Page 18 of Love Lessons
I do that, and then I check the group text one more time—the one Neil Drake set up for the Italy trip. This morning I’d let everyone know of our mission.
Vera: Charli and I are hitting a big fashion event in Manhattan. Any requests? Don’t forget that we’re all getting fancy for the opera in Verona.
I’m so excited—we’re seeing Verdi’sLa Traviatain an ancient outdoor arena where spectators have watched live entertainment since Roman times. I couldn’t believe it when Neil had shown me the tickets the other night. My nonna used to hum Verdi while she stirred her sauce in her little kitchen.
There are already a couple replies to my text.
Neil: If you see something I need, grab it.
Sylvie: I have my dress all picked out but I’m kind of on the hunt for a clutch purse with a wrist strap. Black or some other dark color. Sparkles optional but welcome.
Ian: Wait. We have to bring a suit on vacation???
He follows that up with a gif fromHome Alone, all shock and horror.
I don’t know whether to laugh or roll my eyes. He and I couldn’t be more different. Ilovea good reason to put on a dress. I’m good at my job and if he’d let me, I could make that beast of a man look amazing in a suit. Not only could I solve his problems, but I’d enjoy the smug satisfaction of forcing him to admit that I’m a freaking genius.
But it’s not in the cards. He was really clear about not wanting my help. And since I’m still a little intimidated by him, I’m not going to bring it up again.
Probably.
Maybe I have a kink for lost causes. It would honestly explain a lot.
* * *
Forty-five sweaty minutes later,we’ve shopped every corner of the sale. My best finds are two Kate Spade bags—one for Sylvie and one for a client—plus several pairs of Gucci slides in limited edition colors. My Upper East Side clients will snatch them up.
I’m also stocking some Dior lipsticks for Charli’s clients and a few other items I couldn’t leave behind.
Honestly, I had no idea how valuable Charli was as an employee until this morning. There is nobody fiercer at a sample sale. All that hockey training had come in really useful as she’d fended off the woman who’d tried to literally grab a bag out of my hands. Charli had hip-checked her into a wall and practically bared her teeth. And I’d heard her growl at a woman who was reaching for a shoebox we’d already placed in our shopping basket.
I love hockey players. They’re amazing people.
Our last stop is menswear, which always attracts the least attention. You don’t see many men at sample sales. “I’ll guard the loot while you look,” Charli says.
“Good plan.”
I set my basket at her feet and take in the lay of the land.
“Those shirts are fun,” Charli says, pointing at a rack of men’s shirts in colorful patterns.
“Ooh, I love Zegna!” I agree, flipping through the offerings. “Wouldn’t Neil look great in this?” I hold out a shirt with a subtle vine pattern, green on green.
“Yes! That totally shriekssummer vacation. Do they have his size?”
I find it and toss it into her waiting hands. “Five more minutes,” I say. “Then we’ll go and celebrate with lunch.”
“Works for me.” Charli leans against a display of men’s belts and gives an aggressive stare to another woman who’s eyeing our finds.
I’m just about finished browsing when I spot a beautiful shirt. It’s white and steel blue, with a houndstooth pattern woven into the fabric. It would lookamazingon a certain hockey player who’s been asked to upgrade his image.
And it’s only forty dollars, marked down from two hundred.
Forty dollars I can’t really spare. But it’s so beautiful. Egyptian cotton is in a league of its own. And that woven pattern makes it look expensive.
Crikey had asked me not to think of him as a client, but this shirt would make his eyes pop, and I can tell it would fit him. I can size up anybody at a glance. Professional hazard.
The shirt finds its way into my hands. “Okay, Charli—I’m ready to settle up.” I pick up my basket, and we start for the registers.
