Authors: Bryan Murray
DESIGN FOR LOVE (12 page)
Having stopped by the hospital florist on the way in, she knocked gently on the door and entered the darkened room with a screen around the bed. As she approached the bed, she could see that Helen was sleeping and breathing relatively calmly. Undecided about wakening the older lady, Francine busied herself washing out an empty vase, filling it with water and putting the fresh flowers in it.
Perhaps it was the sound of the water running that had awakened Helen as Francine almost jumped in shock when a frail voice behind her said. “How lovely they look. So nice to see you, my dear.”
Francine spun round and approached the bed, a warm smile on her face. “Hello, Mrs. Cinclare, its Francine.”
Helen smiled. “I’d recognize you anywhere, my dear. You look lovely!”
“Well, thank you,” Francine instinctively reached out to hold the frail hand offered to her. “And how are you feeling?”
Helen gave a brave attempt at a tired smile. “They tell me I’m doing okay, Francine, but I know better.”
“I don’t understand?” Francine replied falteringly, not sure where this conversation was heading.
“The light at the end of the tunnel is getting dimmer, and that’s for sure!” Helen continued.
Francine squeezed the frail hand in hers encouragingly. “I’m sure you’re going to be just fine, Mrs. Cinclare.”
What Francine hadn’t realized was that the door to the darkened room behind her had opened briefly and a solitary figure was standing there silently in the shadows, listening to their conversation in total silence. Helen continued, her voice frail, equally oblivious to the new occupant of the room.
“It was so kind of you to visit me, Francine. Ged’s so lucky to have you!” she murmured, struggling to catch her breath.
Francine was almost at a loss for words. “But, but he doesn’t
have me
, so to speak, Mrs. Cinclare. We’re just business acquaintances.”
Helen’s eyes still held enough sparkle to quietly dismiss Francine’s protestations of non-involvement. “If you say so, my dear. But I know my son and he cares for you deeply. I just know it!”
Francine tried to make light of the older lady’s comments. “Well, if he does, he has a strange way of showing it. But I guess we are at least friends and he’s been very helpful to me this last few days.”
Once again, Helen managed a feeble smile before being beset by a brief coughing fit. Francine offered her a drink of water and fluffed her pillow. “There we are, now why don’t you rest a while. I’d better be going. I just came by to see how you were doing and to brighten your day with a few flowers.”
Helen nodded in agreement. “Well, thank you again, Francine, and remember what I told you. He’s a hard man to get close to, but once you do, you’ll never want to let him go.”
“I’ll remember that. Now please get some sleep. I’ll stop by in a day or so. Goodbye and take care of yourself, Mrs. Cinclare.”
She bent and gave the pale, feverish cheek a gentle kiss before leaving. As she made to move away, Helen grabbed her hand briefly, a sudden look of urgency in her eyes. “He needs someone sweet like you, my dear. Please take good care of him?”
Francine smiled. “We’ll see. Now, please get some rest.”
Helen nodded and closed her eyes as Francine turned and left the room as quietly as she had arrived. She didn’t even notice the person behind the screen in the corner, waiting for her to leave.
As the door closed behind her, Gerard emerged and silently walked over to the side of the bed where Helen was already sleeping. He looked down at her and for the first time there was a moist look in his eyes as first he looked at his sleeping mother and then at the door through which Francine had just left. Almost instinctively, he reached out to touch the fresh flowers, a certain sadness in his glance.
Francine walked back to her car, overcome with a strange feeling of sadness, almost as though she had perhaps seen Helen for the last time. Health was such a fickle luxury, she reflected, thanking her lucky stars that it appeared, at least for the moment, as if her own mother Yvette may have some short respite from the cancer that seemed to be stalking her very existence.
She then reflected on the older woman’s words. Did Gerard have even the remotest feelings for her? And what about Jeri? Francine was already becoming more certain by the minute that she herself was perhaps capable of some deep-seated feelings for him, if only things were different. She shrugged resignedly before driving away, thoughts of more pressing matters now rushing back to get her attention.
