Bootscootin' Blahniks (29 page)

S
itting at her design table at Raeve an hour and a half later, Roxy heard Kat’s voice. But due to the word war she was silently plotting against her mother, she couldn’t focus on the conversation. There would be a sidewalk sale at Louis Vuitton before Roxy would buy into her mother’s lame excuses for failing as a parent. Roxy wasn’t about to give that witch one carat of satisfaction.

“Roxy, dear?”

Coming up for air, Roxy discovered Kat had stopped talking. Instead, she was gently shaking Roxy’s arm, trying to get her attention.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said have you?” Kat laid her pencil and highlighter on top of the reports they’d been analyzing. “What is it, sugar? What’s got you in such a snit?”

“I’m sorry, Kat. It’s rude of me not be listening.” Roxy took off her glasses, slid them on top of her head and rubbed her eyes. “You’ve worked so hard getting this data into the computer and onto spreadsheets. Let’s go over it again. I promise to give it my all.”

“The numbers can wait. Let’s fix you first.” Kat folded the reports. She jumbo clipped the loose pages into a neat pile then set the stack on the corner of the drawing table, out of Roxy’s reach.

Roxy hesitated before unloading. Kat was supposed to be taking it easy, living stress free. Letting her in on Lily Vaughn’s stunts would not be following doctor’s orders. Hell. The rate Roxy was going, she’d also need an appointment with Kat’s cardiologist.

If she didn’t vent, however, Roxy would be worthless. She couldn’t talk to Jules and Audrey. They had to live with the over-therapied diva too. Robbing them of additional time and energy wasn’t fair. Now that her mother had all but moved-in, Roxy doubted they’d stay the whole summer anyway. And she couldn’t blame them. Although where that left Raeve and the Neon Cowboy sent small-scale earthquakes erupting inside the pit of Roxy’s stomach.

“My mother showed up this morning. Her and her entourage of luggage.”
There
. Just by sharing the news with Kat, she felt a slight bit relieved, staying one precarious step in front of the lava flow gurgling inside. “I know you’ve never met her…lucky woman you are…but believe me she’s what you all down here call a real pistol.”

“So we’re talking ultra diva?” Kat’s eyes twinkled, obviously misguided that this was amusing news. “One of those magazine-glossed, never gets her manicured hands dirty, big city type social monarchs?”

Roxy couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. No one she’d told about her mother’s presence had ever been intrigued by the opportunity to meet her. They knew about her kind and found something else to do, even if it involved a toilet and a brush. Kat looked not only intrigued but delightfully pleased regarding Lily Vaughn’s Dixie Land entrance.

Judging by the smile on Kat’s face, Roxy hadn’t extinguished Kat’s beguiling curiosity. “I’m not kidding, Kat. She’s a handful.”

“Oh I hope so. I haven’t had a good challenge in years.” Kat rubbed her hands together.

Did Kat think human tactics existed for handling Lily? Well, she wouldn’t for long, Roxy thought. Maybe there’s truth to one never being too old to learn.

“What was her reason for coming, dear?” Kat asked, placing one temple of her glasses between her front teeth.

“Do you really want to know all this? I shouldn’t burden you with my problems. I’m supposed to be paying back both you and your son for the trouble I’ve already caused. Not cause more angst.”

Roxy rubbed her hands on her thighs, trying to stifle a chill of trepidation, then wiped her eyes. But she couldn’t stop the encroaching tears of frustration and exhaustion.
Why did Kat and Zayne always see her at her most moronic, confidence-busting moments
?

“Nonsense, dear. You’re not burdening me. I adopted you into my family weeks ago. We’re in this together now.” Kat put her arm around Roxy and pulled her close to her chest.

Soothed by the soft but steady beats of Kat’s heart, Roxy didn’t know what she’d do if it again decided to stop pumping.

“Mom’s here because she’s supposedly left my dad and plans to start over in Nashville…with me.” A flood of bottlenecked emotion washed out of Roxy as she forced the truth between her lips. “I just can’t deal with her right now. I have enough at stake without worrying about
her
problems.”

“You certainly do have a lot to fill your time. But it’s nothing you can’t handle.” Kat squeezed confidence into Roxy’s shoulders before she let go of her. “What can I do to help?”

