Authors: Bryan Murray
DESIGN FOR LOVE (18 page)
“Yeah, well there’s time, because in case you didn’t notice what just happened, we hit the jackpot big time, Boss!”
She smiled. “You’re damn right, Rainbow man, so let’s enjoy!”
At that moment Yvette and Carl arrived, big smiles on their faces, chests bursting with pride. Yvette gave Francine a big hug.
“Darling, you were marvelous! Did you see the audience? Princess Helene actually stood up and applauded when that fabulous red number came by!”
Francine smiled. “Thanks, Guys,” she turned to a beaming Carl. “Looks like the lessons paid off, huh, Pops?”
He hugged her to him. “Big time, Baby, big time!
Later that night, closer to early morning, Francine was so light-headed from the euphoria of her success and one too many glasses of champagne, that by the time she made it back to the hotel she had lost track of time.
She had schmoozed for over two hours with the European Press, agreed to give a TV interview the following day and sandwiched in between, she had been given a verbal pat on the back by her old critic friend Chris Matlin. He had zeroed in on her at the party.
“Well, Kid,” he drawled. “I gotta hand it to you!”
She grinned. “The finale, you mean?”
“Damn right,” he continued. “Let me tell you something, when the crowned heads of Europe stand and applaud your stuff, the rest is all downhill!”
She continued to smile. “So, in other words, Chris, you liked it?”
He managed a rare smile. “Damn straight I liked it! Any woman wearing that red outfit’s gonna have to beat ‘em off with a stick!”
She grinned knowingly. “Is that before or after she knocks ‘em dead in the aisles?”
He smiled again. “Definitely after, Miss Dubois,” he shook her hand. “Watch this space, okay?”
She nodded that she understood. “With baited breath, Chris!”
He nodded as he moved on. “Bye.”
“Bye, Chris.”
Francine was elated that Matlin liked her finale and after he had moved on, she was immediately confronted by a crowd of potential European buyers, asking for details of how they could make contact for future purchases. Vince, ever prepared, had been handing out promotional material in her wake until the moment they left.
Later, back in the relative calm of her room in the hotel, Francine was now finally starting to unwind. Vince had long since crashed and burned and Yvette and Carl had turned in for the night. Francine poured herself a long, cool drink and stepped out onto the verandah to savor the events of the evening before turning in.
She checked for any phone messages from Gerard but there were none and still, above all the excitement of the evening, the fact that she had not heard from him was hard to understand.
Realizing that she would not sleep until she knew the reason why, she took another fortifying drink, in support of those that had gone before and being in somewhat of a fearless mood, she picked up the phone and asked to be connected with Gerard’s room.
She almost dropped her glass when the hotel operator told her. “I’m sorry, Miss Dubois, but Mr. Cinclare has already checked out of the hotel!”
“But he can’t have, surely?”
“I’m afraid so, over an hour ago!”
“Thank you.” Francine put the phone down, totally deflated, ‘Not even a goodbye!
’
she sighed, trying to figure out what could have caused him to leave so suddenly. Had she come on too strong before backing off out there at the beach? Was he feeling guilty at being unfaithful to Jeri, or was it business that had called him away at short notice? Finally, through the alcoholic haze in her brain, she suddenly put her hand to her heart. ‘Oh, my God! Don’t let it be Helen!
’
She finally turned in for a fitful night’s sleep, thoughts of Gerard still in her mind, but also still a few nagging doubts concerning what the European fashion press would say in print about her creations in just a few short hours.
She needn’t have worried because she was awoken from a troubled sleep, with cotton dry mouth and the beginnings of a decent hangover, by a jubilant Vince who burst into her the room, his arms full of European newspapers. He tossed them on a coffee table, “Read them and smile, Princess!” he chirped.
She was now wide awake. “You mean…?”
“I mean they
loved
you!”
She put her hand to her heart. “Oh, my God!”
“Exactly, so we’d better brace ourselves from hereon in, because things are going to get a
little
hectic!”
She squeezed his shoulder excitedly. “I think you’re right!”
“I
know
I’m right.” he gushed.
