discovered that she's pregnant."

"What wonderful news."

"I can't pick up and move to Chicago right now. I'm still planted with one foot in New York, and—"

"Audrey. Wait. Listen. You can work wherever you want to. If things take off like I hope, we may have to revisit that next year. But for the moment, I'm not asking you to change your whole life on the crazy chance that the fashion world is ready for what we have to offer them."

Audrey felt torn. She loved the work she did in creating Lisette's gown. But branding herself as a couture designer specifically for plus-sized women? That had been part of her concern with Lisette's Wedding Central idea. What if it didn't work? Would she be painted into a corner that allowed no escape?

Audrey rubbed her temple and smiled. "Can I think about this, Riley?"

"Of course."

"I mean, the opportunity to work with you in any way is just a dream come true. But I really need to give this some thought."

Riley produced a business card from the front pocket of her bag, and she handed it to Audrey. "I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon. If you have any questions, or if you want to discuss it some more while I'm here, give me a call. Maybe we can have dinner."

"Thank you," she muttered, looking down at the glossy blue card with Riley's recognizable logo embossed in the upper corner.

"If I don't hear from you, I'll call you next week for your answer."

Riley had already gone inside the house before Audrey realized it and hopped to her feet to follow.

"Thank you so much, really," she said at the door.

"Whatever you decide, Audrey, I think you're incredibly talented. You're headed for great things. I hope you'll let me be part of it."

"Talk to you soon."

The moment the front door closed, Carly threw herself at Audrey. Kat joined them, and Kat and Carly jumped up and down with their arms around Audrey, bouncing her until she felt like one of those rubber balls attached to a paddle with an elastic band.

"Stop it, stop it," she cried.

Carly grabbed her by the shoulders. "What is wrong with you? This is fantastic, Aud!"

"Just give me a minute to process."

"There's nothing to process. Tell her, Kat! Tell her."

Kat looked Audrey in the eyes so hard that it burned, and she nodded. "Audrey. This is the one. Weston LaMont was a no-go. Lisette wasn't for you. But this is Riley Eastwood. It's a no-brainer."

Think. Trying, but. Frozen.

"Audrey," Carly said, shaking her. "Are you kidding!"

No brainer. Riley for-goodness-sake Eastwood.

Kat caught her again. "Right?"

Audrey built to a slow nod.

"Yes!" Carly exclaimed.

"Yes," Audrey repeated.

As realization pressed down on her like a heavy ray of scorching sun, a low rumbling groan emanated from deep within her.

"Yes!" Kat and Carly both shouted, and Audrey pointed at the door with a question stuck in her throat. "Yes!" they both repeated.

"Go!" Carly added.

Reminded of a cartoon character with wheels spinning but getting nowhere, Audrey pushed herself into action and ran out the front door in time to see Riley's car backing out to the street.

"Wait!" she shrieked, tearing across the lawn toward the car. "Riley, wait!"

And in the fashion of the aforementioned cartoon character, her feet took on a life of their own, and she crashed directly into the car and flew across the hood.