A Broken Kind of Beautiful (19 page)

Tap, tap, tap
.

She set her hands over the cloth and pressed the dampness against her face.
Go away
.

Tap, tap
. “Ivy, you in there? Open up. I need to speak with you.”

She flew from the cushions like a cork popping from a champagne bottle. The cloth dropped from her eyes. The strap of her tank top fell off her shoulder. She straightened it. Turned in a frantic circle, straightening pillows and running a trembling hand through her hair. Why was Bruce here? He never came, except for that one time—the morning he’d banished her to Greenbrier and then he hadn’t bothered with knocking.

Tap, tap, tap
. “Ivy?”

Please, no … Please, no … Please, no …

She repeated the mantra inside her head.
Don’t let this be it
. Bruce couldn’t let her go. She was his niece. Flesh and blood. That had to mean something. James’s face flashed in her mind, reminding her that no, it didn’t have to mean anything. She pushed her knuckles into her stomach and opened the door.

Bruce paced in the hall. As soon as the door opened all the way, Ivy stepped back and he paced right over her threshold.

“Why is it so dark in here?” He marched to the windows and pulled up the blinds.

Ivy squinted against the onslaught of brightness.

His gaze took in her bare toes, rolled up her body, and stopped at her eyes. “You look like death.”

She managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

He smacked something against her kitchen counter. It connected with a crinkled envelope and knocked it into the air. NYU’s emblem twisted and turned as the envelope fluttered toward the ground. Ivy reached over and snagged it midfall, before Bruce could lay eyes on the return address. Why hadn’t she thrown it away or ground it up in the garbage disposal along with the rejection letter? She tucked it into the back pocket of her shorts and looked at the object in Bruce’s hand. A rolled-up magazine. He tossed it onto the island. It plopped, then unrolled itself.
Southern Brides
.

Joan must have sent Bruce an early copy.

“I should be livid with you after the stunt you pulled with Tatiana and Luke.”

She stepped forward. “I know. That was completely messed up. I’m so sorry. After everything you’ve done for me, I should have never done that.”

“You’re right about that.”

“I’m so sorry, Bruce. Really, truly sorry.” She’d grovel until kingdom come if it meant keeping her agent.

“Would you quit apologizing?” He flung open the magazine and jabbed his finger at the pictures. Her and Stefan surrounded by flowers. “Take a look at that. Just look at it.”

Every last drop of moisture in her mouth evaporated. She stepped toward the opened magazine like it was a snake with bared fangs. When she looked, her heart plummeted. She stared with accumulating dread at the pictures. At the Ivy Davis had captured with his camera. She didn’t recognize her at all. That Ivy looked like a stranger, a woman hiding too many secrets. A woman with too much vulnerability behind her smile. It wasn’t like any picture she’d ever taken. It was one hundred percent horrible.

“Oh no. Bruce …” He would fire her now. Of course he would. He’d given her two weeks of go-sees with no results and now he would let her go. Wish her well. She was done.

“These are brilliant!”

She looked up at her uncle. “What?”

“Absolutely brilliant.” Bruce laughed, then started pacing again. Ivy looked at the pictures. Were they seeing the same ones? Was Bruce losing his eye? She squinted, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t see any brilliance in them. “We’re going to have to postpone your flight. I’ll arrange for you to fly back tomorrow evening so you can finish your work with Marilyn. And you will finish it, Ivy. You’ll take more pictures with Davis, and you’ll convince him to come back to New York City with you.”

“Hold up, Bruce, you’re losing me. What’s going on?”

“A rep from Vera Wang called. I spoke with her last week at a fashion gala and told her about you and this shoot. I sent her the pictures this morning and she wants you. Vera Wang wants you.”

Ivy’s mind spun. She placed her hand on the counter to keep her knees steady. “Wait … what?”

“I’ve set up a meeting tomorrow morning. This rep, Juliette, wants to see you in person. They’re starting a big campaign for their spring dress line at the end of September, right after the fashion show you’re doing for Marilyn. She wants you, and she wants Davis Knight.”

Gravity disappeared. She actually had to expend effort to keep her limbs from floating over her head. A laugh bubbled up her throat and tumbled out her mouth.

Bruce squished her face between his palms and kissed her forehead. “Just when I think you’re done, Ivy. Just when I think you’re finished, you go and pull something like this.”

Ivy swelled beneath his praise. Absolutely swelled. Bruce loved her. She wasn’t losing her usefulness at all. She would finish her work with Marilyn,
polish up that smile—that smile she hated but Vera Wang loved—and return to New York to do the biggest photo shoot of her life. To do something that might finally give her the staying power she needed.

“Now all you have to do is convince Davis. You can do that, right?”

Bruce’s words popped her ballooning joy. Convince Davis to come with her to New York City? Gravity came back in a resounding swoosh. She was pretty sure she couldn’t convince Davis to do anything. Especially not something like this.

18

Bells tinkled overhead as Davis opened the front door of Something New. Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” tapered into the slower-paced “String of Pearls” by Glenn Miller. Trombone and clarinet trickled from hidden speakers and swirled with Marilyn’s vanilla-peach air freshener. As her nephew, Davis knew the name of every musician—possibly every song—from the Big Band era. The woman had a secret collection of Duke Ellington posters tacked to the walls in her basement and still did laundry to Ella Fitzgerald singing on an antique phonograph.

