A Solitary Romance: Book 1 in the Only Love Series (17 page)

A wave of sadness passed over her as she thought about the solitary Russian and her grandmother who left all she knew behind to escape the revolution.  Did this lady have no one to share the exhibit with?  She resolved to send her two tickets and arrange for Barry to escort her through the museum.

"So, do you have anything to recommend?" Katrina asked. 

She felt a great deal of anxiety regarding the opening.  For the life of her, she didn't know what kind of dress to wear. She wanted to impress the museum's patrons but not compete with the jewels.  She hoped Barry would be proud of her and that others would appreciate her ideas for the displays.

"Sit and wait," Irina commanded before disappearing again.

Fifteen minutes passed before she heard the Russian calling for her from the back hall.  The auditor walked to Irina, nervous but excited to see what she'd found.

Inside the dressing room hung another beautiful gown.  She couldn't tell what it was made of, but the fabric looked otherworldly.  Katrina slipped her dress off while Irina removed the silver costume from its hanger.  As the material moved, it reflected just a hint of ice blue.

"Nineteen fifties Dior," Irina said matter-of-factly.

Another Dior meant another small fortune, but once Kate saw herself in the oval mirror, she didn't care.  Irina fastened the long stream of cloth-covered buttons that ran up the back of the dress while Katrina admired her reflection. 

The platinum, medium-weight fabric with the icy blue undertone fit snugly against her curves.  A deep boat neckline showed off her clavicle bones and barely covered the ends of her shoulders.  A chain of lacy flowers embroidered in matching thread danced across her chest, then reappeared at the hemline, which hit at the knee.  The bodice fanned just below the waist into a bell-shaped skirt, complete with fabric folds and pockets.  Short cap sleeves showed off her delicate arms.

Irina fluffed her hair and pronounced, "Da!" before giving her commands.

"No jewelry, hair down, curled to bounce across here."  The Russian trailed a finger across her shoulder.  "Simple lips, drama eyes.  No more!"

She heard every word, but her mind was far away.  In the mirror, she could see herself in Barry's arms, dancing the night away.  She felt warm and secure.  He held her tighter with each step until she could no longer breathe and flames of passion licked at her body.  Kate looked up to tell him to stop as his features began to move, melt, and change.  His face morphed into that of Robert LaSalla, and she thought she might faint.

"Did you hear me?  Shoes must be two inch heel, silver pump!" Irina ordered, startling Katrina from her vision. 
Is that mirror magic, or are my daydreams getting away from me?

Kate pushed her hands against her bright red cheeks, squishing her face.  Those strange thoughts had brought a blush to her face.  Irina studied her features.

"Sit!" the store owner commanded, pointing to a gold Louis XVI, brocade-covered chair.

She complied, relieved to be off her feet.  Perhaps the dress was too tight.

"You are pretty girl, a bit plain." Irina fluttered her hand before continuing, "Not statuesque or regal, but still attractive.  Your little chin is too sharp and your nose, your nose is too fine.  You are sickly, but your large eyes distract from imperfections.  This gown, it helps, da?"

Only Irina could insult a customer like that and still make a sale.  Katrina managed a nod.  She paid the Russian with her credit card and asked if the lady knew where she could find appropriate shoes.  Smiling, the store owner mentioned a store in West Los Angeles and wrote the address on a card for her.

After lunch at home, Kate found the cobbler recommended by Irina.  Off Robertson Boulevard, in a tiny, hole-in-the-wall establishment, squeezed between two shabby, unused retail spaces, Zabel's Shoe Repairs was easy to miss.  Tinted so dark, the small glass storefront didn't allow passersby to see inside.  Katrina hesitated before pushing the door open.  A brass bell somewhere over her head clanged to announce her entry.

Coming off the street, she had to adjust her eyes to the dim interior.  The place looked straight out of nineteenth-century Europe, complete with a musty smell.  She wondered how often customers intruded here.  Working her way to the back, she noticed a threadbare Abussan rug. Its edges just missed concealing the cement floor.  Shelves stacked with old shoes lined the walls, while a padded bench and footstool sat in the center of the small store.  A counter in back stood in front of a wall covered with wooden cubbyholes.  A doorway to the side of the counter led to a back workroom.  A beam of sunlight from a window to the rear of the shop revealed dust particles floating like stars in the Milky Way.

