Sammy in Italy (Single Wide Female Travels #2) (6 page)

Every time I heard his voice in my head, a spike of anger rushed through me.
Why aren’t you here with me, Max?
I took another deep breath and tried to recite some mantras in my head. As I relaxed in the repetition of the mantra, the sound of footsteps roused me.

I opened my eyes to see a man before me. He was very slender, with a tailored suit that gave him more of a figure than I’d seen on many women. From behind purple-tinted glasses he stared at me.
 

“Samantha?”
 

“Yes.” I smiled. “Did you want a book signed?”

“No, I just want to look at you. Could you stand up, please?”
 

The request was a little strange, but I didn’t want to argue. I stood up and rested my hands on the table.
 

“Step away from the table, please.” He perched two fingertips on the slope of his chin, which was peppered with silver stubble.
 

“Is something wrong?” My body tensed. Most of my fans were women. Why was this man so interested in what I looked like?

“Not if you do as I ask. Step out here, please—where I can see all of you.”
 

The words “all of you” set off alarm bells. Was it my weight that he was referring to? I glanced around for any sign of Isabella. When I didn’t see her, I looked back at the man. “Are you here for the book signing?”

“Sort of.” He tilted his head back and forth. “Is there a reason why you are hiding yourself behind that table?”
 

“I’m not hiding.”

“Then step out here.” He tapped one foot on the floor in front of him.

I narrowed my eyes. Who did this man think he was to order me around? I didn’t want to cause a commotion. I decided there could be no harm in stepping away from the table, but I did keep a good distance from the spot he’d touched on the floor.
 

“What can I do for you?” I frowned.
 

“I have to say that I’m a little disappointed.” He tapped his chin.
 

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be.” He sighed so hard that his shoulders drooped.

My eyes widened. “What are you talking about? Have I done something to upset you?”

“In your books you present yourself as this confident force of nature, but here I see you hiding behind a table, hesitant to present yourself to me. I might have made a mistake.”
 

“Why would I present myself to you?” I raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”
 

“Alistair Gordon.” He held out a hand to me.

I took it in a quick shake that I hoped disguised the sweat on my palm. I recalled his name from dinner with Isabella. He was the designer.
 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gordon, I didn’t realize who you were.”

“I didn’t want you to. I thought it might make you nervous.” He studied me as he took a few steps closer to me.

I held my breath as I endured the inspection.

“I guess you’re just the nervous type. Which does disappoint me, I’ll admit.”
 

I bit into my bottom lip. It was a shining moment and I was dim. “I didn’t expect you to be here this early.” I cleared my throat. “The dress you designed is beautiful.”

“No, it isn’t.” He scowled. “The dress is a rag. It’s nothing. What matters is the woman who wears it. Now it will likely be a flop.”
 

“There’s no need to be mean.” I crossed my arms.
 

“Isn’t there? From your books you come across as a groundbreaker—a troublemaker—but what I see before me is a shrinking violet. What happened?” He stared into my eyes.
 

“I just was surprised about the fashion show. I aspire to be many things, but I’ve never claimed to have accomplished all of them.” I shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ve been struggling a little lately. I won’t lie about it. If you have time to find another model, it would probably be a good idea.”

“Really?” He placed his hands on his hips. “That’s your response?”
 

“I’m not sure what else I can say.”

“You can tell me that you will wear that dress and make me even wealthier than I am. You can tell me that you are exactly who I expected you to be, and that you will prove it on the runway.” He took a final step toward me and ended up so close that I could smell his cologne. “You might think that you are not the woman I want, but you are. I just need you to let that woman out.”

“Okay. I’ll try.” I inched away from him.

Chapter 13

“Samantha, don’t try—do.” Alistair snapped his fingers right in front of my face.

A surge of annoyance rushed through me. Rude behavior always got under my skin.
 

“I am only who I am.” I frowned. “That’s all I can be.”
 

“That’s exactly who I want you to be. When you are on the runway today, I want to see you. If I don’t, then no one will buy that dress. I promise you that. Many women can wear a dress, but only a few can bring it to life. That is what I need from you. This dress will enliven the hearts and minds of women across the world. Do you understand that, Samantha?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m terrified.” I blinked a few times to hide the tears that were building in my eyes. “I’m not sure that I’m qualified to do something like that.”

“You don’t need to be qualified, you just need to be you. It’s not as if I’m asking for a miracle. You already are who you are, Samantha. You just need to figure out why you’re hiding.” He rapped his knuckles against my forehead in a light but annoying touch. “Come out to play, Samantha…please?”
 

“Wonderful, you’ve met Alistair.” Isabella walked up to the table just as Alistair lowered his hand.
 

“Yes.” I swallowed back unkind words. “Yes, he found me.”

“I did.” He turned to face Isabella. “Don’t you look stunning? Not that I should be surprised. Ah, my beautiful creation.” He stroked her cheek.
 

“Yes, it’s true.” Isabella laughed and kissed his cheek. “I suppose I should tell you, Samantha—Alistair took me out of horrible polyester pants suits and helped me to find my inner style. He’s a very talented man, with an amazing eye for beauty. That’s why it was no surprise to me when he wanted you for the show.”
 

I lowered my eyes. So Alistair was all he claimed to be, yet I disappointed him.
 

“Yes. I’m sure she will do well.” Alistair nodded at me. “See you soon, Samantha.”
 

I smiled in return.

As he walked away, Isabella looked in my direction. “Samantha, you look pale? Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“I’m not. I just can’t place it. Something is off.” I shook my head.
 

“Could you be…?” She pointed to my stomach.
 

“Hungry?” I shook my head.
 

