Authors: Bryan Murray
DESIGN FOR LOVE (11 page)
“What about us?” Yvette sounded slightly evasive.
“You know what I mean, Mom. Have you forgiven him yet?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Yvette replied, choosing her words very carefully. “Let me put it this way, he’s on probation.”
“And does he realize this?”
Yvette gave a half chuckle. “Well, my darling, I never had so much attention lavished on me for years!”
Francine interjected. “That’s because he loves you so much, Mom,” and then she added quickly. “Now, I hope you’re not stringing him out as a punishment before you give in?”
Yvette tried to sound indignant but failed miserably. “Who me?”
Francine shook her head in disdain. “Just like a couple of kids, the pair of you. So, when did you last see him?”
“Last night.”
“And?”
“And we had dinner, that’s all.”
Francine grinned in relief. “Well, that’s a start, now don’t you make him wait too long, okay?”
“I’ll think about it. Well, I’ve got to go, darling, I’m being picked up for lunch in 5 minutes.”
“You are? By who?”
“Oh, just your father!” Yvette chuckled wickedly again.
“Mother!” was all Francine could come up with, but inwardly she was rejoicing at the apparent reconciliation that seemed to be under way with her parents.
By eight thirty next morning, Francine was already at the workshop and things were hectic to say the least. When she walked through the door, the phone was ringing off the wall with follow-up orders from New York, Thelma was scribbling down messages and Vince was heading swiftly towards one of his favorite tantrums. This time it was in conversation with the Dallas Morning News Fashion Editor.
“Yes, I know, Henrietta. Yes, yes, we value your coverage, but Francine only just walked through the door and the phone’s been ringing off the wall with orders,” he winked conspiratorially at Francine. “Yes, yes, that would be fine,” he continued. “3 o’clock on Friday afternoon, yes, bring a photographer with you, that will be okay. Yes, bye, my dear.”
He put the phone down and grinned at Francine. “That was Henrietta. She must have picked up the write-up from the New York Times and after months of being a bitch, all of a sudden, we’re flavor of the month!”
“And so?” Francine was still curious as to what he had just committed her to.
“They want to do a complete photo shoot and cover story, you know, local fashion house takes the Big Apple by storm, etc. etc.”
“And you said Friday afternoon? We’re snowed under, Vince. If we’re going to be ready for Monte Carlo, we haven’t a minute to spare. I can’t give them long.”
He grinned. “I know you can’t, Princess, but at least give them something, 15 - 20 minutes maximum. It won’t kill you and think of the coverage. Next time we go to the Apparel Centre, those turkeys will sit up and listen!”
She smiled. “As usual, you’re right. So, where are we?”
Vince couldn’t wait to tell her. “Well, the phone hasn’t stopped ringing since 7.30. Eight orders to date for multiples of different pieces. The pink suit is the big hitter so far.”
Francine’s mind still somehow switched back to her biggest disappointment in the last exciting 36 hours. “But nothing from Cinclare, I suppose?”
He patted her arm consolingly. “Let it go, Princess, Who needs them?”
“I guess you’re right,” she sighed. “So now, where’s the material for the red dress for the finale?”
Vince’s face clouded over. “I don’t want to talk about it!”
“In that case, I think you’d better. Spill it?”
“Verna’s been on and Sorrenstein Brothers have let us down!”
Francine went cold inside. Only Sorrenstein could get her the dazzling, vibrant red that she needed for her creation. Her whole mindset hinged around the impact of the mesmerizingly vibrant color.
“What do you mean, let us down?”
“I don’t know, something went wrong with the dye run she said.”
“And the bottom line?”
“It may be at least another week before we get the material!”
“My, God!” she moaned. “We’ve got to leave for Monte Carlo in eight days!” she was totally devastated. “And what’s Verna doing about it?”
“Well, firstly she’s embarrassed she made a promise she can’t keep, secondly, she’s threatened the entire staff, including Isaac Sorrenstein himself with instant death if they don’t pull out all the stops.”
This still didn’t sound promising to Francine. “And thirdly?”
“The second she gets her hands on the material, she’s promised to personally fly it down, with the bolt of cloth strapped in the next seat on the plane!”
Francine’s mind was working overtime. “What do you think, Vince?”
