The Cherry Blossoms (9 page)

“No Daniella, I cannot.  Gaspard and I will drive you home.”

She giggled, “That’s probably a wise decision.”

Grant told Gaspard, “Daniella a eu trop de vin.  Je lui ai dit que nous conduirait à son domicile.”

Gaspard
responded, “Je suis prêt à quitter ainsi.”

“J'obtenir la voiture et mettre à la porte.
Pouvez-vous escorter Daniella à la voiture ?  Je crois qu'elle pourrait utiliser un peu d'aide.”

“Il serait mon plaisir Grant.”

“Daniella, I am going to get the car.  Gaspard will bring you out to the car.  I will only be a minute.”

She nodded at Grant, “Merci beaucoup.”

Grant escorted Daniella up the three flights to her apartment while
Gaspard waited in the car.

“Grant
, I had the most wonderful time this evening.  Thank you and please thank Gaspard for me.  I don’t plan to come to work in the morning, so please let everyone know they may take the day off with pay.”

“Daniella, I don’t understand.  Why would you not come to work?”

“I’m going to take the day to tend to my hangover and rethink what we did wrong.”

“Daniella, you did nothing wrong, but I will tell the staff to take the day off to rest after working so hard.”  Grant kissed her on her forehead and told her before he left, “Sleep well.”

The answering machine indicated there were four messages waiting for her.  She stood looking at the red flashing 4, trying to decide whether to play them now or wait until morning.  She hit the play button; waiting until morning wouldn’t change what those messages said.  All four messages were from Michal, asking her to call him.  Daniella deleted them and went to bed.

Chapter Three

Paris, France

Daniella woke the next morning to a throbbing pain in her head.  When she grabbed her head with both hands, her head felt as though her brain had undergone a brain quake.  She felt her gray matter fall into the crevice the quake had created.  The ensuing dust collected in her throat, so she tried to cough to release it from its captivity.

Without sitting up, she grabbed the nightstand clock.  Through her blurred vision, she saw it was telling her that it was just noon.  If she didn’t force herself to get out of bed, she would miss the morning papers.  Daniella stumbled into the bathroom.  When she looked in the mirror, the reflection showed a woman with makeup smeared across her face.  Her red curly hair was a chaos of tangles.   It was likely that the morning editions were sold out, but if there was even one left, she wanted to see it.

After a shower, Daniella pulled on her jeans, a cotton blouse, and a pair of sneakers.  She grabbed a hat from the closet to cover her hair and face.  She rushed down the three flights of stairs and out the apartment house door.  There was a newsstand at the end of the block.  She grabbed the last morning edition written in English, and then dashed back to her apartment clinging to the folded paper.

She laid the paper on the kitchen table while she perked a strong pot of coffee.  When it was ready, Daniella sat at her table to read the reviews of the Spring Fashion Show.  Her hands shook at she turned the pages, but she had to know what the reviewers had written.

The House of
Margueite achieved the highest award of first place. The House of Geneviève took second, and the House of Jocelyn took third.  The writer had verbiage on each House.  She ran her finger through the other houses.  When she found the commentary on the House of Daniella, she wept openly, as if she were crying out in pain.

“It is hard for this reviewer to believe that the House of Daniella earned the opportunity to participate in the Spring Fashion Show.”

She wadded the paper into a ball, tossed it into the sink and burned it.  After throwing her coffee cup at the wall, she went back to bed.  She pulled the covers over her head as if she could ward off the Fashion Show Monsters.  Daniella heard the phone ring several times and someone knocked on her door twice.  She remained in bed wrapped in her cocoon.  In her comatose state she still heard the reviewers chanting at her, “Fat Fanny Danny”.

The room was dark and gloomy when she pushed herself out of bed.  Trudging into the kitchen, she stepped over the broken coffee cup to pour a glass of wine.  Daniella turned the television on.  She sat on the small sofa and watched some late night talk show.  She stared at the screen as if she understood what they were talking about.  When she heard one of the commentators say something about the House of Daniella, she leaned forward, and tried to pick up what they were saying.

“Quel dommage est que la maison de Daniella effectuée, si mal.”

“Je suis d'accord avec vous.  Il s'agissait de son premier spectacle, elle peut revenir l'année prochaine et faire mieux.”

“J'ai lu dans l'édition du matin que l'examinateur trouvé difficile de croire qu'elle s'était qualifié de montrer ses créations.”

What little Daniella gleaned from that televised conversation, the announcers said it was a sinful shame that she even qualified for the biggest show in Paris.  She’d told her staff to hold their heads high last night, while she ran off to hold a pity party.  Hiding in her bed with the covers over her head contradicted what she’d told them.  She turned the television off, cleaned the shattered coffee cup on the kitchen floor, and then she poured another glass of wine. 

Daniella took her seat on the sofa where she held her own commentary, “What the fuck do I care what they said.  We did our best.  I am blessed with a wonderful staff.  Our models performed well.  The truth of the matter is that I’m not French, and that’s the bottom line.  They can all screw themselves.”

Fortified with new self confidence, she listened to her phone messages.  The first was from Michal wanting to know if she wanted to join him in Cannes for a week.  The second was from Grant asking if she were okay.  The last two were Michal.

It was late, but what the hell, he’d left at least seven messages, so she called Michal.  His voice was groggy with sleep when he answered the phone, “Qui est cet appel si tard ?”

“C'est moi, Daniella, vos appels de retour.”

“You are returning my calls in the middle of the night?  Have you been drinking?”

Daniella shrugged her shoulders, “A little.  One of your messages asked if I would join you for a week on the Riviera. 
Is that offer still available?”

