Page 18 of Need You
“I was just thinking about you,” she told Karen.
“I’m guessing you saw the news.”
“I did. Congratulations. She’s a great hire. Robert must be paying her an arm and a leg.”
“I’m sorry, Delaney. I was shocked when you guys broke up. But honestly, I was even more surprised when you left the company ... your company.” Under the circumstances she couldn’t have stayed. “I know it’s not any of my business, but isn’t there a way you two can still work together?”
“I’m afraid not.” Delaney was tempted to tell her why, but it was too personal ... too mortifying. “Olivia will be good for the company; she’ll infuse it with fresh ideas.” Because Lord knew Delaney didn’t have any.
“I don’t know.” There was a long pause. “She seems high maintenance, prone to tantrums if she doesn’t get her way.”
That was her reputation, but who knew if it was true?
“We’re all like that,” Delaney said, trying to stay objective. Her differences with Robert had nothing to do with Olivia.
“That’s the thing—you never were. You were a dream to work with, even keeled and open to suggestions. And it was fun when you were here.”
“It’s not fun anymore?” Robert was a lot of things but he wasn’t a tyrant. He believed in creating a good work environment as much as Delaney did.
“It’s not that it isn’t fun, it’s just different,” Karen said. “Sometimes it feels a little too corporate. When you were here it never did.”
“That’s just because the design side was upended when I left. Robert’s always been about the business part of the company, counting beans. It’ll be better when Olivia is there, more balance.” Delaney loved the employees—many who had been there from the beginning—and she would hate to see them unhappy.
“Hopefully . . .” Karen said, though something in her voice sounded doubtful. “So what are you working on? Or is it a big secret?”
If Karen only knew. “I’m still playing with some ideas ... not exactly a secret, but nothing I’m ready to talk about yet.”
“We’re all waiting, knowing it’ll blow us away.”
It would certainly do that. Nothing like a blank sketch pad to set the fashion world on fire.
“Thanks,” Delaney said. “I appreciate your vote of confidence. Don’t be a stranger.” She wished she could lure Karen away to run her company, but at the rate she was going, Delaney wouldn’t have one.
As soon as she got off the phone with Karen, Delaney called her real estate agent in Los Angeles. She wanted to sell the Beverly Hills house. While the huge Mediterranean-style mansion was beautiful, Delaney didn’t need that much square footage. She needed the money more, at least until she got investors, which would be extraordinarily difficult without a line of clothing to show them.
By the end of the day, she’d listed her house but still hadn’t come up with any new designs worth keeping. She quit trying and got ready for book club at Hannah’s house, slipping into a pair of white linen pants and a Delaney Scott navy tee. When the simple cotton shirts first hit the market people went nuts. They were the most slimming tees out there and came in every color of the rainbow. Tying a silk scarf around her neck, she decided to add some chunky jewelry and finished the outfit with a pair of strappy sandals from her summer collection.
She hoped she wasn’t overdressed for the gathering. Shorts, tank tops, and yoga pants were typically the clothing of choice for summers in Glory Junction. In winter, jeans, fleeces, and snow boots. Not exactly Paris or Milan, yet perfectly suited for the recreational, outdoorsy feel of the town.
She applied mascara and lip gloss, grabbed her keys, purse, a bottle of rosé, and headed out. She noticed that Colt wasn’t home yet, unless he’d parked his patrol car in the garage, which she doubted, given his hypervigilance to speedy response times. At least they’d sort of dealt with the parking situation, though Delaney had every intention of using the space when she wanted to. She wouldn’t fool herself into thinking that having a beer with the guy had made them friends, but at least it had been a step toward civility.
Hannah’s home, a charming Victorian that reminded Delaney of a dollhouse, turned out to be closer than she thought. Unlike her street, which had seen a lot of teardowns and rebuilds, Hannah’s block harkened back to the town’s Gold Rush roots with rows of colorful cottages, complete with gingerbread, front porches, and dormer windows.
Delaney parked, stuffed the wine in her purse, and took the brick walkway and stairs up to Hannah’s front porch. Before she could knock, a brunette opened the door.
“Hi, I’m Deb. You must be Delaney.”
Deb ushered her in, took the wine, and pointed Delaney to the living room where a group of five women sat around a coffee table, eating and drinking. Hannah got up to make the introductions and a chorus of voices welcomed Delaney. She found a place on the floor and sat cross legged next to someone named Carrie Jo, who was telling the group about how she was on the third day of a juice cleanse and hadn’t lost a pound.
“I thought Colt talked you out of the cleanse and you two were running together,” Hannah said, and Delaney’s ears perked up, wondering if Carrie Jo was Colt’s girlfriend.
“I read somewhere that only twenty percent of losing weight is due to exercise. The rest is diet,” Carrie Jo said, and sipped her wine, which Delaney doubted was part of the cleanse.
“Carrie Jo’s right,” said another woman. Delaney thought her name was Amanda. “After Leo was born I didn’t lose the weight until I joined Weight Watchers, even working out two hours a day.”
Deb came in, carrying two glasses of wine, and handed one to Delaney.
“You can’t live on juice alone, Carrie Jo.” Hannah refilled her glass from an icy pitcher filled with what looked like lemonade or Tom Collins mix.
