A few days later, her parents were away for the night, so Eliza invited the girls to come over to her house for dinner, thinking it would be fun for the three of them to cook together instead of going out all the time. She'd visited the farmers' market that
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afternoon and had returned with fresh vegetables and herbs, and her boss at Lunch had given her a few fat trout filets to take home.
Eliza was marinating the fish in olive oil and lemon when Jacqui and Mara entered, bearing wine bottles and fresh bread from Citarella.
"I love your kitchen," Mara said, putting away the groceries and looking over Eliza's shoulder to take a peek at the fish. "This is such a great house." She squeezed Eliza's arm affectionately.
Eliza smiled. "Thanks, it was my grandmother's. They've had it for ages. Dad had to pay double what they sold it for, but it was worth it."
The Thompsons' kitchen had an earthy, comfortable, shabby quality belied by the custom built-in stainless-steel industrial Traulsen refrigerators. Eliza's mom had decorated in a vaguely French country style, with tons of rooster- and hen-shaped crockery and colorful floral towels. Whitewashed floorboards, rusting and paint-scraped window finishes. And every conceivable surface was covered by family photographs. Eliza on her fifth
birthday, wearing a pink dress and carrying a parasol. Her parents dancing at the Stork Club. Eliza on skis in Gstaad. Her mother as a debutante at the Waldorf. Photographs from a glamorous yet loving family life.
Mara admired each picture, thinking Eliza led a charmed and charming life--the kitchen hummed with good energy.
"What's this?" Jacqui asked, noticing a thick sketchbook in
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the middle of the table. She opened it and began leafing through the pages. "Wow, Liza. Is this your stuff? It's really good."
Eliza nodded as she stuck the fish in the broiler. "Uh-huh." She told them about her idea for setting up her own label, her face aglow.
"It's brilliant," Mara said, looking at the theme that Eliza had put together. "Can we do anything?"
"Thank God yo
u asked--I need so much help," Eliza confessed, outlining the different tasks: cutting fabric, acting as fit models for the patterns, putting together a press release, meeting with boutique owners. "I bought a sewing machine, but I'm going to have the samples made by real garment workers in the city."
"When's the fashion show?" Jacqui asked, taking a sip from her glass. She'd already offered to help Eliza as a sales coordinator--she would tell her bosses at the boutique in Brazil about the new line.
"A show--God, I never even thought of that," Eliza admitted. "But that's a great idea."
"Sydney's showing the last week of August," Mara informed her. "We just got the invitation today. He's not doing Fashion Week in New York; he wants to show early."
"Wouldn't it be funny if I did my show on the same night?" Eliza laughed. Then she realized--that was exactly what she was going to do. "But how am I going to do a show without any money? I'd have to pay to rent a place and everything. I can't afford that."
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"Why don't you do it on the beach? The beach is free. There's a really nice stretch over on Flying Point that's pretty far from any houses. You could have it there," Jacqui said, thinking of the night she'd spent with Grant and feeling sad that they had yet to speak to each other. Grant was ignoring her calls. She'd told her friends what had happened, and they'd both told her to give it time.
"I love it. I'm going to do it!" Eliza decided. "Thanks, guys."
They set the table and sat down to dinner. The fish was fresh and wonderfully moist, and they all complimented Eliza on her cooking.
"Jeremy's a lucky guy," Mara said.
Eliza winced. "I don't know. We're not really talking at the moment." She told them about what had happened the other day at Lunch. It made her unhappy. She didn't know if they were still together or just fighting. "Anyway, I guess one of us should apologize, but I can't decide if I'm waiting for him to call me or if I should just call him."
"You should call him," Mara urged. "Summer's almost over. You don't want to waste any more time," she said, thinking more about herself and Ryan. She told them about finally getting into Dartmouth, and they drank to her acceptance.
"But you don't seem happy?" Jacqui noticed.
"I am, but I'm not," Mara admitted. "I kind of feel like I really want to stay in New York, but then there's Ryan. . . ."
"Boys," Eliza summed up. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."