It had been a long, sleepless quest, but finally they had done it. Verna, good to her word, had even flown into Dallas with the material tucked safely under her arm. Francine, Thelma and Vince had worked almost through the night and the next day. Karen had arrived for her first, second and final fitting. Now, as the lovely model stood on the fitting stand in the completed red dress, even Vince had to stand back and stare.
“Wow” was all that he could manage to begin with. “Now,
that’ll
get their attention, Princess!
Big time!
”
Francine had to admit, it was worth holding out for. Karen looked fantastic. With the sweep of silk over one elegant shoulder across her curvaceous bust line, all accentuated by her golden tan and with the waist and thighs tightly contoured, the split up the side of an equally sun-tanned shapely leg, gave the dress all the combinations of class, femininity and audacious lines, all without being too sexy. In short, it was a real show stopper, exactly what Chris Matlin had told her she needed.
Even the normally quiet Thelma was hugging Vince affectionately as they both surveyed their handiwork.
“Well done, you guys,” Francine enthused. “You too Karen, darling. You look like a million dollars!”
Karen smiled, now convinced that this brave young woman from Texas had what it took. “Well done, Francine,” she smoothed her hands sexily down her hips. “This is a knockout!”
Francine smiled and gave her a hug. ‘He’d better like this one!
’
she told herself as she started to carefully unpin the creation from around Karen’s perfect curves.
Later, with phones ringing all around her and with a checklist that seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter, Francine looked up in surprise to hear an unfamiliar voice. “Hi, Francine, did we catch you at a bad time?”
Francine looked up to see Henrietta Stroud of the Dallas Morning News, arriving ready for their scheduled interview. She was a thin-featured, dark-haired wisp of a woman with piercing black eyes. Alongside her, with long, blonde, unwashed hair was her photographer.
“Oh, hi, Henrietta. My God, is it that time already?”
“Afraid so. Can you spare us a few minutes?”
“Sure. Can you just give me a second to set some things in motion and I’ll be right with you. Why don’t we set up in the office in the corner, it’s quieter there. These phones have been ringing off the wall since we got back from New York.”
Henrietta looked suitable impressed. “No problem. Come on, Toby, bring your gear.” they made their way to the corner office as Francine headed over to a smiling Vince.
“Now, what the heck am I supposed to do with these people?” she whispered.
He patted her arm consolingly. “Just answer the questions, Princess, but feel free to lay on the BS a bit.”
She seemed tense. “Man, this was all I needed with all the work we’ve got to do!”
“Now, remember what I said, no publicity is bad publicity and when these turkeys wouldn’t give us the time of day, you’d have spent hours with them. Now’s your chance, sell the heck out of New York and Francine Dubois then kick them out!”
She smiled. “Okay. Have you started the final sewing on the red dress?”
“Just minutes ago. Now, off you go, shine for the nice newspaper lady. Go on, go, go!”
“All right.” she took a deep breath, checked herself quickly in the mirror, since there were going to be photographs and headed for the corner office.
And so, an hour later, Francine shook hands with Henrietta as the latter headed off with the story and photo shots to prepare for the next issue of the Fashion Page.
“Goodbye, Henrietta, thanks for stopping by. You too, Toby.”
“Thank you, Francine,” Henrietta gushed. “We should be in print by tomorrow and don’t forget I want the scoop when you get back from Monte Carlo?”
Francine smiled. “Sure, just as long as you don’t destroy me tomorrow!”
Henrietta smiled. “Are you kidding? When was the last time we had a Dallas designer rubbing shoulders with the big dogs. Don’t worry, love, it’ll be okay.”
Francine heaved an inner sigh of relief. “In that case, I’ll see you when I get back, bye.”
Henrietta waved as she walked through the door. “Knock ‘em dead on the Riviera, kid!”
“I’ll try.” Francine somehow felt so much more confident now that she had the red dress complete.
Just as she picked up her ever-present clipboard, the phone beside her rang yet again. She picked it up. “Classique Fashions?”
Once again that familiar voice came on the line, a voice that got her immediate attention.
“Hi, Francine, this is Gerard.”
“Yes, I know,” she replied. “Believe it or not, I’m getting used to the voice.”
He laughed. “Thought I wouldn’t get through, your phone has been so busy.”
