Ciao (8 page)

“So … if we see Eliza tomorrow,” I begin cautiously, “how are you going to act?”

She makes that mischievous little smile. “I’m not sure.”

“I thought you had some kind of plan.”

She shrugs. “Maybe … maybe not. I think I’ll just see how it plays out.”

“And maybe she won’t even be there,” I say hopefully. “Maybe not.”

Before long, the suits are steamed, and while I’m taking a shower Paige goes to bed. I set the alarm for eight, which is about when Luis is supposed to get here, and go to bed too. I feel slightly apprehensive about tomorrow’s interview with Rhiannon. I’m hoping perhaps Eliza will make herself scarce. It would seem the wise route to take, considering.

But, just in case she doesn’t, I decide to pray specifically. I ask God to help Paige not to do anything regrettable. I ask
God to help my mom do her job to the best of her ability. And then I ask God to use me as a buffer if needed. I hope I’m dead wrong, but I believe that tomorrow has the potential to go totally sideways on all of us.

Despite the heat radiating from the pavement
of the city, which never cooled off last night, Paige seems cool and calm as we get into the town car. She seems not to have a care in the world as we ride to Rhiannon’s design studio.

“You girls both look lovely,” Mom tells us as we get out of the car. Paige smoothes the front of her skirt, which didn’t even wrinkle, unlike mine. How does she do that?

“Looks like it’s showtime,” I say as I spot Alistair waiting by the door with a ready camera.

“Then JJ should be inside,” Mom informs us. “Take it away.”

“Here we are at Rhiannon Farley’s new design studio,” Paige says into the hand mic she’s using. “Very uptown and chic.” She glances up at the sleek building. “And no doubt expensive.”

We go inside and, instead of being greeted by an assistant like we usually are when it’s a big-name designer, we are met by Rhiannon herself. “Welcome,” she says happily. “Thank you so much for coming.”

JJ’s camera is running too as we exchange greetings and Rhiannon shows us around the spacious showroom, holding up some of her recent designs.

“These are for my spring line,” she says as she waves to a rack. “I’m calling it Linen and Lace.” She smiles at our linen suits. “Kind of like what you’re wearing, only a bit more feminine and Old World. The lace is all recycled and the linen is organic.” She continues, showing us pieces and explaining some of the thought behind her designs.

“And I hear you just landed a new account,” Paige says cheerfully.

“Yes!” Rhiannon claps her hands. “One of my very favorite stores too. Anthropologie is trying out some of my garments. I’m so excited.”

“Congratulations,” I tell her. “I love Anthropologie as well.”

“They’ll be in the winter catalog.” “I’ll be watching,” I say.

“So come on into the design room,” she says as she leads us down a hallway. “This is where it all happens.” As she shows us a room that’s filled with everything from burlap sacks to beaded bags to old buttons, it’s obvious that this is not the typical designer’s workspace.

“So let’s pretend you’re starting a new design,” Paige says to her. “Where would you begin?”

Rhiannon starts looking around, gathering up some pieces that I can’t really imagine working together. She picks up a drawing pad and starts to sketch. Then she’s laying things out. And then she explains the garment she’s creating, showing us her drawing and which materials go where —and it’s like a light goes on. I get it.

“Wow,” I say. “You could take those items and turn them into that?”

She laughs. “Hopefully. It takes help from my crew. I can’t believe how cool it is to have real seamstresses working under me. I was so used to doing everything myself. To be honest, it was a little hard to let go at first. But now that I’m used to it, all I want to do is design and design.”

“You’re very young to be a designer on her own,” Paige points out.

Rhiannon nods. “And I’m not too proud to admit that has a lot to do with some excellent connections.” She talks about how Katherine Carter mentored her and how she introduced Rhiannon to some important people in the fashion world. “But I really owe this studio to my new partner, Eliza Wilton.” Now Rhiannon looks slightly uncomfortable, as if she is aware of the rumors swirling about her business associate.

“Yes, I know that Ms. Wilton used to do some professional modeling and has some fashion experience, but how involved is she in the actual design process?” Paige asks with surprising ease.

“Eliza primarily handles the business end of things.” Rhiannon pauses. “Although she sometimes gives me input.” She laughs nervously. “Not that I always take it. Our senses of style are quite different. In fact, some have questioned how we can actually work together as a team. But so far it seems to be going well, and I’m hugely appreciative of this partnership. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without Eliza.”

I’m thinking she really means “without Eliza’s money,” but I would never say this.