“Il est évidemment.  Pourquoi s'appeler vous demander si je ne voulais pas vous joindre à moi ?”

“I thought perhaps that you’d be embarrassed to bring me with you.”

“Why would I be embarrassed to bring you?

“Didn’t you read the reviews this morning?”

“Of course I did.  Reading them is my job.”

“Tell me why you would want to invite me to the Riviera after those horrible reviews?”

She heard him chuckle into the phone.  “Those reviews are business. My invitation is personal.  Daniella, please go to bed; we can speak in the morning after you arrive at work.”

Grant was in the shop’s kitchen making coffee, when Daniella arrived. 
”Good morning Grant.”

“Daniella, I was so worried about you when you did not return my call.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you; I just needed a little time to myself.”

“Vous êtes prêt à retourner au travail Mademoiselle ?”

“Yes I am.  Before the rest of the team arrives, I want to thank you for taking me out with you.  I enjoyed it.  Your friends are delightful.”

“Mademoiselle,
d’état mon plaisir.”

“Grant
, I’d like to talk with everyone this morning for a moment.”

Daniella’s staff entered her office with sheepish looks on their faces.  Daniella laughed.  “I haven’t seen such sorrowful looks in a long time.  It’s important to me that you understand that I failed you.  You didn’t fail me.  I told each of you to hold your heads high at the reception after the show; while I ran off and held a pity party.  It’s likely that I’ve ruined my career.  If that’s the case, I will recommend each of you to the other Design Houses.  Are there any questions?”

Charlene
stepped forward, “Mademoiselle Daniella, ne veut dire vous envisagez de fermer la boutique ?”

“I don’t want to, but I failed terribly in the reviews and I don’t want to put your careers at risk.”

Michele was the next to step forward.  There were tears in her eyes as she addressed the thought of closing the shop.  “Mademoiselle, je ne tiens pas à travailler pour un autre concepteur.  Veuillez revoir votre plan.”

Daniella looked around the room and saw heads nodding in agreement with Michele’s comment for her to reconsider closing the shop.  “It appears to me that everyone is in agreement in moving forward, is that right?”

Grant turned to face the staff of the House of Daniella, “We know that the reviews went poorly, we have each read them; however, this was our first year.  We may not be invited back, but it doesn’t matter to me at this moment.  By a show of hands, who would like to see the House of Daniella remain open?”

Through her tears, she saw that everyone had raised a hand. 
“Merci.  Je vous promets que je serai un meilleur designer et un patron mieux.”

Michele responded to Daniella’s statement,
“Mademoiselle, you are a great designer as well as a wonderful boss.”

Grant remained in the office after the staff left.  “Daniella, have you spoken with Michal yet?”

A child’s giggle escaped from her mouth, “Yes, I called him in the middle of the night.  He said the invitation to join him in the Riviera is still open.  So, I’m going to take a week off and go with him.”

“Mon chéri, c'est une chose merveilleuse, oui ?”

“Or, it could turn out to be the worst idea, I’ve ever had.”

Grant laughed as he left her office; his little world was back on course.

Once onboard the plane, Michal asked Daniella about the faraway look on her face.

“I’m just going through the check list in my head.  It isn’t likely there will be much business this week, so I asked Grant to divide the days, so someone would be in the shop to answer the phones.”

He chuckled and told her, “My love, we are on vacation.  Grant will call if there is a problem.  Have a glass of wine before we take off, so that you can gear your head to vacation mode.”

By the time the plane landed in Cannes, Daniella had transformed from a workaholic to a vacationer.  She giggled as she entered the limousine that would deliver them to the most beautiful hotel she’d ever seen.

“Daniella let us go to the patio for a drink, while the porters take our luggage to the room.”

“Michal, I had four glasses of wine on the flight.  I’m not so sure I should have another drink.”

“
Ah, mon doux, vous êtes en vacances, donc tu n'auras beaucoup un vin que vous choisissez.”

She giggled at his statement that she could have as much wine as she chose. “In that case, you may need to carry me to our room.”

Michal laughed, “I will have one of the porters deliver you to our room on one of the suitcase carriers.”

Giggling
, she told him, “Je sais que vous le feriez.”

“Yes, I would.”

The patio was full of Parisians, laughing, eating and having themselves a grand time.  Michal knew most of them, so after getting her a glass of wine he walked her from table to table introducing her.  Daniella saw several designers on the patio and at one point wanted to turn tail and leave, but she put on a smile and greeted them.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw
Samanta Laroque approaching them.

“Mademoiselle Daniella, je suis heureux de vous voir ici.”
 

I bet you’re pleased as punch to see me here with Michal.
  “Le plaisir est tous le mien, Mademoiselle.”

“Daniella, I was so sorry that your first show did not go well.”

She was not about to be undone by another designer. “Thank you for sharing your sorrow with me.”  Daniella shrugged her shoulders, “I tried something different and it didn’t work, so there is no need for you to pity me.”

“I do not pity you.  Michal has shared with me that you are a very talented designer.  There are many designers who would not have the, let me think how you Americans say it; yes there are many designers who would not have the balls to do what you did.”

“If you believe what you just said, why did you not applaud my collection?”

“Mademoiselle, I did not have the balls to.”

Daniella was dumbstruck when she heard that.

“Daniella, I just wanted to say hello and offer my services if you hire another designer.”

“Aren’t you a designer with the House of Victoria?”

“Yes Mademoiselle, I am.  Since you were there, you know they did not qualify to participate in the Spring Show.”

Daniella’s head was spinning.  The woman who had bedded Michal was asking her for a job.