Fashionista (6 page)

Hugo was considering cancelling his dinner date. He knew he could blame it on the weather and the woman would eagerly accept that excuse and not blame the cancellation on disinterest. Most women Hugo dated tended to overlook his character flaws for a long time before they finally got the message or got fed up.

There were always other women. Few of them held his interest for long.

“
Why don
’
t you just go to prostitutes and not even pretend?
”
Bailey had asked him once.

“
What and admit I don
’
t believe in true love?
”
he
’
d countered. He was only half kidding. His father was a romantic, always falling in and out of love, and his penchant for indulging his fancies had cost him his marriage. Hugo wasn
’
t interested in derailing his life in exchange for companionship.
“
I have you,
”
he
’
d said to Bailey.

“
Hugo Prince, last of the romantics,
”
she
’
d said.

It was cold-blooded, Hugo knew, but if he cancelled his date tonight, he could start the process of disentangling himself from his latest relationship, begin the long, slow uncoupling. Most of the time he ended his alliances before Christmas, thus saving himself the need to gift his current beloved with a lavish present, a practice Bailey found appalling.

“
What are you in high school?
”
she
’
d asked when he showed up solo at one of her Christmas parties.

Bailey was a lot like his father when it came to meddling in his love life. One year she
’
d come up with the idea of sponsoring a
“
win a date with a Prince,
”
for one of her charity events, and when he
’
d flat-out refused, she
’
d asked John Morgan to do the honors. He had thoroughly enjoyed his encounter with the stylish realtor who had outbid everyone for the pleasure of his company, and they
’
d enjoyed a few pleasant months together. Hugo knew that if he didn
’
t have a date for the Bleeding Heart Ball, Bailey would dig one up. She seemed to have an inexhaustible supply

“
I hate that stupid ball,
”
he had told Bailey more than once, despite knowing that she loved the event she
’
d turned into one of Chicago
’
s premiere social occasions.

“
No you don
’
t,
”
she always said.
“
And if you didn
’
t go, you would disappoint all the pretty girls who want to dance with the handsome Prince.
”

“
Noblesse oblige? That
’
s all you
’
ve got?
”
he asked.
“
Really not that compelling an argument for putting on a monkey suit. Can
’
t I just write a check?
”

“
What else are you going to do on Valentine
’
s Day?
”
she asked,
“
stay home in your man cave and surf porn while eating junk food?
”

“
I do not eat junk food,
”
he said, offended.

Trying to get his head back to business, Hugo pulled up the preliminary year-end sales figures one more time. As before, the Tokyo numbers were still coming in low. He wondered how much that had to do with the customs problems he
’
d been having. He wondered if Grace was back from her lunch yet. He should call and remind her that he needed someone to look into it, if not her, than Iain, the firm
’
s new international guy. But he didn
’
t know Iain and he trusted Grace.

He called her but got voice mail. Restless, he went in search of Bailey, but she was still closeted in with his father, no doubt pitching him her Cinderella Contest scheme. It was a good sign that his father was still in the office past three. Half the time these days, he would wander in, stay just long enough to create some chaos and then leave. Hugo had asked him why he didn
’
t just work out of the office if he wanted to.

“
I
’
m retired,
”
he
’
d said.

People who are retired don
’
t hang around their offices and make their sons crazy when they try to run a business their own way
, Hugo thought, but he
’
d held his tongue. He knew his father was like him, with few interests outside the business and even fewer friends. His father got lonely, especially on holidays.

This year had been particularly bad.

“
Your mother and her new consort have invited me over,
”
he
’
d told Hugo.
“
No doubt they wish to pass me off as the eccentric uncle at the family table, the poor singleton sod who has nowhere else to go.
”

Whenever John Morgan talked about his ex-wife, he started using Briticisms.

“
I
’
m sure they just wanted your company,
”
Hugo had said, annoyed by his mother
’
s complete cluelessness.

“
No, you know her,
”
Hugo
’
s father had said.
“
She wants to rub my nose in her happiness, like I
’
m a puppy who should be punished for messing all over her rug.
”

There had been nothing Hugo could say to that.

Hugo had spent Christmas Eve day with his mother and her new husband, a decent guy who had made his money in tech and gotten out before the bubble burst. Since then he
’
d been indulging in his passion for genealogy and dragging Hugo
’
s mother around Europe rubbing gravestones. She seemed to enjoy it.

Hugo had spent the evening with his father, pretending to enjoy the brandy and cigars that were his father
’
s favorite vices and his only celebration of the holiday season. He found himself wondering what Allegra had done for Christmas. And that reminded him of the last time he
’
d seen her.

