Glamour (13 page)

She nods and leans back into her pillow. “Thank you.”

I study her closely. “About the blood, Fran, maybe I should call a doctor and — ”

“It’s happened before,” she says quietly but firmly. “This too will pass … “ She sighs and closes her eyes. “Just need time. And Pepto-Bismol.”

“I’m going to run down to the hotel shop.” I pause at the door, picking up the little hanging sign. “Maybe I should put this do not disturb sign on your door in case the maids try to come in.”

“Yes. I don’t want them to see that … bathroom.”

“Right.” I suspect this means I’ll get to clean it up. As I’m going down the elevator, I can feel my adrenaline pumping. This thing with Fran is so stressful. When I saw her all bloody like that, I was sure she was dying. Maybe she
is
dying. Can I really trust her—that this is normal? How would I even know?

Fortunately, the gift store in the hotel has Pepto-Bismol. I also get some Tums and a couple of cartons of yogurt too. As I’m taking these to the elevator, I run into Paige coming in from the beach.

“What’s in the bag?” she asks as we ride up.

“Something for Fran,” I admit. “She’s got a stomachache.”

“Too bad.” Then she steps away from me with wide eyes. “I hope it’s not catching.”

“Me too. Just in case, you’d better keep your distance from her today.” What we’ll all do tomorrow is a mystery.

“Tell her to get well,” Paige says as we part ways.

If only it were that simple,
I think as I go through my room and into Fran’s. “Paige said to get well,” I announce a bit glibly as I close the door.

“What?” Fran looks alarmed. “Did you tell her?”

“She thinks you have the flu.”

“Oh.”

After a dose of Pepto-Bismol, I get Fran to eat some yogurt. Then I offer to go over tomorrow’s plan with her. I’m surprised at how intricate it is; she almost has every minute scheduled. And the detailed schedule continues throughout the week: the various fashion shows, the
Britain’s Got Style
show, and so on. It’s all laid out like a well-formulated battle plan, and I can tell that if we don’t stick to it, there will be problems. “We have quite a week,” I say to her as I close her laptop. “You think you’re going to be able to do this?”

“I don’t know.”

I’m trying to remember how many times she’s said that —
I don’t know, I don’t know.
If Fran doesn’t know, who does?

“While you were downstairs, I recalled that something like this happened quite a bit the other time.”

“Huh?”

“Vomiting blood,” she says quietly. “My stomach got really irritated before. Then I got better. And your yogurt and Pepto-Bismol seemed to help.” She makes a weak smile. “If you decide to give up TV, you might consider taking up medicine.”

Or housekeeping,
I think as I go into the disaster-area bathroom and attempt to clean most of the mess up with tissues. Finally I resort to a wet towel. Using it like a mop, I manage to make the bathroom look somewhat respectable again. I’m just finishing up when I hear my phone ringing. I run to get it and see that it’s Paige.

“You ready to go shopping?”

I glance over to where Fran is resting in bed. She seems okay right now, but who knows what’s next? And what if she needs me and I’m at some store? “I think I should stay with Fran,” I tell Paige.

“Really? Is she
that
sick?”

“Well, she threw up.”

“Ugh.”

“So, if you don’t mind, maybe you could just head out on your own.” I glance at Fran and see she’s relieved.

“But I really wanted you with me, Erin. It’s no fun to go shopping alone.”

“Take JJ,” I suggest. “In fact, you should take him so he can film you while you explore the island.” Fran nods as if this is a good idea.

“It would be better if you were along too. One girl shopping alone is kind of bleak … and a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

“I have a feeling you can spark it up if you try, Paige.”

“Maybe. But it won’t be fun. Now it’ll feel more like work.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. You know as well as I do, if Fran doesn’t get to feeling better, we’ll have a hard time doing the show this week.”

“You’re right.”

After I hang up, I look at Fran and see that her eyes are closed. Whether she’s actually sleeping or just playing possum is anyone’s guess. I straighten her room a bit, since I doubt that we’ll be getting maid service in here, and go into my room, leaving the door open between us. I fire up my computer and start reading about leukemia.