“You just being here, listening to me whine and boohoo, means the world to me.” Roxy picked up Kat’s pencil and drummed it against the table. “No one’s ever been here for me like you have. And to think I had a fit when Zayne pushed me to accept your help. You helping me see through Raeve’s sea of red, well, that’s way more than enough. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Raeve isn’t in the red anymore, my dear. I knew you hadn’t heard a word I’d said about the reports.” Kat grabbed the stack of spreadsheets from the edge of the table and removed the binder clip, laying-out the papers in various piles. “And I’m glad that Zayne pushed you. You helped me too, you know. Because of your zest for your passions, I found mine again. After Zayne’s daddy died, I was afraid I’d lost them.”

“Kat?”

“Mmmm?” Kat answered, already rearranging the reports to repeat her presentation.

Roxy took her glasses off the top of her head. She put them into place over her eyes. With a punch of verve she’d never had when it came to working numbers, she was ready to tackle the business end of Raeve.

“As far as helping me with my mom…” Roxy felt like a helpless wonder asking, but didn’t know who else had the psychological stamina to help her decide the best approach.

“When would you like me to meet her? My schedule’s not too full these days,” Kat said and chuckled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t put you through that. I thought maybe you could just give me some advice on what to do with her.” Thinking about her mother again brought a swarm of wasps batting their wings against the insides of Roxy’s stomach.

“Well, my dear, if I’m going to slay this dragon diva then I need to see what makes her breathe fire. I prefer to see first hand what I’m up against.” Kat took a pen out from behind her ear and removed the cap. “We’ll have coffee before you go to the saloon this afternoon, and you can give me your crib notes.”

Kat then re-circled the same numbers she must have circled earlier when giving her analysis of Raeve’s finances.

“And by the way, dear, you and Zayne will be taking the night off tonight. Both of you. Cody and Jules can handle the saloon, and Zayne’s daddy’s tomatoes can just do whatever they do on their vines — alone. I happen to have two extra tickets for the General Jackson dinner boat. And you’re going…together.”

“I’m not sure Zayne will want to take time away from the farm,” Roxy said. Although the idea of taking a night off with Zayne made butterflies of anticipation flitter in her belly, replacing the raging wasps.

And if Roxy were lucky, maybe she could talk Zayne into letting her stay at his place. The thought of going home to her mother sent her into a free-falling tizzy.

“Oh he’ll take the time. I think he had something to tell you anyway. I’ll have him pick you up at the saloon around five thirty-ish. Boarding begins around six fifteen.”

“That sounds great.” Roxy wrapped her arms around Kat’s petite frame, holding her tighter than she’d planned to as emotions overtook her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Kat put on her reading glasses, carefully arranging their beaded chain to artfully edge the open collar of her button-down shirt. “Let’s take a stab at these numbers again.”

This was what it was supposed to be like between a mother and a daughter, Roxy thought, as the butterflies inside her were finally at peace.

And wasn’t it funny how the same style of glasses could make one woman look like the maternal maverick she was and another look like Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada?
That’s all
.

By late that afternoon, following coffee with Kat, Roxy had a complete laundry list of her mother’s idiosyncrasies and felt much better. At least she had a rough plan devised of what to do with her birth vessel that didn’t include tossing her off the top of downtown Nashville’s Batman building.

Roxy was also excited to have proven on paper that Raeve could succeed. Her job would be to keep fresh, hip designs coming. Kat and Audrey would continue handling the numbers and promotions, and with their business savvy, the numbers were starting to mean something. At least to Roxy, they were much more than disparaging digits identifying how far she had to go to achieve success beyond her parents’ shadows. For the first time, Raeve showed promise and possibilities unlimited.

Roxy’s profit margin was at ten percent, thanks to the pre-paid orders Kat had taken for the new belt buckles. With the supplier changes Kat wanted to implement sure to boost the boutique’s net gain, Roxy could begin to save money for a building of her own in the Village.

A profit was exhilarating on its own. Knowing she had enough extra income to tuck some away for Raeve’s future was beyond Roxy’s wildest dreams. Working for the last six months, at the hell-feverish pace of a debuting designer during the final days before Fashion Week, didn’t seem so crazy now. Or perhaps still crazy, Roxy admitted, but crazy with a legitimate purpose and brilliant result in sight and well within her reach.

