The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (51 page)

"Fine. I'm the keynote speaker at a conference in April."

Adriana nodded. Cassie had found some balance between work and family. She knew she couldn't do the same. She folded her arms, feeling out of place in the domestic scene, a reminder of her private failures. "I'm not like you, and Eric isn't Drake."

Cassie sniffed. "Thank God, the world could only take one pair of us." She stopped being flippant, sensing Adriana's unhappiness. "Laurence is still a ghost, isn't he?"

"I haven't thought about him for a long time."

"And Nina?"

"She's happy with her father. That's the way we planned it. Eric has nothing to do with them."

"You like him and you want this to work. That's why you're all nutty."

"I am not nutty."

"Adriana, if Eric didn't mean anything to you, you wouldn't be here. You would have let things take their course."

"I find him intriguing. I don't like him."

"He's a nice guy." She winked. "Even though his brother is cuter."

"He's cute," she defended. "In a mathematical nerd sort of way," she added when Cassie sent her a knowing look.

"I have a suggestion."

"What?"

"Indulge your curiosity. I think dating intelligent men is stimulating. You prefer life-size pincushions. Try and prove me wrong."

A challenge. That sounded good. A nice healthy excuse to indulge herself. "You've got yourself a deal." She glanced at her watch. "Let me go. I'll show myself out."

"I'll call you later." Cassie watched her friend leave the room and then smiled down at her daughter, who tried to eat her fist. "You know what, Ericka? I think Auntie Adriana is falling in love."

* * *

Adriana stared at the piece of string and cloth.

"What the hell is it?" Sya Chen, her store manager, asked. Her straight black hair was braided back and entwined in silver string. She wore a long turquoise skirt and a black and white swirl top.

They sat in the back office of Adriana's lingerie store Divine Notions. They looked over the work of a young designer seeking a place to sell her work. Right now the young woman was putting more money in her parking meter, giving them some time for an honest evaluation.

Adriana drummed her fingers. "It looks like a pastie."

"A what?"

"You know, those things you attach to your nipples."

Sya wrinkled her nose in distaste. "What kind of store does she think this is?"

They scanned the selection of full body garters and see-through pajamas.

"You have to admit she's creative," Adriana said.

Sya held up the item. "But
what
is it?"

"Heaven knows."

"Heaven would probably reject it."

They heard the bell from the front door. Soon the young woman came into the room. Her name was Mandy Wilton. She had deep-set eyes, dyed brown hair with black roots, and a heavyset build, drowning in a large muddy dress. Her mousy appearance contrasted dramatically with her designs.

Adriana smiled gently as the young woman took a seat. "You have worked hard."

Her face fell. "You hate them, don't you? I knew you would. Nobody can understand my vision. My freedom of form."

"I didn't say I didn't like them."

Sya held up the string and cloth. "How does someone wear this?"

Mandy demonstrated on a mannequin.

Adriana winced. Sya caught her eye and mouthed, "No."

"My idea is that a woman's body should be celebrated, not covered up," Mandy said. "Clothing should be fun and daring."

Adriana nodded. "Yes, but at Diving Notions we have a more conservative view of a woman's sexuality."

Sya crossed her legs. "You'd do better at a porn shop."

"They're not called porn shops," Adriana said quickly, shooting Sya a warning look. "More like specialty adult stores. I think you would have a more receptive audience there. Try Palace Pleasures. I know the owner there. Tell him you spoke to me."

Mandy looked hopeful. "So you do like them?"

"It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, you must believe in your product. Believe it is something consumers need."

"I do."

"Then sell it."

"Thanks." She gathered up her things.

Sya smiled once Mandy closed the door. "I admire your tact. Think Limond will take her?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to be the one to give her the final no."

Sya pushed the mannequins against the wall. "Rita came by. She wants to discuss the details of the fashion show with you. We were so lucky to reserve the
ballroom at the
Montgomery Hotel for Valentine's Day weekend."

"It was destiny." The proceeds from the show would help a women's center.

"It's going to be a big night for you too. Are you really going to show your designs?"

Adriana rested her chin in her hand. "I'm not sure."

"You're more talented than that weird little mouse that came in here. You have to be confident."

"I know. It's coming." However, exposing her dream of being a lingerie designer was scary. She felt ridiculous having such a dream. She came from a family in medicine. It was bad enough being in a business that marketed underwear.

Her love of design had begun on a college internship to France where for four months she worked with a design firm. She was able to see how the company worked, which designs were used, and what ideas were launched. But then she came home and got married and began a proper career as a merchandiser at an upscale boutique.

She pushed her past out of her thoughts and entered the main store.

Two girls about fourteen entered. A girl with messy red curls and a short build gripped the arm of a gangly girl with dull blond hair and a quiet demeanor.

"She wants to buy some pretty things," Curls said.

Adriana came up to them. "You came to the right place."

"She has a date."

Adriana paused, looking at the young girl and wondering just what she meant by "date."

"I hope you don't expect this young man to see your... pretty things."

"Oh no," Curls replied. "It's to give her confidence. That's what my mother taught me. Feel good underneath, feel good all over."

Adriana nodded. "That's true." She turned to the other girl. "So how would you like to feel?"

She shrugged, her eyes downcast.

Curls spoke up. "Something simple to begin with. She's going out with Nathan Cumbers. He's a real nobody, but at least he's a boy."

Adriana glanced at the other girl and saw a blush spread on her cheeks. Nathan was anything but a nobody to her. Adriana knew it was best to separate the two, in order to give the other girl a chance to speak. "Why don't you look around while I help your friend?"