“Is it possible to get a few words with Ms. Wilton?” Paige asks. “Some of our viewers might be interested to learn a bit about the business perspective of a design firm.”

“Sure.” Rhiannon moves toward the door, with cameras trailing. “Let’s go see if she’s in her office.”

As we go down the hall again, I feel certain that Eliza will not be in her office today. Really, why would she set herself up for this? But when Rhiannon knocks, Eliza answers. “Yes?”

“Surprise!”
Paige sings out.

Eliza’s blue eyes grow wide and it’s obvious she’s been caught totally off guard. Suddenly I wonder if she even knew that our show was coming to New York to film. Is it possible she was kept in the dark? What if Rhiannon didn’t want Eliza to know—wanted to keep a lid on things? But then why would she have knocked on the door?

“Do you mind if we get some words from you for our TV show,
On the Runway?”
Paige asks pleasantly. “I know some of our viewers will find it fascinating to hear about your role in the fashion industry. Because we know it takes all kinds of talents to create a successful line.”

“I … uh …” Eliza glances from Paige to Rhiannon.

“Unless you’re too busy,” Paige says lightly.

“Oh, she’s not
that
busy.” Rhiannon enters the office. She goes to Eliza’s desk, picking up an opened magazine in a teasing way.

“Fantastic!” Paige gently pushes her way into the modern-yet-elegant office too. It’s obvious that a lot of money and probably an interior designer were involved in the setup of this sleek space. And I feel just slightly intrusive as we all string in after Paige, finding places among the contemporary pieces of furniture. Mom finds a corner as JJ mics Eliza, who sits at her desk, looking more and more uncomfortable. Rhiannon and I position ourselves in front of a cabinet near the desk.

After we’re all situated, Paige takes a chair opposite Eliza.
“Now tell us about your regular workday, Eliza. How do you spend most of your time?”

“Well, I … I oversee the bookkeepers and I, uh, I do a little research …”

“Does your work keep you pretty busy?” Paige asks brightly.

Eliza looks truly uncomfortable now. I think I see beads of sweat on her forehead. “Busy enough.”

“Because you know what our grandmothers would say,” Paige continues in a perky tone.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, you know the old saying about how
idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”
Paige’s smile seems genuine, but her blue eyes are like steel. “In your regular workday, I assume you handle publicity releases for Rhiannon too? And you probably do interviews for magazines and newspapers and whatnot?”

Eliza shrugs. “Sometimes I do.”

“In fact, I think I recently saw something about you in the news …” Paige puts a finger alongside her chin like she’s thinking some diabolical thought. “Let’s see, the article had to do with another designer … I don’t recall the name.”

The office is silent.

“Perhaps
you
remember?” Paige leans toward Eliza.

Eliza’s features get a hardened look, and I imagine I can see the wheels spinning in her head, like she’s conjuring up some kind of escape route or defense plan.

“Oh,” Eliza says innocently. “You must mean that drivel they’re printing about Dylan and me.” She laughs. “That’s old news, Paige. The photo was probably from last year. Everyone knows Dylan and I have been good friends for ages.”

Paige swings her forefinger in the air dramatically. “No,
no … that’s not quite what I read. The piece I read suggested that you and Dylan Marceau were much more than
just good friends.
I believe you were quoted as saying that—”

“Surely you know how unreliable tabloid quotes are,” Eliza interrupts. “Anyone who believes that nonsense deserves to be duped.”

Mom and I exchange fast glances and I can tell she’s trying to decide how best to “direct” this. I give her a quick nervous smile, as if to say,
it’s okay … let it go … we can cut later if necessary.
She barely tips her head in a nod.

“So are you saying that you haven’t been romantically involved with Dylan Marceau?” Paige’s expression is dead serious, as if she’s suddenly turned into a prosecuting attorney. “Are you saying that you haven’t been having an affair with him? Do you claim that all those rumors are simply that—
rumors?”

Eliza shrugs, but her lips curl into an icy smile. “Really, Paige, your questions seem a bit out there. Tell me, is this business now, or is this personal? Because I do not see how my relationship with Dylan Marceau has anything to do with your little TV show.”

“Oh, but it does, Eliza. This is
hot fashion news.
My viewers know that I’m engaged to
the famous designer
Dylan Marceau and they will be very interested to hear whether or not the gossip sheets are reporting the truth. Please, Eliza, set us all straight. Have you been sleeping with my fiancée?”

Eliza snaps her fingers toward the cameras. “Turn those off. Right now, before I call security.”