“So, we’d better get packed and out of here.”
He grinned. “I’ve already packed, ordered the limo to the airport for after your TV interview, so, brush your teeth and put on some clothes and let’s get moving!”
With a theatrical flourish he was gone. Francine sat in the chair and picked up the newspapers, found a pair of scissors in her cosmetics bag and started to cut out the various articles. All were complimentary if her grasp of French was anything to go by and even the walking gland himself, Phillipe Mitterrand had only good things to say.
She called down to room service for a quick breakfast, spoke to Yvette who told her that she and Carl were staying on for a few days, showered and packed and by 10-30, she and Vince were in the limo on the way to the TV interview.
Luckily for Francine, it was an American TV station doing the taping and so the brief encounter was at least in English, all of which went very smoothly before their final dash to the airport.
As they checked their bags, Francine still found herself looking around at the gate for signs of Gerard, but the handsome entrepreneur was nowhere to be seen.
Even at the airport in London, as they boarded their flight to Dallas, there was no sign of him. She was now convinced that she had frightened him off with that kiss, toe-tingling though it had been, but somehow it was also a kiss that he seemed to return. But who knows, she pondered, in the cool light of day, either some momentarily misplaced loyalty to Jeri had returned, or his lack of desire for a new relationship had won through.
As they settled back in their seats, Vince as usual was watching her every move. “Still thinking about you know who?”
She was jolted from her reverie. “No, no,” she replied a little too hastily. “What made you think that?”
He smiled and patted her arm. “Oh, I don’t know, call it feminine intuition!” he winked at her and she finally smiled.
“Yeah, right, so, let’s talk tactics. Where do we go from here?”
“Firstly, we man the phones, because unless I’m very much mistaken, they’re gonna be going ring-a-ding-ding!”
“Right, and we need to get Stella in for a quick conference. I should hate for her to be committed elsewhere just when we start to get busy!”
“That’s for sure. I’m also going to call Verna. It’ll make her day when she hears about the red dress!”
“Yes, good idea.”
And so, as the flight continued, Francine and Vince started to make major plans, plans that for the moment did not include one Gerard Cinclare.
“Mommy, mommy!” Alison was delighted to see Francine when Mrs.‘T’ brought her home from dance class. “Did you bring me a present?” the child asked.
Francine smiled. “Hi, sweetie, is that all you can think of?”
Alison put her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry, Mommy, how did it go?”
Francine hugged her. “It was great, darling, a big success!”
“And did you sell lots of clothes?”
“Well, not yet, darling, but at least the orders should start coming in.”
“Great!” Alison was genuinely pleased as Francine hugged her again,
“So, before we talk presents, have you been good for Mrs.‘T’?”
The child looked a little sheepish. “Kind of.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I forgot to do my homework one night and got a note from the teacher.”
“And?”
“I stayed behind for a make-up test the next day.”
“Well, next time, we’ll remember, right?”
“Yes, Mom,” Alison looked at her beseechingly. “So, did you…?”
“Did I bring you a present? Could I ever forget. C’mon with me.”
Francine took Alison to her room where she had put a beautiful dress on the bed for Alison’s approval. She need not have worried, the child was ecstatic.
“Oh, Mom, it’s cool,
real
cool!”
Francine smiled. “Well, cool is not exactly the word I would have chosen, but I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it, I
love
it!” the child hugged Francine tightly.
* * * *
Although tired after the long trip, Francine was at the workshop by 7-30 the next morning and a totally drained Vince and Thelma were already trying to man all five incoming lines.
Francine had forgotten that Europe was six hours ahead and the calls from France were rolling in together with calls from England and the rest of Europe.
She pitched in to answer the phones and by the time that lunch arrived, they had a fistful of orders, many for the red dress, so many that Francine was already on the phone to Verna.
“Yes, darling, the effort was well worth it,” she explained. “Yes, the orders are rolling in so we need to get a major commitment for another long dye run from Sorrenstein for the special red!”
Verna laughed. “Great, I can just see old Isaac’s face when I tell him.”
Francine continued, all business. “Tell him I’m going to make him famous, that’ll get him off his tired old butt!”
