Come Away With Me (The Andrades) (12 page)

Oh, Dad.

Is this how you felt when you met Mom? Or am I making the biggest mistake of my life?

I know I should walk away from this situation, but I can’t.

I want to see him again.

The clerk’s voice rose and broke into her thoughts. “Mrs. Rockport. I didn’t know you were coming in today. I’
d close the boutique for you now, but I have a woman in the back trying on some dresses.”

An older woman’s voice answered curtly
, “As long as she’s not some simpering, preening fool I’m sure I’ll be able to overlook her presence.”

“Yes, Mrs. Rockport.
Yvonne isn’t here today. Are you looking for something off the rack?”

“
If she were here I would already have a glass of champagne in my hand. Not that she carries the good stuff, but it’s the courtesy that matters.” After a brief pause, the older woman said, “What are you waiting for? Go get one.”

Crotchety old bitch.

Julia admonished herself for the thought.
Money doesn’t make people happy. She’s probably miserable and lonely. Why else would she come to the shop alone when someone like her could have whatever she wanted delivered?

Turning her attention back to the mirror, Julia held her hair up and
studied it from the side.
No, I’ll feel like I’m going to prom. Simple is better.
She sternly looked at herself in the mirror again.
Not that I’m going.
She let her hair drop, then brought her hands up to undo the zipper, but it was caught.

Oh
, great.

She tried again without success.

Maybe I can get it over my head without unzipping it.

The material fit her too snuggly.

In resignation she opened the dressing-room door and stepped out. Giving in to an inner impish impulse, she walked over to the older woman, who had maintained her health into what looked like her late seventies. She stopped in front of her, turned, and spoke over her shoulder to her. “Do you mind unzipping me?”

The woman’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

Kill them with kindness.
That was her father’s motto—and honestly, sometimes it was fun to do. She pretended not to understand that the older woman found the request distasteful. “The zipper is stuck. Could you give it a little pull?”

“Do I look like I work her
e?” the woman asked in a tone a queen might use in the presence of one of her filthiest subjects.

Then a bit of her no
-nonsense mother came out. Turning around to face the woman, Julia said bluntly, “No. I’ve found the people who work here to be quite pleasant.”

“
Unbelievable. They will let anyone shop here now, won’t they? I’ve never, in all of my life, met anyone so without class.”

With a sweet smile, Julia said, “I have. I heard you talk
ing to the clerk. You know what? I don’t care how much money you have, you shouldn’t treat people that way. She probably makes just over minimum wage plus commission, so she has to kiss your ass, but I don’t. You weren’t nice to her, but you should have been. I feel sorry for you if you can’t see that.”

A slow red spread up the woman’s face.
She opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap.

The clerk returned and
, with a shaking hand, handed a glass to the older woman, who accepted it and said, “Thank you.” A show of manners that seemed to surprise the clerk. Then she said, “You may want to help this young lady out of her dress. She’s trapped.”

The clerk said in a rush, “It’ll only take a moment.”

With an expression Julia couldn’t decipher, the older woman said, “Take your time.”

Julia
returned to the dressing room, followed by the young clerk. Once inside, the woman made quick work of untangling the material that had wedged inside the zipper. Then she met Julia’s eyes in the mirror and said, “I heard what you said to her. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell her off, but I need this job.”

“My father always says that people treat others the way they feel on the insi
de. She can’t be a happy woman.”

From across the
floor, Mrs. Rockport said, “Until just now I had no idea that the dressing rooms were not soundproof.”

Julia and the clerk hunched over in a shared guilty laugh they fought to contain.

The clerk said, in a much softer tone than she’d used before, “She heard us. I am so fired.”

If there was one thing working in her father’s showroom had taught Julia
, it was how to calm a disgruntled customer. “I’ll fix this,” she whispered.

Changing hastily back into her jeans and blouse, Julia squared her shoulders and went to face the woman
, hoping to smooth some ruffled feathers. The clerk would likely spend the rest of the day hiding in the changing room if it didn’t work. She walked directly over to the woman and said, “Don’t be upset with the clerk. This was my fault. My mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes. That was unforgivably rude of me. I apologize.”

Settling somewhat,
Mrs. Rockport said, “Everyone has an off day. I, myself, woke up in a foul mood.”

Julia hid her grin but couldn’t hold her tongue. “It didn’t show at all.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, then let out a bark of a laugh. “You have spunk, don’t you? I was like you when I was younger. Outspoken long before it was fashionable to be so.”

Julia’s face split in a genuine smile. “I can see you as a firecracker.”

“Oh, I was. My father feared I’d never settle down.” She looked wistful as old memories brought a small smile to her face, but the moment was short-lived. “I did, of course. Everyone does.” She sat down as if suddenly tired, then said, “So, tell me about the man you’re buying that dress for.”

“I’m not buying it,” Julia said in a rush. “I could never afford something like that.”

The woman looked her over shrewdly. “So, he’s buying it for you?”

“Maybe,” Julia said and plopped down on the seat next to the
woman who a moment ago had been an adversary. “I shouldn’t let him. Really, if I had any sense, I wouldn’t even see him again.” Without waiting for a response from the older woman, Julia said, “He’s rich and used to getting what he wants. I come from a working-class family. I don’t care which fork is the right one to use at dinner, and he was probably born knowing that sort of thing. All we really have in common is—” Julia stopped and blushed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m sharing this with you.”