Raeve was selling stronger every day. Roxy had originated her own brand of boutique-ing. ‘In for chicken feed and out with a damn fine belt for the Mrs.’ Wondering if she shouldn’t run that ad slogan past Audrey, Roxy giggled to herself.

As she’d pledged to Audrey and Jules all those years ago after she’d graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology, Roxy had made the move to Nashville. Who’d have thunk it possible? Not only had she done it, but she couldn’t imagine turning back.

She’d used the years between then and now productively, carefully thinking through the ramifications of her hair-brained plan until she summonsed the guts to box up the Fifth Avenue storefront her father rented for her and head south. It was no accident she’d found her way here. She was convinced her muse had tipped her hat this direction. Roxy had never felt a creative buzz like the one filling the air in Music City.

And speaking of accidents, thank God she’d hit Zayne’s truck. Where would she be right now if it weren’t for his cowboy charm and his ability to broker a good deal? A deal leveraged on her building a relationship with the kind of woman she’d never imagined wanting as a mother. Now she couldn’t imagine re-opening the void Kat had filled.

Roxy wouldn’t be standing in front of the mirror in the office next to Zayne’s in the back of the Neon Cowboy. She wouldn’t be waiting to be his date for the evening. She wouldn’t be worrying that she hadn’t dressed right for her first paddlewheel riverboat cruise.

Thinking she’d had yet to wear anything relatively normal in front of him, she’d gone with one of her skirts. Although once she’d added her touches to it, she had to admit, she couldn’t recall running across anything quite like it.

To the naked eye, the piece looked like a prairie skirt. Upon closer examination, more than the fabric’s fuchsia hue knocked-off its blasé pattern of normalcy. She’d made a sheer, beaded overskirt that drew up into a reverse ‘v’ at her waist then using the same tones as the skirt beneath it, she’d added a devilish fringe that dusted the floor as she walked.

She’d chosen a white, western-inspired, button down shirt, left open to just below her breasts to accentuate a fuchsia push-up bra. With a Buckles Me Baby silver and hotter than hot pink conk belt and an off-white cowboy hat, complete with a leather cord dangling to her cleavage, Zayne would have plenty of stimulation to keep his focus on her paddlewheels instead of the boat.

She twirled around in front of the mirror, letting the motion of the fabrics and her emotions carry her. She hadn’t had a night off for weeks, let alone a real date.

The idea of spending the occasion with Zayne made Roxy giddy with anticipation. The burdensome weight of her anxieties had been willingly removed from her shoulders for the rest of the night. Despite the heavy, brown suede boots she’d borrowed from Kat, her feet even felt lighter.

With only a few minutes left before Zayne should be there, Roxy changed her mind on her head peace. Removing the hat, her hands trembling, she anchored a barrette into her hair. She hoped Zayne liked the change. But just in case she didn’t get the response she hoped for, she’d take the hat with her.

The office lighting danced off the tiny gemstones of the antique brooch Roxy had reworked into a hair clip. It was the perfect use for the piece she’d discovered in a stall in a Tuscan piazza. Luckily, she’d gone with her intuition instead of listening to her father. He thought it was silly to buy jeweled-accessories from anyone beneath the caliber of Harry Winston, Tiffany’s, or Van Cleef and Arpel. He’d insisted she have the thing appraised to determine if it was worth insuring, but Roxy had refused, thinking it probably wasn’t even worth the money she was paying for it. And if it was, so be it, she’d rather live on the edge.

While she fussed in front of the mirror, her body fluttered in tiny little spasms. She wanted to look just right for Zayne, hoping to earn one of the funny grins he got when he saw her for the first time on any given day. As he gave her his initial once over he always looked sort of bewildered.

But not bewildered in a negative connotation. It was almost as if she amused him with her wardrobe choices. And Roxy thrived on that feeling, finding it gave her an extra boost of confidence. After he’d seen her in something new, flecks of enjoyment sparkled in his eyes. She fed on the subtle, sexy reinforcement he gave her without even knowing it.

Lost in her romantic ruminations, Roxy bowed her head and offered a silent prayer to whichever Cupidesque, arrow-packing angel was on duty tonight. Just one night of magic with Zayne, that’s all she was asking for. She’d then try to work him out of her system before it was too late.