He rubbed the top of his head as if seeking inspiration. “We’re in deep you know what, Princess. I’ve gone over the whole design and cutting plan with Thelma. Even if we worked non-stop it would be a 24 hour job to get the dress completed from scratch and that would also need Karen available instantly for fitting as we go!”
“Yes, that’s true. And I’ve no idea what her modeling commitments are before we head for Europe.”
He thought for a moment. “I suppose we could just book her at the daily rate for at least the forty eight hour window from when we expect the material to arrive. Might be pricey!”
Francine nodded her head slowly. “That’s true, but what choice do we have? I certainly can’t risk a repeat of Dallas with last minute alterations - not with a show like Monte Carlo!”
Vince nodded. “I agree. So, what do I do?”
“Call her. Book her if you can and let’s pray that Verna delivers this time.”
Vince hesitated a moment. “I suppose we could try and find another source?”
Francine looked him steadily in the eye, the true professional shining through. “It’s no use, Vince. When I saw the Sorrenstein sample, that was it, nothing else would do. If it doesn’t make it in time, the dress won’t be in the Show, I’ll take my chances with the rest!”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. Just wanted to check,” he grinned. “That’s why I work for you - no compromises, Princess!”
She hugged him affectionately. “You’ve got that right, Rainbow Man!” they both laughed as phones started ringing again and they pitched into the matters of the day.
On a surprisingly cold day in Dallas, Francine dropped Alison off at her private school before stopping by Yvette’s elegant townhouse, ready to take her to the specialist for her final session.
She walked up to the door and rang the bell expecting to see Yvette ready to leave, all dressed up to face the World, a state of mind that Yvette held firmly in focus each time she stepped out of the house.
As the door opened, Francine tried to sound upbeat. “Okay, gorgeous, are you ready to…” she stopped in her tracks when confronted by a sleepy-eyed Carl, wearing only a pajama bottom. He blinked at the light, stifled a yawn and smiled sheepishly at Francine.
“Hi, darling.” was all he could manage.
Francine suppressed a smile as in the background she caught a glimpse of Yvette struggling into a robe, heading for the bathroom.
“Oh, my God! We’re late!” Yvette moaned as Francine walked in and closed the door.
“Okay, you guys,” she grinned and turned to her father, adding with a conspiratorial wink. “Why don’t you get ready, the both of you. I’ll make us a pot of coffee.”
Carl smiled. “Good idea.” and as he reached the door, Francine whispered. “Hey, Daddy, way to go!” and held up her thumbs.
He smiled. “Thanks, Baby.” and disappeared into the bedroom.
Francine was inwardly delighted. It didn’t take a very high IQ to figure out that her parents had spent the night together and the fact that they were back on such an intimate level was the best news she could have had.
After Carl had hurriedly shaved, dressed and headed for the office, coffee in hand, Francine gave Yvette an inquisitive look. Her mother looked back innocently.
“Now, don’t say another word.” Yvette began.
Francine smiled. “The only words I’m going to say are hurry up, sleepy head, we’re late!”
After waiting in the outer office of the specialist whose surgery was adjacent to the hospital, Francine was relieved to see her Mother come out of her consultation with a prescription in her hand, medication the apparent next step instead of Chemotherapy.
“So, he thinks the medication will work?” she asked.
“Apparently so,” Yvette looked relieved if not a little stressed. “I have to try it for thirty days to see what happens.”
“And then what?”
“It’s back here for further tests.”
“Well, at least it’s a start. Come on, darling, I’ll take you home.”
Yvette gave a sad sigh. “Can’t wait to get there!”
As they left the doctor’s office, an ambulance came to a stop near the entrance to the Emergency Room. Attendants ran out and gently started to move the occupant from inside. For some reason, Francine glanced more closely at the patient on the gurney as the final shock of who it was hit her. It looked like Helen Cinclare!
Almost as she put her hand to her heart in shock, a black Lexus roared to a stop behind the ambulance as Gerard, looking pale and worried, climbed out.
Francine left her mother momentarily and rushed over, concern in her eyes, just as Gerard spotted her.
“Oh, hello, Francine.” he greeted her nervously.
“Hello, Gerard. Was that your mother they just took inside?” she asked.
“Yes, unfortunately - another stroke, I’m afraid!”
Francine was genuinely saddened. “I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?”