"Hello? Anyone here?" she called.

"Da," came a voice from the workroom.

A moment later, a tall, elderly man with perfect posture emerged.  He moved like a much younger man, but his gray hair and wrinkles gave away his age.  He smiled at her but said nothing.

"Irina sent me," Kate managed to stammer.

"Da," the man said, nodding as if he already knew that.

"She thought you might have a pair of shoes for me."

"Da," he repeated, moving behind the counter.

The man leaned over and produced a white drawstring bag.  Impossibly spotless in a dirty place like this, the white satin of the shoe bag glowed in the dim light.  It was then that she took note of the apron covering the man's chest, waist, and hips.  Dark smudges covered the coarse material, and she wondered how he kept from soiling the pale sack.  He must have washed his hands before appearing.  The cobbler slid the container open with great care and withdrew one delicate shoe, then the other. 

Katrina's mouth fell open.  The shoes matched her dress perfectly.  How was this possible?  She hadn't even described her gown to the man.  She locked eyes with the tradesman.  His brown eyes twinkled with pleasure at her surprised expression, and his smile contracted the skin around them into countless laugh lines.

"They're perfect.  I'll take them," she said without asking the price.  More sticker shock.

When she got home, she called Kiki and described her experience.

"Oh, I know who that was," the receptionist said.

"Who, the shoe fairy?" she joked.

"Almost.  He makes shoes for the movies.  Costume designers hire him.  He doesn't have a regular clientele other than them.  When Irina gets a dress that needs a special shoe, she lets him know, and he crafts a pair then waits until the customer gets sent over."

"That explains it and the price tag.  I didn't set out to buy a pair of custom shoes today.  Hey, how does he know what size to make?"

"I don’t know.  I guess you just got lucky, Girl.  Hey, are you ready for reviews next week?"

"Yep.  With this Daud deal, I should be getting a nice little raise
and
a great review.  When is yours?  Mine is Wednesday afternoon."

"I go into the lion's den on Thursday," Kiki said with a sigh.

"Oh, you'll be fine.  You do a great job."

"We'll see.  I'm prepared to fight it out if I have to," the receptionist said.

"I'm going to take Thursday off so I can sleep late and then help Barry at the Museum, before the guests arrive."

"Are you getting nervous, Kate?"

"Getting?  I've been nervous since this whole thing started!" Katrina exclaimed.

She laughed and said, "There's no need.  You got this, Girl!  Hey, when do those test results come back?"

The receptionist didn't want to bring the subject up, but couldn't help herself.  She worried about her friend.

"The doctor called me yesterday.  The CAT scan didn't show anything.  He's still waiting on some of the inner ear results.  He said there was the possibility of a tumor."

"What?" Kiki exclaimed in a shrill tone.

"It's not likely, but since he told me that, I have had a hard time getting it off my mind."

Her friend, aware of what killed Kate's mom, was quick to offer reassurances.

"Try not to worry, Honey.  I’m sure you'll get good news next week.  Just focus on your big night and how it's going to change your life.  I'll pop over to see your newest
Dior
tomorrow."

"Yeah, come on by.  I think I'm going to church, so stop in later.  I'm going to pray that God forgives you for getting me to drain my bank account on designer gowns!"

"Ha!  If He doesn't mind you spending on all that jewelry, I don't think He'll hold the dresses against me," the Hawaiian teased.

Chapter 14
-Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend-

After a boring week in the office, Wednesday's arrival meant that the gala drew close.  Katrina had stayed calm so far, which she credited to her attending a service on Sunday.  The minister's sermon spoke right to her heart, and she repeated his theme Scripture throughout the day,
Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you
, from I Peter 5:7.   As a kid, her family attended church every Sunday as a unit.  After her mother died, they'd gradually stopped going.  The last few years, she went to a non-denominational house of worship once in a blue moon.  All that talk of Robert's dad being a man of faith stuck with her, and she decided she should start attending again.

