“And now down to business,” the host said. “It’s time to announce the five finalists whose designs will be produced ahead of final judgment.”
“Wait,” Beck said. “There’s no actual jewelry been made yet?”
“Not officially. We’ve submitted the designs.” I’d been able to source most of the stones already and the pieces were all but finished. The only thing I didn’t have was the emeralds, because of my change of heart from Columbian to Zambian.
“These guys are judging off plan, I see.”
“Yeah. It’s not like a building though. A piece can be made or broken because of the stones.” I understood why the organizers with the Finnish royal family had decided to break the competition down like this. They wanted the maximum number of entrants at the beginning because that would generate the most publicity and money for the charitable causes being supported. And it wouldn’t be fair for some of the less-established jewelers to make the pieces unless they were going to have a fair chance at winning. It would be a huge financial outlay to make a collection for a royal wedding. I understood all that. I just didn’t agree with it. It was possible to get a feel for a piece when you saw it on paper, but it didn’t tell you everything about the final ring or bracelet or tiara.
Someone else took over the lectern—I had no idea who. For years I’d kept my focus on me and my business, not taking too much notice of what was going on in the industry. It worked for me. I hadn’t gotten bogged down in gossip and politics. And I’d found a path from which I could honor my parents without hearing the condolences and constant comparisons.
The first name was announced—Garrard. No surprise there. Conservative and steady choice. Then Graff, followed by Cartier.
Two slots left.
I glanced over at Hollie. I’d never seen her anything but smiling, but now her jaw was tense and her expression steady, as if beneath the soft curls and wide smile a layer of steel hid.
“The fourth finalist to go through is Van Cleef and Arples,” the emcee said.
Hollie turned toward me and gave me a forlorn look that conveyed a mutual understanding—at least one of us would leave this room disappointed. I had no idea she’d seen me.
“And the last finalist is . . . Daniels & Co.”
I took a deep breath as Beck clapped me on the back. “Knew you had it.”
I glanced over at Hollie, who looked back with an expression of shock and dismay. I really wanted to go over and comfort her but didn’t want to risk bumping into any of the people from Sparkle. Besides, I’d sworn I’d not greet her in public.
Shit. I pulled out my phone.
“You are a shitty date,” Beck said. “Aren’t you going to get me drunk?”
“Hang on a minute,” I replied, typing out a short message to say I was sorry to Hollie.
I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and watched as she read my message.
She looked up and gave me a forced smile.
I should be delighted that Daniels & Co was in this final without Sparkle. But I had no sense of victory.
Ten
Hollie
And the hits just kept on coming.
I stepped out of the Sparkle office and onto the raindrop-splattered pavement, and glanced up into the sky. Of course it was raining. When I’d first arrived in London, the rain was comforting and familiar, but now it just reminded me I’d be home sooner than I wanted to be.
I’d known this internship was too good to be true. I didn’t fit in this kind of life. I’d been stupid for thinking I could exist outside the Sunshine Trailer Park.
How was I going to tell Autumn I’d been fired? She’d believed in me, wanted the win for me almost as much as I wanted it for myself. I was letting my sister down on top of having all my dreams come tumbling down on top of me all at once.
I’d never lost a job in my life before. And now the only job that could lead to something, could lead to a life I wanted, had been ripped away from me. How was this fair? I tipped my head back, letting the rain fall on my face as if it could wash away the despair rising in my chest.
All that money on flights and renting my studio—all gone. My stomach churned at the thought of how many thousands of dollars I had wasted on a couple of weeks in England. I didn’t have enough experience for it to count on my resume, I hadn’t secured a letter of recommendation, and I wouldn’t have any savings left once I’d paid to get back to Oregon early.
I’d had my shot and it was over.
At least Pauly had kept my job open at the factory so I had something to go back to.