It’s not the first time I’ve researched this. I like information and I always hope that if you look long and hard enough, you can find the answer to just about anything. Unfortunately, leukemia could be the exception to this rule, because no matter how much I look, there doesn’t seem to be any rock-solid answers. And, of course, there is no certain cure. Sometimes treatment works on the kind of leukemia Fran has, but most of the time, it doesn’t.

Finally, I decide to call Mom. She’s back from Paris and answers her cell phone from Jon’s place.
Her
new place, I remember.

“Erin,” she says happily. “How are you, sweetheart?”

I exchange a few pleasantries, inquire about their Paris trip, and then I go into my bathroom, just in case Fran can hear me, close the door, and give her a long update about Fran’s condition.

“Oh, dear, Erin. That sounds serious.”

“That’s what I thought too. I wonder if she should go to a hospital.”

“That’s a good question.”

“My biggest question is, should I tell Helen about this?”

“I wish Fran had told her.”

“Me too.”

“Well, it’s Sunday. I suppose you could call Helen at home.”

“Or I could wait and see if Fran really does get better by tomorrow. She keeps thinking she’s going to turn a corner. I’ve seen her go through chemo treatments before, and she’ll be so wiped out I think she’s going to die, and the next thing I know she’s up and dressed and ready to go.”

“What’s on the docket for tomorrow?” Mom asks. “Is it a very full day?”

I tell her about the swimsuit shoot on the beach and a fashion show we’ll catch in the afternoon. “It’s not jam-packed, but it’s busy. Although I suppose I can try to cover for Fran if she’s dragging. I wish Leah had been able to come with us.”

“Maybe you should call Helen tomorrow and ask her to send Leah,” Mom says. “Tell her Fran is ill and needs some extra assistance. You don’t have to tell Helen everything. Just that you’re a little short-handed. She should understand.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck in the middle of that whole mess,” Mom says. “It really doesn’t seem fair. That’s a lot for Fran to put on you.”

“Well, Fran’s got a lot weighing on her too.”

“I know. And you feel free to call me for anything, Erin. Even if it’s just to unload. Okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I do feel a little better after I hang up. I think Mom is right. This can probably wait until tomorrow. Helen will be in her office then, and hopefully she can send Leah out on the next plane. In the meantime, I’ll continue to pray. But I’m starting to wonder— where is that miracle I’ve been asking for?

On Monday I feel hopeful. By the time
I check on her, Fran is up and dressed and assuring me she’s over the hump and ready for the day.

“Did you eat anything?” I ask, feeling like her mother.

She points to a tray of partially eaten food. “And I had the other yogurt you brought me last night.”

Satisfied that we might pull this off, I go to Paige’s suite, where Shauna and Luis are already set up for hair and makeup, and where Paige is selecting today’s wardrobe for us.

“I was reading about new designers who are debuting here this week,” she calls over to me from the closet. “Remember Rhiannon Farley?”

“Yes,” I say eagerly. “In New York. I loved her designs.”

“Well, it says here that she’s partnering with Eliza Wilton to—”

“Rhiannon is partnering with
Eliza?”
I turn my head, causing the eyeliner Shauna was applying to go across my nose.

“Nice move,” she says as she reaches for a tissue.

“Sorry.” I turn back around. “That is stunning news, Paige. Are you sure you read it right?”

“Yes. Apparently Eliza is the financial backing and business part of the deal and, naturally, Rhiannon brings the creativity.”

“That’s crazy. I can’t imagine two more different people.”

Paige laughs. “Kind of like you and me?”

“I guess.”

“But remember, Rhiannon and Eliza went to school together with Taylor and DJ and those other girls that Katherine Carter was grooming for the fashion world.”

I smile to myself as I recall DJ’s recounting of her grandmother’s high aspirations for those “Carter house girls.” Maybe the old woman had some influence after all. Especially since three of the girls are making a splash in the fashion scene. “So does that mean Rhiannon is here in the Bahamas?” I ask Paige.

“Yes, and it looks like she’s showing some casual wear during the same time slot as the
Couture
show tomorrow morning, which we’re scheduled to cover. It says here that Rhiannon is part of the Eco Show.”

“So we’ll miss Rhiannon’s show?”

“Unfortunately.”

