“This dress is a miracle. I’m not even sure how it stays up. I feel beautiful.” That was true, even if beautiful came with a side of redundant. She was going into a ballroom full of people she didn’t know and would never meet again, with no purpose other than to reflect well on Reid by looking pretty and not saying anything dumb. It rankled, and that was a buzz kill. “Thank you, Car.”
“We have to scoot,” Kathryn said, picking up her bag and Lizabeth’s. “This dress is a fantastic calling card,” she said to Cara.
“I’ll email you what I got,” said Lizabeth and they were gone.
Cara burst into tears.
“Oh, God, what’s wrong?”
She held Zarley off with her arms out in front. “Don’t touch me, you’ll get mussed. I’m fine,” she sniffed, rubbing her face. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever made and you look stunning.”
“I knew you could do it.”
“Well, I didn’t. That new machine is different to my old one. The fabric was so delicate, the whole way it’s supposed to fit and hang, I didn’t know if I was good enough.”
Zarley sighed. This was worse than the buzz kill of her own anxiety. This was all of Cara’s insecurities tripped by the loss of her job and their apartment, brought back to life on a night she should be celebrating.
“But you did do it. You made a miracle dress.”
“It really is the body it’s on, Zar.”
“And when you sell it, it’ll get more attention and—”
“I can’t sell it.”
“That was the plan.”
“It’s tailored for you. It’s not going to fit just anyone.”
She should’ve realized that. It was the same with her stage costumes. No one could borrow them because they were an exact fit for Zarley.
“It’s going to be all right. We’ll find a new place to live. You’ll get a job. You’ll get new dressmaking commissions.”
Cara nodded, but she wouldn’t meet Zarley’s eyes. “He’ll be here in any minute.”
“How much pain are you in?”
Cara’s bottom wobbled. “It’s the bed. It’s too soft, but I’m back on anti-inflammatories, it’ll be better in a day or two.”
Oh not good, there had to be a better solution than Cara in more than usual pain. But Kathryn’s doorbell rang and Cara hit the door release to let Reid into the building. They heard him on the stairs and then he was at the door.
“I’ll get it.” Cara’s eyes and face were red, but both of them knew Reid wouldn’t be focused on her. She went down Kathryn’s narrow hall and Zarley heard her open the door and greet Reid.
He came into the room and her performance anxiety, her worry over Cara turned to vapor from the scorching look he gave her.
“Hot damn.” He plucked at his lip, eyes roaming over her body. “You can’t be real. Cara, did you paint that on her?”
r /> “That might’ve been easier,” Cara said, coming up behind him. She’d splashed water on her face.
“Zarley, you’re going to blow the room up.”
“I hope not, messy,” she said. “You don’t look too rough yourself.” He looked very fine. He was a jeans and shirt man. She’d seen him in sweats and briefs and nothing, but never in a suit, the full force of Reid in black tie was impressive.
“That’s a tailor-made suit?” Cara said, impressed. She had her phone in one hand, Zarley’s in the other. She made them pose together, standing close, Zarley’s arm looped over Reid’s. They kept sneaking looks at each other. Zarley hoped at least one of Cara’s photos came out okay. She broke from him and reached for her cell. Snapped a shot of Reid and Cara and then they both watched Cara limp to Kathryn’s sofa and sit.
“Why do you limp?” Reid asked. He’d asked about Cara’s limp, the night of the fire. He’d asked again when they were haggling over whether he’d buy her a new sewing machine. Both times she fobbed him off. And when he’d asked Zarley, she’d told him it was Cara’s story to tell. He didn’t look like he was going to be fobbed off now.
“Why do you need to know?” Cara fired back at him.