Deconstructed(38)

Though I was livid at the thought of his deception and devastated by the betrayal that had cut me to my very core, I had ignored an issue that should have been addressed. Our marriage bed had long grown cold, and I hadn’t minded it so much. Oh, that didn’t excuse what he’d done. I’d left that door open a crack when I ignored the problem and stopped communicating with my husband. Scott had kicked it open and screwed someone else. Not exactly the best response to our failure to address our issue. Not even close to the best way. I wasn’t responsible for his bad decision, but I was responsible for mine.

I padded back down the stairs to find Julia Kate locking up. “What do you want me to do with Pippa, Mom?”

“You go on to bed. Leave her with me. I have some thank-you notes to catch up on, and I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Pippa slunk toward me, head and tail down in canine apology. Julia Kate gave me a hug and made her way upstairs as I switched on the urn lamp and plumped the couch pillow in the hearth room. Pippa sank down onto her haunches with an elaborate sigh.

I looked down at the dog.

She looked up at me.

“Thank you, Pippa.” I stroked her head and opened the end-table drawer where I kept my thank-you notes.



The next morning as I stood in front of the mirror next to Ruby, looking in awe at the dress she’d made for the gala, I felt that weird clicky feeling you sometimes get when you know something big is about to happen. I had only felt that a few times in my life. Of course, you get it on big days—graduation or when someone slips an engagement ring on your finger. But there are other times when you just know that whatever it is that’s happening, it’s going to change you forever.

That had happened that morning when I’d arrived at Printemps, bleary eyed from a sleepless night on the couch—Pippa had vomited one more time—and heavy because I knew I was about to get my period in a few days, which meant cramps, bloating, and what was possibly a colossal pimple on my chin.

Ruby was rearranging a display up front, and Jade stood behind the checkout desk tapping on her phone. She slid it into her back pocket when she saw me and fastened on a smile. “Morning, Cricket.”

I set a mocha latte on the desk. “Here ya go. Just a little thank-you for holding down the fort while I was under the weather last week.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re better.” Jade was pretty—curvy with a natural Afro and the most interesting eye shadow. Ruby told me that Jade did online makeup tutorials and that her YouTube station had thousands of subscribers. I could see why—her eyelids were a work of art. Today she seemed to have summoned Picasso.

“Yep. All is well,” I lied as I made my way to Ruby, who was clad in red from head to toe. It was a look that was bold and so original that for a moment I stood and stared. Her leggings were shiny, like faux leather. The half boots were suede with a small bow above the stacked heel. The boned bustier topping the ensemble would have made me look twenty pounds heavier, but on Ruby’s frame, it looked amazing. Around her neck she’d tied a red silk handkerchief.

I handed Ruby her weird order—chai latte made with soy milk and no sugar—and raised my eyebrows. “Wow, you’ve really embraced your fashionista. Is that the Christian Lacroix bustier that Maddy Hassell brought in?”

“I paid for it.” Ruby took the offering.

“Ruby, did I accuse you of something?”

Her cheeks pinked. “No. Sorry. I tend to be defensive without coffee.”

“Well, then, you should drink up.” I glanced at my broom-closet office. I had a lot to catch up on, but I felt lollygaggish. Avoidance was a talent of mine. I mean, obviously. “Seriously, you have mad fashion sense. Did you bring the dress you made?”

Ruby positioned a snuff jar at a particular angle and took a slug of her latte. Her cheeks remained pink, and something in her seemed twitchy. I sensed that my response to whatever she’d done with the Givenchy mattered more than she would let on. She finally looked up. “I have it in the kitchen.”

“Oh, good. Grab it and let me see. Oh, better yet, put it on.”

She looked as if she might argue, but then she lifted a shoulder and slipped into the kitchen. I hurried back to my office and dumped my bag and the detective books Julia Kate had dissed. Maybe I would do a fun display with them. I could use the black velvet dress with the bow just above the kick pleat. Oh, and that adorable hat with the net. I could add an antique magnifying glass, maybe some opera glasses. I lived for a theme.

Ruby appeared in the open doorway, and I gasped.

Yes. I literally gasped, which sort of startled my assistant.

The cream-colored top that had once had sleeves (and a stain) had been cut away to create straps. The bodice curved sweetly just below the rise of Ruby’s breasts. Small tucks created a ruche that nipped her waist. The skirt was black satin that flared out in a sporty peplum before hugging her thighs. At the knee, the skirt opened with a fanned kick pleat. The inside of the skirt was lined with raspberry satin and ended right at Ruby’s ankle. Around her trim waist she’d fashioned a floppy bow out of the raspberry satin. The effect was glamorous, vintage, and somehow very modern. If she’d been on Project Runway, they would have said it was a safe design, but Ruby lived in the real world and knew what suited a woman.

“That’s amazing,” I said, standing and taking her by the hand. Ruby pulled back and made a face. But I tugged her along nonetheless. “Come on. I want to see it in the three-sided mirror.”