“But we were invited here.” Paige turns to Rhiannon, who looks slightly blindsided. “Right?”

Rhiannon nods, her eyes worried.

“And my show would like to get to the truth in this matter, Eliza. Please, for the record, set us straight. Are the tabloids right? Have you been having an affair with my fiancée?”

Eliza glares at Paige — looking as if she’s tempted to pick up her silver letter opener and slit my sister’s throat. I wonder if I should remove the potential weapon, but Eliza doesn’t move and her lips seem to be sealed. I’m afraid this has turned into a standoff.

“Shall I take your silence to mean that it’s true then?” Paige asks in a sad tone. “That you really did go after Dylan? You pursued him knowing full well that he was engaged?” She shakes her head. “I honestly hoped you had more character than that, Eliza.”

Eliza suddenly gets a smug look, like she thinks she’s won this round — or perhaps the whole match. “Seriously, Paige, I hardly see how it reflects on
my
character if Dylan prefers me to you. Perhaps you just need to cut your losses and move on.”

Paige seems to be at a loss for words, which is unusual.

“Think of it this way,” Eliza continues in a self-satisfied way. “At least you weren’t married yet. In a way, you really should thank me.”

“So you admit that you slept with Dylan in the Bahamas?” Paige demands point blank. “You don’t deny it?”

“I neither confirm nor deny it. And I’m sure it’s quite troubling to you, Paige, but really,
it’s not public business.”

Paige glances at me with a puzzled expression, almost as if she wants me to give her an answer, but I’m literally gape-mouthed now, waiting for her next move—and hoping she has one.

Paige turns back to Eliza. “You say your personal affairs
are not public business, Eliza, and yet you’ve helped thrust this into the public eye.”

Eliza actually smiles now. “Well, you know what they say about publicity.”

“I do know. And I happen to know something else about your life that’s not public business, Eliza. At first I thought it was random, but in some ways it helps to explain how you’ve acted toward Dylan.”

“What are you talking about?” Eliza narrows her eyes.

“There was another time you entered into an impulsive relationship with a fairly well-known man. Another time when you showed a lack of discretion, Eliza.”

“What?”
Eliza stands up, her chair flying backward.

“I’m talking about a little episode that occurred in the south of France. Your family tried to keep the story quiet, but I found—”

Eliza’s face has paled considerably. “Turn off the cameras,” she seethes.

“Why?” Paige asks innocently. “I thought you appreciated publicity?”

“Turn off the cameras,” Eliza repeats in a flat tone. Paige looks like she’s considering Eliza’s request and then she turns to JJ and Alistair. “Yes, please, do turn them off, guys.”

JJ and Alistair look seriously reluctant, but Mom waves her hand at them. “Turn them off, boys. Cut.” They lower the cameras and we all wait. “What do you want?” Eliza asks quietly. “The truth,” Paige tells her. “About Cannes?” Eliza looks scared. “No … I already know about Cannes, Eliza. I want the
truth about the Bahamas—and Dylan. Not for the show, but for me. I want to know what really happened.”

With a dark scowl, Eliza folds her arms in front of her.
“Nothing happened!”

Paige looks skeptical. “Really? Nothing happened between you and Dylan? Are you saying that when he stayed in your room during the hurricane
nothing happened?”

“That’s right.
Nothing
happened.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that from the beginning? Why have you dragged us all through this muck and mire and innuendo?”

She shrugs.

Paige seems stumped—or maybe she’s just finished. She looks at me now, like she hopes I might have some brilliant idea or a way to wrap this up. And suddenly I do.

“Eliza?” I step closer. “How about if you say the same thing for the cameras now?”

“Forget it.”

“No, listen.” I use a coaxing tone. “Right now you look like a total skank in the public eye. Paige’s fans are going to hate you. The fashion industry is going to suspect your integrity. If you have any self-respect at all, you should
want
for people to know the truth. Do you really want everyone thinking you tried to steal someone else’s fiancée?”

“She’s right,” Rhiannon confirms. “Not only that, but your image is important to our business. You need to be honest, Eliza—for everyone’s sake.”

“Fine.” Eliza tosses the camera guys an aggravated look. “Go ahead and turn your cameras on.” She points to Paige. “Do not bring up Cannes.”

“I don’t plan to. In fact, I’ll ask for that part to be edited out.”

“Really?” Eliza looks skeptical.

“I’m not trying to humiliate you,” Paige says evenly. “I only want the truth.”

With cameras running, Paige questions Eliza—a bit more gently this time —and Eliza comes fairly clean as she relays her story.