Julia had brought him to the Zangari home for what she called,
“
the full-blown Feast of Seven Fishes.
”
It was an Italian thing, she
’
d explained, and he
’
d been amazed by the quantity and quality of the food, which Mariella had had catered because her idea of cooking was microwaving a Lean Cuisine.

The table had been crowded with relatives and friends. Julia
’
s grandfather Dom had still been alive then and he
’
d been full of warmth and hospitality and really bad jokes. Enzo had been like a sitcom dad, treating Hugo as if he was already part of the family and the son he
’
d always wanted. After dinner there had been presents for everyone, even him. He
’
d been embarrassed not to have brought presents for the Zangari family, but everyone had been gracious and assured him that his presence was present enough.

And then there had been Allegra. He
’
d been seated directly across from her and she
’
d stared at him all night with those blue-gray eyes of hers. He remembered thinking that she must have inherited those beautiful eyes from her mother because Enzo
’
s side of the family all had eyes as dark as olives.

Allegra had had a glass of wine at her place setting, and when she noticed he was looking at her, she had drained the wine in a gulp. He
’
d thought it was sweet. Julia had told him Allegra had a crush on him and he
’
d been flattered.

Later in the meal
—
about five fishes in
—
he
’
d noticed that someone had refilled Allegra
’
s glass because she was drinking again.

Still later, as Julia was fetching their coats from the bedroom where they were piled on a bed, Allegra had come up to him in the entry hall.

“
You
’
re standing under mistletoe,
”
she
’
d observed, and then she
’
d thrown her arms around him and kissed him on the lips, standing on her tiptoes and pulling his head toward her because he was so much taller.

He
’
d been surprised at first, but then he
’
d kissed her back, probing with his tongue and tasting the red wine on hers.

He could tell Allegra had been kissed before but not like that.

She was breathing hard when they broke apart and the expression on her face was so open and hopeful that Hugo realized he really, really shouldn
’
t have kissed his girlfriend
’
s little sister.
“
Allegra,
”
he
’
d said and then words had failed him and he
’
d kissed her again.

And of course, Julia had seen that.
“
You little slut!
”
she
’
d said in a venomous whisper as she came into the hall.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
Allegra had said as she fled in humiliation.

“
Jules, come on
”
Hugo had said.
“
She just had a little bit too much wine.
”

Julia had turned on him then and the look on her face almost made him recoil.
“
She puts on that sweet little act,
”
she said,
“
but you don
’
t know what she
’
s really like.
”
And then, as if a switch had been flipped, Julia
’
s expression had lightened.
“
Are you ready to go?
”
she asked. They
’
d gone back to Hugo
’
s apartment and she
’
d practically pounced on him. Hugo enjoyed the sex, as he always did, but he couldn
’
t quite get the picture of Allegra out of his mind. Nor could he forget how twisted with malice Julia
’
s face had been. He had the feeling he was seeing something that no one was ever meant to see. And though he tried to forget it, that image lingered too. Julia had eventually dumped him after meeting a Chicago Bulls forward.
“
He knows how to satisfy a woman,
”
she
’
d told Hugo in their last argument. He
’
d almost laughed when she said that because it sounded so melodramatic, but then she
’
d added,
“
And he
’
s got a lot more money than you.
”
The idea that she
’
d just been with him for his money hurt Hugo. Since then he
’
d been careful not to get too close enough to anyone to let them hurt him again. He was fine with superficial encounters. He told himself he got bored easily.

Screw the Bleeding Heart Ball,
Hugo said to himself, pulling out his cell phone and beginning to dial.

It was below freezing in the storage unit, so cold Allegra could see her breath.

What was I thinking
? she wondered as she sorted through the plastic bins looking for her mother
’
s crocodile-skin boots.

She saw something brown through the side of one translucent storage container but when she removed the lid, instead of what she was looking for, she found the prototype of the first shoe she
’
d ever designed, a pair of flats with an upper that was made to look like lace. She
’
d asked Gary Wisnicki to make the lace with the shop
’
s laser cutter and she
’
d glued it to a wooden sole. Her father had been delighted by it and praised her creativity lavishly, withholding comment on her actual craft.

Mariella, though, had been utterly dismissive, telling her it looked like something made out of raggedy scraps. Allegra had tried not to mind but she was still young enough that her feelings were hurt. She didn
’
t tell her father, though.