“No, ah—I mean—sometimes women experience tiredness and lack of appetite in the first few weeks of pregnancy.” Her smile grew wide.
 

“What?” My eyes spread wide. “No, absolutely not—not a chance. I’m not pregnant.”
 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. I overstepped. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just didn’t want you to feel you needed to hide it if it were true.” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t upset you.”

“No, you just startled me.” I laughed. “I haven’t even thought about pregnancy, and the idea that I might be kind of shocked me. I can assure you, pregnancy is not the problem.”

“Then what is?” She took my hand. “I can be a good listener.”

“I’m sure you can be, but people are beginning to arrive. We should get the signing started.”

“Okay, but if you need to talk, I’m here, Samantha. I hope that you can think of me as your friend.”
 

“Thank you, Isabella.”
 

As the guests filed in and began to take their seats, I tried to push down the butterflies in my stomach. It occurred to me that I was completely disconnected from my body. I spent so much time learning to be in tune with it, and somehow all of that knowledge had disappeared. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My fingers fluttered against the sides of my pants.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to find my center. It wasn’t too long ago that I didn’t even have to look for it. Yet in front of this group of people my thoughts spun so fast that I couldn’t even think of a greeting.

Isabella stepped up beside me.
 

“Welcome, everyone. Thank you for understanding our sudden change of venue. It is such a wonderful opportunity for us to have Samantha Bradford here. I know that she’s looking forward to sharing her insights with all of us. So I’ll just turn things over to her. Samantha.” She smiled at me.

The audience applauded.

I smiled hard, in an attempt not to lose the muffin I’d eaten while ago. My heart jumped, then slammed hard against my chest. All eyes were on me. My lips parted and words began to form. I had no idea what I was saying until I heard it for myself.
 

“Thank you all for being here. I appreciate your support and hope that you can find a little inspiration from this reading.” I turned to the pre-selected page from my book
Becoming Zara
and began to read. As the words flowed, I actually listened to them. I heard my own voice break through the text before me. The passion, the determination, and the inspiration filled more than just my audience—it filled me as well.

Yes, there was the Sammy that Max had been referring to. There was the Sammy that I’d been only a few days before.

When I closed the book and looked out at the audience, I saw a sea of faces. Each one was a little different than the others. It touched me to the core to think that despite their different walks of life, despite being on entirely different paths, they were all gathered together before me because of the book—because they’d found some truth in it, some inspiration in it. Who was I to doubt them?
 

As soon as Isabella announced the question and answer portion of the event, hands flew up into the air.

Chapter 14

I selected the first woman that I noticed with her hand raised.
 

“Yes, what is your question?”
 

She stood up and clutched her purse nervously. “Hello. It’s so nice to see you in person. I hope you don’t take offense at this question, but I really need to know.”
 

“Please feel free to ask me anything that’s on your mind.” I smiled.
 

“In your book, you make it sound so easy. Zara is so good at everything. Even if she struggles at first she accomplishes all that she sets out to do. Do you think that’s very realistic?” She glanced around at the other people in the audience. A few of the other women were nodding their heads as she spoke.
 

“I understand exactly what you mean. I think that if you were able to meet Zara, you’d see that she’s pretty much just like you and me. We have our good days, and we have our bad days. The important thing is that on our bad days, we focus on our next good day. We remind ourselves that it’s okay to have ups and downs—that it’s just part of how we change and grow.”

“That’s an interesting point.” The woman smiled. “Thank you.” She sat back down in her chair.

I called on the next person I saw with her hand up.

“Yes, do you have a question?”

“I heard a rumor that this will be an ongoing series. Is that true? Are you afraid that you’ll run out of material?” She looked me in the eye.

I took a breath and laughed a little. “I doubt that I’ll ever run out of material. Yes,
Becoming Zara
is the lead-in to my new series called the
B.I.G. Girls Club.
It’s a bit early to know for sure how long it will be, but I write a lot from my own experiences in life. As long as I’m still experiencing, I can assure you that I’ll have material.”
 

“Great. I’m looking forward to reading everything I can get my hands on.” She sat back down in her chair.

I pointed to a young man who had his hand raised.
 

“Hi, Samantha. I follow your blog.”
 

“Oh, wonderful. Thank you.”
 

“Yes, it’s great. But I was wondering if you feel that the blog is too personal? I find it difficult to be that open and honest with people in my life. I want to be, but that fear of being mocked is always there. How do you deal with that?”

His voice was gentle, but his question hit me hard. It reflected my emotions.
 

“To be honest with you, I don’t always handle it well. I handle it better than I used to. But it is easy to slip into old habits. The thing about daring to trust life is that there are risks. I might make a mistake. I might just fall on my face. But at least I will have made the attempt. A fall is usually just an opportunity to get back up. A failure is a chance to learn and grow—to be more successful the next time. If we take our disappointments in stride, we’ll never miss out on new opportunities.”

“What an awesome perspective. I guess I’ll keep on trying.” He sat back down in his chair.

After a few more questions, the session ended.

I sat down at the table to sign books for each of the attendants. It occurred to me, as I scribbled my name and a short message on the front flap of each book, that I’d forgotten all about Max not being there once the book signing had started.

When I was down to the last book, I looked up to find Alistair right in front of me.
 

“You still want me to sign a book?” The pen hovered over the flap.
 

“Yes, very much. I enjoyed your reading and the question and answer session. I saw the woman I’d hoped to meet when you were speaking to people who needed you.” He pushed the book closer to me. “Please sign it. I’m sure you will go on to write many other great works.”
 

“Thank you.” I jotted my signature and a short note to him about the difference he’d made in the lives of women with his bold fashion. When I handed the book back to him, he caught my hand between the cover and his palm for a moment.