She'd spoken with her boss several times earlier in the week.  She found him polite but distant.  After their time on the beach, she hadn't expected that.  Maybe he was embarrassed by all he'd shared. Her vision in Irina's mirror also stuck with her.  She didn’t know what to make of it. 

By the afternoon, she was eager to get her review over and move on to the gala.  She filled out the required paperwork Monday, listing her accomplishments, her challenges, and what she thought could be improved upon—the same formalities every year.

Papers in hand, she tapped on Robert's door.

"Come in," he replied, his deep voice sending a shudder through her body. 

He greeted her with a smile and kept his eyes on hers, which didn't ease her nerves.  She detected something there, something unpleasant, as his stare drilled holes into her soul.  Katrina placed her forms on his desk and took a seat.  He ignored the papers, making her even more uncomfortable.

Finally, he tilted back in his seat, took up the documents, and perused them nonchalantly.  He flipped through the four sheets, raised one eyebrow, then leaned forward and tossed them onto his desk, as if they were worthless.

She watched as his smile drew into a hard, thin line, his jaw clenched, and his chest muscles rippled, growing taut under his dress shirt.  He leaned back again, putting more distance between them.

"Is there anything you'd like to add, Miss Crimshaw?" he said, indifference in his voice.

His tone shocked Katrina.  He'd treated her in many ways over the months, always erratic but never indifferent.  It cut her to the core.  She searched his eyes for a clue to this change.

"Well?" he prompted.

"No, nothing," she replied, dumbfounded and hurt.

"All right then.  I have a few things to cover.  You list your top accomplishment as the Daud deal.  I think your work left something to be desired there."

Katrina struggled to keep her mouth from gaping open even as he compressed his.  She observed the flint-like set to his square jaw, hard features, and harsh tone.  Still, he maintained body language that shouted,
you aren’t important enough to bother with
.  She felt mortified.

Robert explained.

"Your due diligence on the investment vehicle was adequate.  But adequate isn't good enough at Dodd and Company.  I had to prompt you to dig deeper, but even then, you fell short."

"What do you mean?" she managed to rasp out.  She hated giving him the satisfaction of knowing she felt humiliated.

"You missed the SEC investigation that almost blew the deal.  If you'd discovered that off the bat and addressed it, all the panic would have been avoided.  We're still not sure everything is going to come off," Robert said in a monotone.  He took his time getting the words out, as if she were too stupid to follow his ideas.

Katrina felt tears trying to well in her eyes. 
I must not cry.  I must not cry
.

"Then you asked me to follow up with Morris Greir after you'd been his lead contact.  That wasn't good form either, Ka—" he caught himself and continued, "Miss Crimshaw."

"I'll give you the rest of what you've listed, since I wasn't here to observe you or experience you in action," he said, his monotone growing harsh again.

She felt her head tingle and straightened her backbone.  She would not allow herself to faint in his presence again.  She drew in a deep breath and mustered her strength.  She'd survived her mother's death and her fiancée's cheating.  She could handle Robert LaSalla, she told herself.  The image in Irina's mirror flashed before her as she exhaled, allowing air to rush from her lungs.  She hoped she could handle him, but even as he demeaned her, she still felt his pull.

"Another thing you must work on is your ability to concentrate, Miss Crimshaw."

Stop calling me that!
  She wanted to shout, but instead bit her lip.

"My ability to concentrate," she repeated softly.

"Yes, or rather, your inability.  I cannot have a complete conversation with you without your drifting off into la-la land.  Others have noted your strange behavior as well.  Do you have a physical or mental condition we should be aware of?  I know that petite mal epilepsy displays symptoms similar to yours.  They're called absence seizures.  Could that be your problem?" he demanded.

She found his words particularly cruel, given her recent tests and the fact that she still waited for results from her doctor.  Of course, Robert knew nothing of that.

Katrina made no answer.  She knew if she opened her mouth, she couldn't control what might come out, sobs included.  So she listened, nodded, and tried to keep from shaking, or worse yet, crying. 

The man pushed her paperwork across the desk, within her reach.