He looked at her, those green eyes lacking their normal lustre. “As a matter of fact, there is.”
“Just name it?”
He reached in his pocket and gave her his business card.
“Would you mind calling my office and asking them to let Jeri know where I am?”
‘There it goes again!
’
Francine thought momentarily, Jeri always seemed somewhere ahead of her. “Yes, of course,” she answered. “And Gerard, please give your mother my regards and tell her I hope she’s soon feeling better.”
He managed a tense smile. “I will, and thanks, Francine.” He hurried into the hospital in the direction of the disappearing stretcher.
When Francine got back to the waiting Yvette, the latter looked confused. “What was all that about, darling?”
“That was Gerard Cinclare’s mother they just took in.”
“You mean ‘House of Cinclare’ Cinclare?”
“Yes, they just brought her in after her second stroke.”
“Oh, my dear!” Yvette looked saddened, but added with a slight twinkle in her eye. “A most
handsome
man, I must say!”
Francine tried to downplay the last remark. “I suppose so.” she mumbled.
Yvette’s quick eye had noticed her daughter’s evasiveness. “There’s no supposing, darling. The man’s a hunk!”
“Mother!”
“Yes, and the hunk has the hots for my daughter!”
Francine’s mouth sagged open. “Mother! Are you nuts? The man’s practically engaged, and besides…”
Yvette’s keen perception was on a roll. “And besides nothing, Francie. Why are you blushing?”
Francine found herself suddenly touching her cheek before she dropped her hand quickly to her side, but not before Yvette had keyed in on the body language.
“Oh, my God! And my baby has the hots for him, too!”
“Mother!” Francine snapped. “Now that’s enough of this nonsense.” she turned the key in the ignition as the car roared away from the hospital.
With less than four days to go to the trip to Monte Carlo, Francine and Vince were still working long hours and living on their nerves as they waited with baited breath for the special material to arrive for the red dress.
Verna in New York had been literally camping on the doorstep of Sorrenstein’s and the latest news was that the most recent dye run had worked out fine and the material was expected in their warehouse the next day.
Even so, Vince was still uptight as he spoke on the phone with Verna. “Now listen, sweetie, I don’t care what you have to do, just get your hands on it and either fly down with it or I’ll fly up to get it, it’s that important!”
“I know, I know,” she sighed. “Believe me, old Isaac is having nightmares about me at the moment, so I feel sure he’ll do anything just to get me off his back.”
“Okay, we’ll be talking soon, then?”
Vince replaced the phone and Francine gave a tired smile. “She’s okay, really she is, Vince. Now, what about Karen. Did you manage to get her for a couple of days, it will have to be this Thursday and Friday.”
“I’m hoping so. Spoke to her agent, woman’s a real witch, but she promised we could have her.”
“Good, and Thelma’s all set with the cutting and sewing schedule?”
“Yes, relax, Princess. We’re going to make it!”
“I hope so,” she replied, looking at her watch. “Can you hold the fort for a while, Vince, I need to stop by the hospital for a brief visit?”
Vince looked suddenly surprised and concerned. “It’s not your Mom again, is it?”
“No, not
my
Mom.”
Sudden recognition crossed his face. “You mean?”
“Yes, if you must know, it’s Gerard’s Mom - another stroke yesterday!”
“Does she know you’re going?”
“No, but she’s a classy lady and I like her.”
He smiled knowingly. “As much as you like Mr. Wonderful?”
She colored up immediately. “Now cut that out, Vince!”
“I know, I know,” he chuckled. “He already has a girl, etc. etc.”
“Right, and don’t you forget it!”
It was almost as if Vince was indeed her inner conscience the way he had the knack of touching the very part of her psyche that was uppermost in her mind. In this case, she had also asked herself if her interest in visiting the frail Helen was just to get another chance to meet Gerard, but she quickly dismissed the thought.
A frail, sick lady like Helen, with the spark of life and affection, deserved to have visitors when she was under the weather and, what the heck, in spite of her mercurial son, Francine had to admit she really liked the older lady.
She parked the car outside the hospital as a gray day turned even grayer when a light rain started to fall. It was thus, with a hard to explain heavy heart that Francine finally found the private room where Helen was located. She confirmed with a friendly nurse that Helen had no visitors, that she was fit to receive them and that it would be in order to spend a little time with the patient.