She couldn’t resist her quick response. “Yes, that’s what happens when the orders start rolling in. So, what can I do for you, Gerard?”
“Nothing really. I just wanted to let you know that I’m flying out tomorrow on American into London and then on to Monte Carlo.”
“Nice of you to let me know,” she teased. “Is that so I can make sure I’m on a different flight?”
He paused a moment. “No, actually, Jeri won’t be joining me for a couple of days, so if you need any help with your bags, I’d be happy to assist.”
Suddenly, she felt bad about her sarcastic remarks. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you, but hang on a second, let me check our tickets,” she rummaged in her purse until she found the ticket. “Let me see, yes, we’re on American as well into London and then Air France into Monte Carlo.”
“I see, what’s that last flight number?”
“769.”
“Me too. Perhaps we’ll meet at the airport, then?”
“Perhaps! And by the way, how’s your mother doing?”
“They say she’s doing better and she told me that I had better not miss this trip, I was worried about leaving her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine, at least she’s in good hands.”
“That’s true, and by the way, thanks for visiting her, Francine, she really appreciated it and so do I.”
“No problem, she’s a nice lady.”
She put the phone down and stared at the receiver, a curious look in her eye. ‘Now, what was that all about?
’
she mused. ‘If I didn’t know better, that almost sounded like he wanted to spend time with me on this trip!’
She shook her head curiously as the phone rang yet again. This time it was another familiar male voice.
“Hi, Baby.” it was Roger.
“Hi.”
“Busy?”
“What do you think?”
“Oh, yeah. Monte Carlo, how’s it going?”
“Well, I think we’re going to make it. What’s going on at your end?”
“Just got back from Memphis and I’m due some leave so I’m trying to wangle an assignment in Europe so I can catch your show.”
“How sweet!”
“So, when do you arrive there?”
“This Saturday, the 28
th
. We’re staying at Hotel Du Nord, Do you know it?”
“No, but I’ll find it if I can con them into a trip. What are you doing tonight?”
“Working, working, working!”
“All work and no play…” he began.
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “Tell you what, I’ll stop by later if it’s not too late.”
He suddenly sounded slightly evasive. “Well, I did have a charity function to go to first. Give me a call on my mobile if you can make it, okay?”
“Sure, no problem. Bye.”
“Bye.”
She put the phone down. Typical Roger, not exactly the type to stay home waiting for a call. She then sat looking out of the window, a pensive look in her eye. In quick succession, she had spoken with her boyfriend and her new ‘almost-friend’. As she analyzed her feelings, she now saw clearly that the first phone call had done so much more for her emotional sensitivity than the last one. Strange!
With Roger giving her the option of calling him if she could make it later, she opted for a good night’s sleep instead, knowing that in all probability she would not sleep on the flight into London and beyond.
As the 767 finally soared into the Texas sunset the following day on its way to Europe, Francine had said goodbye to Roger who had been tied up on a new assignment for the station for most of the day, but promising to try and make it to Monte Carlo in time for her Show.
Francine and Vince in the economy section and looked at each other, a tired smile on their faces. Vince was the first to speak.
“Did you ever think we wouldn’t make it, boss?”
“Only every single day. I’m bushed! How about you?”
“Likewise,” he yawned. “Guess I’ll try and grab a nap before dinner.”
“Go for it,” she replied, instinctively looking over her shoulder for a sign of Gerard but he was nowhere to be seen. The flight was only half full in the coach section and she quietly told herself. ‘Are you nuts? He’ll be in first class!’
She sat back as Vince, who was sitting by the window, fixed his pillow and closed his eyes. He was asleep almost instantly.
Francine looked at him in envy. Some people could sleep on planes, some couldn’t. Unfortunately, she was one of the latter group. Not sure what drove her, she got up quietly as soon as the seat belt signs were turned off and walked up front, through business class and into first class.
Even if he were there, she was not sure what she would say, but somehow her legs propelled her forward in search of the handsome entrepreneur. As she walked through the curtain into first class, she could see one of the stewardesses laughing in conversation about four rows ahead. The first class section was almost empty and she could instinctively tell, just by looking at the smile on the face of the stewardess, that she must be talking to Gerard.