Verna chuckled. “If anything can these days that could be it. Leave it with me, darling, and well done, Francine!”
“Thanks.” Francine put the phone down as others continued to ring, one of the callers being Henrietta from the Dallas Morning News.
“Hi, Francine, this is Henrietta, how did it go?”
“Hi, it was great, Henrietta. I’m afraid I can’t talk now, things are hectic. Give me a few days and we’ll get together. What I can tell you is that we were a hit!”
“That’s great!”
“I’ll call you soon, bye.”
“Bye, Francine, way to go!”
* * * *
It had been almost a week since Francine had returned and she had still not heard a word from Gerard. Not wishing to make a nuisance of herself and certainly not to appear pushy, if indeed it had been her kiss that had turned him off, she wondered how to try and make contact, just to see if there was still some spark between them.
It was thus, during a brief lunchtime break from the hectic scene at the workshop that Francine drove over to the hospital to visit Helen. She figured that perhaps his mother would at least tell her where Gerard was and what was going on in his life.
She arrived at the hospital and made her way to the ward where Helen’s room was located. There were no nurses on the floor and so she tiptoed to the room. She knocked once, opened the door and looked inside before entering.
She stared in shock at the empty bed, new sheets on top ready for the bed to be made up. Where was Helen? Perhaps she had been released. Francine jumped as a voice behind her asked. “Can I help you?”
She turned to see a Nurse standing there.
“Yes, I was looking for Mrs. Cinclare?”
“Are you a relative?”
“Ah no, just a friend.”
The Nurse looked at her as if making up her mind. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Mrs. Cinclare passed away three days ago!”
Francine was devastated. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Was it…?”
“Another massive stroke, I’m afraid.”
Francine’s mind was in a whirl. “Did her son get to see her before…?” she left the sentence unfinished.
The Nurse gave a wistful smile. “Yes, Miss, he was at her bedside right to the end. He and his fiancée had to rush back from overseas, but yes, he made it.”
Francine found tears in her eyes, not sure if they were for Helen or for Gerard’s grief. She looked again at the empty bed before leaving. “Thank you.” was all she could manage.
“You’re welcome.” the Nurse replied before moving on down the corridor.
Francine walked back to her car, almost in a daze, her mind slowly beginning to focus. So that was why Gerard suddenly disappeared from the show, perhaps he wasn’t backing away as she had suspected. But there was Jeri, still holding his hand when he returned, according to the nurse!
She pondered what to do next and finally decided to send a sympathy card to begin with, thinking that he would only just be getting over the trauma of the funeral.
She stopped by the local drug store, bought a card and wrote it back at the workshop. Vince came in as she was putting the stamp on. She had simply addressed it to Gerard at his Cinclare Offices in Dallas.
Vince saw the sad look in her eyes. “Bad news?” he asked.
“Yes, Gerard’s mother died!”
He looked genuinely saddened. “Oh, I’m sorry, Francine, you liked her didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did, will you stick it in the mail for me please?”
“Sure, no problem.”
As the afternoon wore on, Francine’s mind wandered back to what the nurse had told her back at the hospital and just the thought of sending only a sympathy card, already in the mail, seemed a bit lame. After all, if nothing else, Gerard was still at least a friend.
She quickly pulled out the yellow pages and found the number for ‘House of Cinclare’ in Dallas, took a deep breath and dialed the number.
A friendly female voice answered. “House of Cinclare, can I help you?”
“Can I speak with Mr. Cinclare, please?”
The voice at the other end suddenly changed to a softer, more confidential tone. “I’m afraid he’s not here at the moment. Can I give him a message?”
“No, that’s okay, I’m just a friend.”
Again the voice changed to an even more confidential tone. “He’s at a funeral, but he will be in the office tomorrow.”
Francine’s heart missed a beat. “Oh, of course, his mother,” she thought for a moment. “Do you know what time the funeral starts?”
“2-30 at Southwest Cemetery on Greenville Avenue.”
Francine quickly glanced at her watch. ‘In forty minutes.
’
she quickly thanked the lady. “Thanks for your help.”