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“She’s a good friend. You should invite her to visit.”
“Really?”
“Of course. It’s not like I lack the square footage,” she teases and sets the sketch for the gown on top of the green shimmery fabric. “Are we twinning for the Gatsby party or what?”
“Maybe. When will this party be?”
“I’ll have to speak with Inez, come up with the guest list, and have invitations made. It will be bigger than my usual themed nights. A month? I’ll know more after I talk to Inez about the menu. She’ll need help with the catering, but she will want to remain in charge.”
“No hurry. I was just wondering. It would be nice if Porsha and Gabby could come.”
“Of course, darling. Whatever you want. How about we plan this event together? I was thinking of inviting your mother, if her schedule allows it.”
Mom loves vintage-inspired clothing, particularly the twenties. She called me the other day. I think Gigi had something to do with it. The conversation consisted of small talk, no emotions, no insight to my private life or feelings. Typical for us. We laughed a few times about her miniature poodle, Marseille, and how he ate a snack bag of fire-flavored popcorn. Gerard loves to snack on them and must have dropped a bag on the floor. She found the pantry door open and Marseille’s white furry face covered in red powder. His stomach didn’t react kindly to it, which I was sad about…but not how every time he released his bowels, he made sure to do it in Mom’s closet. She lost a rug, a pair of shoes, and a scarf that she left on the ottoman. Apparently, Marseille pawed it to the floor before dumping on it.
Why she didn’t just close the closet door is beyond me, but I had a good laugh. She and Gerard are about as hands-on with Marseille as she was with me. Only, unlike me, Marseille can’t clean up after himself, so she had to hire a live-in dog nanny. I believe that says it all.
She was happy I had my own pets, though, and even more excited that I was designing again. We ended the call on a good note. That’s all I can hope for with her.
Gigi’s phone chimes with a text.
“Katia is here,” she boasts. “I’ll go greet her and bring her up.”
“Thanks.” I love how excited Gigi gets over my designs.
As soon as she leaves, I walk to the large window that overlooks the front of the house and the ocean. The fog from the morning has lifted and the Pacific glistens in the distance. I use my phone to zoom in and record the ocean.
When I post it to Instagram, I caption it:For you, in case you miss the view.
Then I record myself, particularly my eyes as the sun shines in them.Also for you, in case you miss the view.Like always, I end the recording by blowing a kiss.
It might be silly or wishful thinking, but I believe these videos are a lifeline for Riley, and a reminder that even though he’s gone, he’s not forgotten.
“Miss Nova.” Katia enters the room with bagged clothes on one arm. “I have beautiful things for you.”
“Just Nova, please.” I remind her and greet her with a kiss to each cheek, as is customary for her. “I’m excited to see the suits.”
I’d drawn them when Riley was still here. He wanted to see me in it. I figured I’d take a picture of myself in the cream one and post it later today.
Katia hangs the bags on the clothes bar. “Oh, Ms. Gigi says she’ll be up after she talks with Inez.”
“I figured.” I nod and giggle. This Gatsby event has her on cloud nine.
The outfits she unveils are exquisite. Better than I imagined. The pantsuit, the edgy jeans skirt/overalls, and a mini dress in silk champagne that would be perfect for clubbing.
I decide to adjust the straps to the mini dress, but otherwise nothing else needs to be altered. The suit has two copies, one in the typical model size and one in my size. The other designs are model size as well, but…
“I’m thinking of adding a curvy-girl line so my designs can be viewed on women with a natural body type, similar to mine. What do you think?” I ask Katia.
“It’s a brilliant idea,” she says. “I’ll start on the duplicates at once.” Before she leaves, she stops at the door. “I almost forgot. I found this in my mailbox this morning. It’s addressed to you.” She removes an envelope from her bag. “I can’t imagine why it was in my mailbox.” She shrugs and hands it to me.
My brows pull tight as I think of why that might be. The media did a post that I was working with a local designer after I shared a teaser glimpse of a dress I sketched the other night. It was my first post that wasn’t of the kittens or my face. Some fans replied on a previous post about how I was and what I’d been up to.
After some deliberation, I decided I would reply to nice supportive fans and ignore the rest. Still, I don’t know how anyone would know I’m working with Katia. She signed an NDA, of course.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I smile even as I battle the nerves fluttering in my stomach.
My first thought is hate mail. My second thought is Riley. Did he do this so he wouldn’t be directly connected to me?