designer.” Mia plucked one of Josie’s consignment wedding gowns from the rack and held it in front of her.
“Adriana Taylor has fired more than a dozen designers.” Josie crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the dress Mia held. If she removed the long sleeves, added a deep side split and sweeping train, she’d transform the gown. Lace appliqués and a sheer back would upscale it. Was that fashion-forward or fashion-yesterday? A bride would likely alter Josie’s vision. It was better to let the bride decide on the modifications, using the original vintage gown as the base. “That isn’t a surprise about Adriana.”
Mia stuck the dress on the crowded rack and faced Josie. “Will you be surprised when I tell you that you are going to be Adriana Taylor’s new wedding-gown designer?”
Josie finally understood the purpose of the antique fainting couch. A burst of joy shook her, but just as quickly, fear frayed her excitement. What if she wasn’t…? “Me?”
Josie could hardly tame a pair of four-year-olds. How was she supposed to handle Adriana Taylor, rumored to be one of the city’s leading bridezillas? Word had spread through the fashion industry about the Taylor sibling, reaching even Josie’s small-time boutique.
“Yes. You.” Enthusiasm infused Mia’s movements and voice. “Theo Taylor’s assistant is going to call you to confirm a time this week for you to show the Taylors your designs.”
“This week.” Doubt and unease soaked through Josie’s words.
“I don’t know your schedule so I couldn’t just set up the appointment.” Mia twisted her long hair into a bun and fastened it with a jeweled clip Josie had created. The only original thing Josie had created in the past six months.
Anytime this week was too soon. Josie lacked inspiration. The last few months she’d been upscaling used wedding gowns for budget-strained brides, not creating her own fashions. She doubted Theo’s sister wanted a used gown, however updated it was. “Why do the Taylors want me?”
“Because I told them you’re the best designer in the city.” Mia looked herself over in the floor-to-ceiling mirror and grinned at Josie.
Josie absorbed her friend’s compliment like a cat curled in the sunshine, grateful Mia believed in her. If only Mia’s confidence could chase away Josie’s uncertainty. “That was kind.”
“And the truth,” Mia said. “You’re up for this, right? You know what this means?”
She could pay next month’s rent on time, and the month after that. Launch her custom dress-making business rather than suffocating one alteration at a time. “I’m stunned. I’m still processing.”
“Well, process faster. If you design an original gown for Adriana, I get to shoot the June wedding edition, cover to cover.” Mia swung around to face her. “And you’ll get billing and your own spread in the issue.”
“That’s…” Josie faltered. If she failed, she’d let down Mia, too. Her friend—one of her only friends. How would Josie ever forgive herself? How would Mia ever forgive her? Josie touched her forehead as if that would stop the sudden spinning.
“Incredible. I can’t wait to tell Wyatt.” Mia pumped her fists. “This can launch your business and mine to the next level.”
Josie wanted the next level. Needed the next level. Now wasn’t the time to discover a sudden fear of heights. Still, worry swept through her and her stomach swayed.
“And you can come with me to the Coast to Coast Living holiday gala,” Mia said. “It’s the networking event of the year.”
Josie concentrated on Mia’s composed voice and optimism to counterbalance her own fear. The Coast to Coast Living holiday gala was one of the premier events in the city. The Taylor family invited every vendor, retailer and contractor who’d helped make their global magazine and lifestyle brand a success. Invitations were coveted. Opportunities to meet other business leaders were exceptional. That disquiet slowly returned.
There are no shortcuts to success, Josie. And the climb isn’t always comfortable, either.
Wise words from Mimi. Josie had pricked her finger on a needle during their sewing lessons. A glittery Band-Aid, sugar cookies and a trip to the fabric store had righted Josie’s world and convinced her she’d master sewing, the same as Mimi.
Josie poked a stray pin into the mouse pincushion on the side table and popped the doubt bubble inside her. “Looks like I need to start designing a wedding gown.”
“Any chance you could design dresses for us, too?” Mia swept her hands over her waist as if she was wearing a formal ball gown, not jeans and a sweater. “We could arrive at the gala in Josie Beck originals and be walking billboards of your work.”
Josie had chosen her studio apartment for the unexpected large walk-in closet—a closet she’d filled with clothes she’d designed and sewn between shifts and many sleepless nights the past few years. Dresses, pants, jackets—all designed for a specific occasion and yet never worn. Josie hadn’t actually been invited to any of those special events.
Until now.
So far, she’d created her clothes for her own joy. Every hand stitch, every embroidered thread, every hand-dyed fabric made those hours between midnight and sunrise a little less lonely. “I need to concentrate on the wedding dress first.”
“That wasn’t a no. I’ll take it.” Mia gave Josie a quick and easy hug. “This is ranking up there to be one of the best days ever.”
Josie had to find inspiration and fast. Or this would become one of her worst moments ever.
“I’M ALL BOOKED UP, Mr. Taylor, until next fall. Best of luck to you.” The dial tone ended Theo’s conversation.
His prior conversations had circled around variations of the same theme.
Oh, this is for Adriana? I just noticed there’s a conflict on the schedule.
Even for that price, Mr. Taylor, I cannot find more hours in the work week. And I would need infinite hours to meet Adriana’s exacting standards.
I fear Adriana and I would clash, Mr. Taylor. Our aesthetics do not align, as it were. That can be very unpleasant.
Each phone call had been a dead end. Each one an unavailable wedding-dress designer. That totaled nine well-established designers unavailable or unwilling to work with Adriana. Theo was two hours into his workday and already things were descending into the discouraging and disappointing column.
If the designers on both coasts knew about Adriana’s reputation as difficult and micromanaging, then the TV producers likely knew, too.
A city bus shuddered to a stop on the street corner behind Theo. The gasping squeal of the brakes ratcheted his headache to another level. Theo’s phone rang. “Fran, tell me you found someone.”
Fran’s bluntness cut through the speaker. “No available dress designers.”