Mrs. Rockport
quietly studied her for a moment, then said, “I married my first husband against my father’s wishes. He didn’t come from money. In fact, when I met him he didn’t even have a job. But he had dreams and a smile that could make a foolish decision seem like the only one that made sense.”

Julia turned in her seat. “What happened?”

“We had one magical year, then the Korean War started and he signed up to go. His friends were going and, even though my father would have helped him dodge the draft, he wanted to serve his country.” Her face twisted a bit. “He never came home.”

Julia put her hand on the woman’
s and wiped a tear away with her other. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Mrs. Rockport
patted her hand and recomposed herself. “It was a long time ago. I married again. He was a good man who loved me very much. He died, too, a few years ago.” She took a deep breath. “You can make all the plans you want, but life has a way of turning out however the hell it wants to, no matter what you do. And in the end, all you have are memories.”

Uncharacteristically, Julia was speechless.

The older woman laced her fingers in thought. “Let your man buy you that dress. Give yourself something to smile about when you’re my age.”

Julia blushed and instinctively touched her necklace. Would everything work out the way it was supposed to
, even if she let herself look away long enough to build those memories?

“That’s a beautiful piece you’re wearing,”
Mrs. Rockport said.

Julia smiled. “I
designed it. The gems aren’t real. When I have my own business one day it will have real stones, but for now that’s just a dream.”

“May I?”

Julia nodded and the woman touched it lightly.

“It looks like something my sister would have worn. She loved flowers and diamonds.”

Following an impulse, Julia took the necklace off and put it in the woman’s hand. “I’d like you to have it.”

Mrs. Rockport
tried to hand it back. “I couldn’t possibly.”

Julia pressed it into her hand and said, “More than anything else, I am an artist. And for
me there is no greater pleasure than knowing something I’ve created has touched someone’s heart. If it reminds you of your sister, you should have it. I can make another.”

Clearing her throat
, the woman fingered the necklace gently, then nodded. “I would pay you, of course.”

Julia shook her head. “I wouldn’t take it.”

“You’re an awful businesswoman,” the woman chided gently.

“
Maybe,” Julia said with a rueful smile.

They sat there quietly for a moment, then
Mrs. Rockport asked, “So, are you getting the dress?”

Julia nodded shyly and blushed again.

“Claudia,” the older woman called out to the clerk. “I’m feeling spontaneous today. Please have one of each dress here wrapped and sent to a local charity. Tell Yvonne I want a list of where they went. But make sure you get credit for the sale. Put it on my account.”

After double
-checking she’d heard right, the clerk rushed off to ring up the sale.

“What’s your name?”
Mrs. Rockport asked.

“Julia. Julia
Bennett.”

The woman stood and held out her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss
Bennett. I hope our paths cross again.”

J
ulia couldn’t imagine how they would, but she shook the woman’s hand warmly and said she hoped the same.

Alone in the boutique again, she asked the clerk to box up the dress and held it tightly the entire taxi ride home.

Am I about to create memories I’ll treasure for a lifetime?

Or make a mistake that will haunt me?

And a
re women nearing eighty a reliable source for sexual advice?

Gio watched Julia pour over the menu in a way none of the many women he’d brought here ever had. Food was not why people came to Le Loire, the theater district’s highly exclusive restaurant. They came because reservations were booked more than a year out and merely getting a table meant that you had arrived in some way at the top of New York’s social stratosphere. They came to see and be seen.

A quick look around the dining area revealed a collection of New York’s wealthiest and visiting famous. Gio wasn’t impressed by either, but he knew most women were.

Dressed as she was, Julia blended perfectly with the crowd. He’d caught more than one of his peers eyeing her appreciatively. She wasn’t the first beautiful woman he’d escorted in public. Normally he didn’t care one way or another what others thought of his date, but when he caught one blatant male admirer staring at Julia’s profile from a few tables away, he’d half risen out of his chair without thinking.

To what? Brawl?

The man had met his eyes, read his intent
, and hastily looked away. Gio had let out a long breath and settled back into his seat, surprised by how possessive he already felt about the woman sitting across from him.

“Have you had the
seafood here?” she asked, drawing him back from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”

“The plateau de fruits de mer. I love seafood, but I had this dish once at an expensive restaurant in Rhode Island and it was served with a tiny octopus and whole prawns. Some had eyes. I can’t eat anything that still has eyes.”

“I normally have the
Kobe steak,” he said, somewhat bemused by her level of animation. He’d never seen a woman order anything but a salad—dressing on the side, all possible calories or carbs banished from their meal. “Chef Cazon is excellent. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with whatever you order.”

“You can’t come to a place like this and have steak,” she said with a laugh. “How about this?
I’ll order for you and you order for me.”

“Why?” he asked slowly.

She seemed as confused by his reluctance as he was by her suggestion. “Because it’ll be fun?”

His idea of fun had more to do with what they would do after
dinner, but he decided to humor her. He opened his menu. “What do you like?”

She put down the menu.
“I’m not going to tell you. You have to try to figure it out.”

“I don’t play games,” he said
, more out of habit than from a real desire to end the exchange. He did want to know what she liked, and he intended to spend the rest of night exploring just that. He reached for a glass of water, seeking a calm that he’d more easily achieve by pouring the cool drink on his bulging crotch than by drinking it.
Slow down. No need to rush.