"Paige! Did you do this? This isn't how the dress is supposed to be presented!" Sydney's fan was shaking in agitation.
Paige shook her head adamantly. "I asked one of the interns to dress her, not restyle her!" she barked.
Eliza paled. This was it. She knew she had totally overstepped her boundaries--her job was to help zip up the dress, certainly not do anything so important as accessorize it.
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Sydney scanned the room intensely. "Who is the intern responsible for this?"
Eliza gulped and slowly raised her hand.
"What's your name?" he asked, taking off his sunglasses and giving her a critical once-over.
"Eliza Thompson, sir."
He puckered his lips. "Billie Thompson's daughter. N'est-ce pas?
"Yes, sir--I mean, Sydney."
Sydney sniffed as if he smelled something bad. He closed his eyes. The whole room was quivering with tension, half of them feeling sorry for Eliza, the other half thankful it wasn't them in the hot seat.
The prickly designer finally opened his eyes. He looked at Vidalia again. "Well, Eliza, I have to say, this is simply fabulous!"
Eliza, and the rest of the room, exhaled.
"But the rest is dog shit." His fan fluttered again.
"Er, thank you, I think," Eliza said, bowing her head. She snuck a peek at the front of the room and suppressed a grin. Paige wore a scowl on her face.
Sydney whispered to Paige behind his fan, and soon he had left the room again. Paige wearily clapped to attract everyone's attention. "All right, people. We obviously have a lot of work to do, so let's get started," she said, and the group disbanded to resume their tasks.
Eliza went back to the T-shirt pile, her face glowing. Sydney
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had loved the outfit--he'd even said she was good --no, he'd said she was simply fabulous. It was like a lightning bolt through the clouds. She'd loved helping style the dress. Working on the look was the first time she'd ever felt passionate about her work-- really, the first time she'd felt excited about anything other than shopping.
A shadow suddenly enveloped Eliza. She looked up to find Paige looming over her. Insta-buzz kill.
"Sydney would like you to take a look at the rest of his line." Each word seemed painful for Paige to speak. "I'll take over folding the T-shirts."
Eliza leaped to attention and handed over the folding board. Even though her feet were sore and her joints ached, a sweet feeling of satisfaction seeped into her bones and made her oblivious to the pain.
Suddenly, the job wasn't so boring after all.
40
you can't always get what you want. . . .
THE LIMOUSINE INCHED FORWARD FOR SEVERAL BLOCKS, stuck in Midtown gridlock. All around them the streets were jammed with harried commuters trying to get out of the city early on a Friday afternoon, a veritable Escape from New York. Sometimes it took longer to get out of the city than it took to drive to the Hamptons.
Jacqui stretched her legs in the back of the limousine, dozing as the kids flipped channels on the built-in DVD player and Anna made phone calls. Her Sidekick vibrated, and she checked the screen. The new-message icon was flashing. She clicked on it idly but caught her breath once she saw the sender's e-mail address: [email protected] . It could only mean one thing. The school had finally come to a decision. After a deep breath, she scrolled down to read it.
To: [email protected] From: [email protected]
Dear Jacarei Velasco,
We regret to inform you that we are unable to