"I'm here to help her too," she protested.

Sya came up to them. "Then let me show you some of our best-selling items."

Curls hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay."

Once Curls was gone, Adriana was able to discover the girl's name was Helen. Adriana noticed that she was getting the dreaded "four breasts" because she was wearing the wrong-sized bra—one of her mother's. She instructed her on how to figure out her size, then helped her select a comfortable and cute pink satin bra and panty set. Helen offered her a shy smile as she bought her purchase and then both girls left.

"God, I hope I wasn't that opinionated as a kid," Sya said.

"I think she's an original. I just hope they're not double-dating."

The rest of the day went smoothly. Adriana checked with her Web site manager, went to her other store and addressed the shoplifting issue, then researched advertising opportunities. She returned to Divine Notions at closing. She was locking the register while Sya checked the back when the front bell chimed. A black man dressed in a knit cap and ski sunglasses entered the store carrying a portfolio.

"Is it that cold outside?" Sya asked.

He pushed the glasses to his head. "I just like the look."

"Hi, Keith," Adriana said. They had tried the boyfriend, girlfriend thing but it had not worked out. They had met four months ago at a small gallery and instantly liked each other. He was a new artist and she saw him as a protégé. He rested his portfolio on the counter and unzipped it. He was medium height with quick, smooth movements, a goatee, and brown hair with blond highlights, complementing his fair skin.

"I've got some work. You'd be crazy not to love it," he said.

Sya frowned. "I thought artists were supposed to be self-effacing. Are arrogance and big egos the new trend?"

"It's not ego, it's genius. I can't wait around for people to recognize it."

Sya rolled her eyes; Adriana smiled.

She liked his freedom, his daring to do what he wanted in the face of convention. She didn't understand most of his works and wouldn't hang them on the wall, but she could imagine with the right exposure he could make the living he desperately needed. She was glad he was moving away from expressionism to abstract. She liked his abstract the best—a story or vision she could understand. The side of a face, the impression of a sunset created with bold shades of red, yellow, and orange bursting from the page. She felt a sense of accomplishment that she had helped him to bring forth his talent.

"It's wonderful," she said. "You've been working hard."

"You're impressed?" It was more statement than question.

"Yes. I always am." She closed the portfolio.

He slipped his glasses to the end of his nose and gazed up at her. "So impressed that you'll loan me some money for new oils?"

Her enthusiasm faltered. "I'm on a budget."

He pushed the glasses up. "Just two hundred."

"I don't know."

"This is my chance. I'm getting really good reviews and comments about my work." He lowered his voice. "Sartan is definitely interested in looking at more work." He owned a small gallery. "You know that once I make it I'll pay you back twofold."

She picked up her handbag. She wanted to be the support she'd never had. "All right." She quickly wrote a check and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He kissed her on the cheek and left.

Sya put on her coat and pulled on a hat. "I don't trust him."

"Why not? All artists are a little off-the-wall."

"Maybe, but I thought his name was Keith Trenton."

"It is."

"Then why did he sign a painting KSY?"

"Are you sure?"

"Unless he can't write."

She hadn't noticed that. "I'm sure there's a reason." Sya opened the door and glanced over her shoulder. "There's always a reason. Let's just hope it's a good one."

* * *

Sya's comment echoed in her thoughts on her way home. She didn't get the sense that Keith wasn't genuine, yet the fact he hadn't told her about his signature was worrying. She pushed the thought aside as she entered her building. Her home was her refuge. She'd leave the events of the day outside.

She dug into her handbag for her keys as she turned the corner to her apartment.

"Hello, Addie," a familiar male voice greeted.

She dropped her keys and stared at the man and child standing on her welcome mat.

Chapter 6

Icy brown eyes pierced him like a stake. He had known Eric Henson for over fifteen years and still couldn't meet his gaze head-on. He glanced at him, then the wall behind him.

"Ten thousand," Henson repeated. "Are you in trouble?"

Carter felt drops of sweat gather on his upper lip. "How could I be in trouble with just ten thousand dollars? I thought I explained it to you. My business is going great, the investors are patting me on the back. I am just waiting for a deal to come through. My lawyer is negotiating the contract, so that's holding things up. I just need a loan."

"You try a bank?"

"I thought I would try a friend first." He inwardly winced. He knew Henson never bought sentimentality crap. He didn't now. His eyes hardened. Carter said quickly, "You can trust me and I can trust you. No hidden agendas, that's why I came."

"I see." He clasped his hands together. "How's Serena?"

His wife was blissfully ignorant and he meant to keep her that way. All he needed was Henson's money to buy him time, and then he could fix everything. And cover his lies with some truths. "Fine. She's doing well." Spending his money like it was a hobby. He hated catalogues and the damn Internet. He never said anything though—never could.

She felt she had married a loser anyway and he didn't need to give her ammunition. He had taken money from the family fund, a savings her family had trusted her to look after, and used it on a high-risk investment. It had promised to make him rich. Unfortunately, the bottom fell out, crashing on his head.

Her family was going to check the fund in five months and the missing money would certainly be noticed. If only the investment had gone through. His ideas always seemed great in the beginning but failed in application. This risk had been his worst. He was a gambler with an addict's luck. Win big once, doomed for life.

He folded his arms to hide his trembling fingers. He was glad he didn't blush. As white as he was, that would be a definite handicap. He was fortunate he had honest green eyes and a handsome face that had kept him out of trouble for years. He looked at Henson, silently begging him for a check, his nerves as taut as a heroin addict's at the mercy of his dealer.