“
I think it
’
s pretty,
”
Sina had said to her at the time.
“
The lace kind of looks like snowflakes for feet.
”

“
Thank you Sina.
”

“
I like snowflakes,
”
she had said.
“
Want to see?
”

And Sina had pulled out her sketchbook and shown Allegra page after page of gloriously fancy snowflake drawings

“
These are really beautiful,
”
Allegra had said.
“
They look like something a Snow Queen would wear.
”

Sina
’
s face had lighted up. But then she had shut down again.

“
Mama says if I want to draw something, I should draw shoes.
”

That sounds like something she would say
, Allegra thought, hating her stepmother then.

But Mariella
’
s comment gave her an inspiration. She looked at her sister
’
s drawing again.
“
Do you know what you
’
ve just designed here?
”

Sina shook her head.
“
A buckle.
”
Allegra said.
“
A beautiful piece of jewelry to put on a shoe.
”

“
Really?
”
Sina looked skeptical for a moment and then she turned the drawing on its side and inspected it. As she did, her face broke out into a smile.

“
You know what?
”
Allegra said.
“
This would look great on a Christmas shoe.
”
She grabbed a pencil from Sina
’
s desk.
“
Do you mind?
”
she asked, her hands poised over Sina
’
s sketchbook.

“
No,
”
Sina said and leaned forward eagerly to see what her sister was going to draw.

With deft strokes Allegra sketched a shoe around one of the snowflakes.
“
What do you think?
”
she asked.
“
Can you imagine this in watered silk, a pale, pale ice blue?
”

Sina didn
’
t know what watered silk was, but blue was her favorite color. She nodded eagerly.

“
And look here,
”
Allegra said.
“
What if we swoosh the fabric and gather it with your buckle? Made out of crystal and rhinestone beads.
”

“
We could use milky aquamarine,
”
Sina said,
“
to pick up the blue. And silver gray crystals.
”

“
You know your gems,
”
Allegra had said.

“
I like sparkly stuff,
”
Sina had said.

And that had been their first collaboration. They
’
d shaped the shoe the traditional Zangari way, using the shoemaker
’
s last that was shaped to Ginevra
’
s foot. The result had been a little amateurish but Enzo had been so pleased that he had put the shoe on top of the Christmas tree that year. It had fit right in with the collection of shoe ornaments Allegra
’
s mother had collected over the years.

Mariella had been quietly furious. She treated Sina like a traitor for being nice to Allegra and had harped on her unmercifully for eating Christmas cookies instead of sticking to her diet. Sina had meekly capitulated to her mother and in her presence, acted as if Allegra didn
’
t exist.

“
Please don
’
t be mad at me,
”
she
’
d said to Allegra.
“
I just don
’
t want mama to be mean to me.
”

Allegra had hugged Sina and told her she didn
’
t mind.

Allegra packed the little leather shoe back in its box and reached for another container.

“
It
’
s in the box to your right,
”
Ginevra said, startling Allegra so much she nearly fell off the stepladder.

“
You
’
re so jumpy lately,
”
Ginevra observed.
“
Are you getting enough sleep?
”

“
I
’
m fine,
”
Allegra said.
“
Which box?

“
The one with the red label.
”

How do you know that
? Allegra wondered and was not surprised when her great-grandmother answered the unspoken thought.

“
I was here when your father packed the shoes away.
”

Allegra found the box and tugged out the boots, which were stored with half a dozen other pairs of ankle boots in a rainbow array of colors. The croc-skin ones looked brand new.

“
I don
’
t think she ever wore these,
”
Allegra said, wondering how it was that she remembered them if her mother hadn
’
t worn them.

Ginevra eyed the crocodile-skin boots critically.
“
Probably not. Those are pretty, but they would never have stood up to a Chicago winter.
”

“
I know,
”
Allegra said.
“
But aren
’
t the lines beautiful?
”

Ginevra smiled.
“
Giuseppe used to say that a beautiful shoe was like a beautiful woman. And that a beautiful shoe could make a woman beautiful.
”

“
And that
’
s why all Zangari shoes are first made for you,
”
Allegra said, because she
’
d heard the story many times before.
“
Because there was no woman more beautiful for him than you.
”

“
Exactly,
”
Ginevra said.

Allegra had once asked Ginevra why she had not joined Giuseppe, wherever he was in the afterlife.
“
I
’
m still needed here,
”
she
’
d said. Allegra had accepted that and folded it into the lessons she
’
d learned in church, and all in all, Allegra was used to having the old lady around, even if her appearances still unnerved her a little bit.

“
I was thinking about rubber,
”
Allegra said, just to hear Ginevra
’
s horrified reaction.
“
Wouldn
’
t this boot look nice in rubber?
”

“
Rubber?
”
Ginevra shrieked and then laughed heartily.
“
Rubber boots are for children.
”