“What if we split up?” I suggest. “I could take my camera to Rhiannon’s show and get some—”

“I don’t know.” Paige sounds doubtful. “You’d better check with Fran.”

“Right.”

So as soon as I’m done in hair and makeup, I hurry back to Fran’s room, where she is on the phone and the computer and looking almost like her normal self. I wait for her phone conversation to end then pitch my new idea.

“I want to cover part of the Eco Show,” I tell her. “I thought I could take my camera over there tomorrow, while you guys are shooting the
Couture
show.”

Fran frowns, looking as if she’s about to nix my idea. Suddenly she shrugs. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I nod eagerly. “I can do that?”

“I actually think it’s a good idea. Maybe you should set up some interviews with some of the other eco designers too.”

“Really?”

“It’s a good opportunity, Erin.”

“So I can take one of the camera guys with me?”

She grabs a copy of our schedule and begins highlighting certain things in yellow. “These are the events you must attend with Paige. Anything you can fit in between these times is up for grabs.” She then highlights some other things in pink. “These are some of the events where I think we can get by with one cameraman. I want to keep JJ and the rest of the crew with Paige, but if you want to take Alistair with you, I’m okay with it.” She gives me the schedule as well as a printout list of designers and contact numbers.

I can’t believe how relaxed Fran is about all this. She’s usually much more of a control freak. Then I remember what she’s dealing with, and the realization is bittersweet.

The first thing on today’s docket is the swimsuit shoot. I’d heard that the most beautiful bodies are to be seen at Bahamas Fashion Week, and now I know that it’s true. And they are not all stick-thin emaciated either. Many of the models look fairly healthy and robust, as if they work out. Both men and women come here from all different countries, and they are overwhelmingly gorgeous. To see them posing against the golden sand and turquoise water is spectacular.

Unfortunately, the weather is being less than cooperative. The wind is gusting, which knocks down one of the changing tents, and the rapid cloud movement plays havoc with the crew’s lighting. It all makes for some interesting moments and fun footage, and our cameramen seem to be enjoying themselves.

As we work on this shoot, in between times when Paige and I are actually doing our commentary, I’m sneaking peeks at the list of eco designers and making some phone calls. By the time we wrap it up, I have a Haitian designer willing to be interviewed at twelve thirty this afternoon.

“I’ve got Murielle Leconte set for an interview,” I tell Fran. “I’ll do it while Paige is meeting with Andrew Harris.”

Fran blinks rapidly. “Really? That’s great.” Then she tells me that since the Andrew Harris interview is in our hotel, Alistair and I can take the rental van to where the Leconte group is set up.

On the way to Murielle’s hotel I quickly peruse a website I found that has some photos of her designs. She uses bright, island-friendly colors and natural materials, and everything has a happy, light feeling. I mentally compare her clothes to the designs that Brogan Braxton put together—and while they both utilize bright colors, Brogan’s pieces seemed flat, with no flare or personality. They reminded me of paint-by-number, whereas Murielle’s designs feel alive and active and real—more like original works of art.

As it turns out, I need a translator to interview Murielle. As a result, I keep my questions very basic and general and then focus much of the time and camera on her designs. She not only designs beautiful clothing, but also bags, scarves, household items, and jewelry. She uses a lot of burlap, a design twist
that I love, and the texture makes a great contrast with the bright colors. When we finish, I feel that despite the language barrier, we are
simpatico.
I thank her profusely and she gives me one of her wonderful burlap bags.

“Well done,” Alistair tells me as we drive back to the hotel. “Although I’m surprised Fran let you do it.”

“Yeah, I’m a little surprised too. At least we’re getting extra footage for the show. I’m hoping to get enough for a whole episode on eco design.”

“That’s a great idea.”

We make it back in time for the Peter Nygârd casual wear show, where Paige is already doing her thing. Alistair and I join her as we get some on-the-spot interviews and shots of models. Then Paige and I find our seats and the show begins. But as the models start working the runway, I realize I haven’t seen Fran around. I know she likes to stay behind the scenes, but I can usually spot her.

“Where’s Fran?” I ask Paige as a model wearing a striped, hooded dress struts by.

“I thought she was with you.”