Davis shoved a rolled-up copy of
Southern Brides
into the back pocket of his cargo shorts. He wanted to show it to Marilyn on the off chance she hadn’t bought herself a copy as soon as it hit stores this morning. If she happened to shed some light on Ivy’s extended absence while he was there, then so be it. That’s not why he was coming. He stepped farther inside the boutique and spotted not just one but three copies of
Southern Brides
arranged like a fan on top of a short glass table to the right of the checkout counter. He imagined his own copy wilting in his back pocket. So much for his excuse.

Marilyn bustled around a large rack of dresses, half-swallowed by two puffy ensembles draped over one arm. She used her free hand to squish down tulle and chiffon and smiled at him over the fluff. “Davis, I didn’t know you were stopping by. Did you see what came out today?”

He took the magazine from its hiding place and gave it a pathetic wave.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Her heels clicked in tune with the music as she closed the gap between them. “Joan sent me a copy yesterday morning, and already two people have brought the magazine in to say how good the spread looks.”

Davis relieved her of the dresses. He preferred to see Marilyn’s face when he talked to her. “You’re busy.”

The flush in her cheeks shaved years off her face. This was exactly what she needed. She’d said she wanted a distraction from her loss, which on most days was hard to spot but present nonetheless—occasionally manifesting itself through a vacant stare or a flightiness uncharacteristic to his aunt. Well, he’d helped deliver that distraction. He should feel good about that.

“I’ve had two phone calls from potential clients who found me because of the magazine. And another from a web guy who wanted to know if I’d be interested in taking my store online. Can you believe that?” She looked over her shoulder at a stocky girl with mousy brown hair twirling in front of the mirrors, talking to Sara. “And Becky-Sue Bruckle told me she’s not leaving without a dress.”

He squinted one eye. He remembered Becky-Sue. “She graduated with Sara, didn’t she? Twin sister named Stacy?”

“Sweethearts, both of them. Becky-Sue got engaged last week to Jonas Ludd. You know Jonas. He’s Jordan’s older brother.”

Davis frowned. Just what Sara needed—a reminder of the man who broke her heart. He looked over Marilyn’s head, toward his sister and Sunny, who sat by her side. She held several veils as she spoke with Becky-Sue.

“How’s Sara doing?”

“Excited about the editorial. She’s made me describe every picture at least a half a dozen times.” Marilyn smiled like a proud mother. She would have been an excellent one. “Eager for our meeting tonight.”

Meeting? He wrinkled his forehead.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you? We’re getting together to talk about the fashion show. We need to get a move on if we want to have it at the end of September. That’s already less than two months away.”

“Oh, right.” He bit his cheek and shifted his weight from heel to ball. It had been almost two and a half weeks. Was Ivy not coming back? “Do you know … are we going to …?”

“Please don’t say you’re bailing, Davis. We need all the help we can get. Sara and I don’t have a clue what we’re doing.”

“I’ll be there.” He’d like to know if Ivy would be there too, but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding overly invested, so he let the question evaporate and motioned toward Becky-Sue. “Am I taking these over there?”

Marilyn waved her hand and led the way. When he got near the mirrors, he hung the dresses on a set of ornate hooks and put his arm around Sara.

She jumped and dropped the veils.

“Davis!” Becky-Sue stopped twirling. “How are you?”

Sara swatted his arm. “You scared me half to death.”

“I’m good, Becky-Sue. How are you?”

She did a little bunny hop toward him and nearly stabbed his nose with her engagement ring. “I’m engaged!”

He patted the top of Sunny’s head. “Congratulations.”

“She’s a little excited about it,” Sara murmured from the corner of her mouth.

“So it would seem.”

Marilyn stepped onto the stage and started buttoning the back of the dress. Becky-Sue could hardly stand still. She was like a four-year-old in a grown-up body, which could be mistaken as a side effect of engagement to anyone who didn’t already know Becky-Sue. But this was just how she always was. In fact, he’d heard Sara joke that while in utero, Becky-Sue must have snatched all the exuberant genes while Stacy got stuck with the serious ones.

“I still can’t get over it. I mean, four months ago, Stacy and I went on a blind date with Jonas and his brother, and now here I am with this ring on my finger. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Sara’s expression gave an odd sort of twitch at the mention of Jonas’s brother. Davis grimaced at Becky-Sue in the mirror. She must have caught the look, because she reined in her excitement. “Stacy and Jordan are only
friends now, of course. They’re not romantic or anything. In fact, Stacy thinks Jordan’s still in love with you, Sara.”

Davis’s grimace grew more pronounced. If he was standing closer, he’d nudge Becky-Sue in the rib with his elbow.

Sara fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. “I hope he finds a nice girl and settles down. Your sister’s a nice girl, Becky-Sue.”

Becky-Sue ran her hand down the pleats of her dress, then clasped them in front of her middle. She flashed Davis a full-cheeked grin. “I heard congratulations are in order for you too.”

He bit back a groan. Of all the people Ivy could have told about the false engagement, why did it have to be Rachel Piper—the town gossip’s daughter?

“Stacy heard from our cousin Lucy, who’s friends with Rachel, that you’re engaged to a model.” She brought her hands to her chin. “Rachel said your fiancée has legs up to here.”

Marilyn finished the last button and laughed. “Davis? Engaged to Ivy?”

The groan escaped. “It’s a rumor, Becky-Sue. I’m not engaged.”

“Oh, really?” Her face fell, like he was wrong somehow. “Because Stacy said that Lucy said that Rachel said she heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“I think I’d know for certain if I were engaged or not, don’t you?”

Becky-Sue blushed.

Sara bent over and patted around the floor for the fallen veils. He came down by her side to help. “Be nice,” she whispered.

“Aren’t I always?”

Marilyn grabbed one of the dresses Davis had hung on the set of hooks. “Let’s try one of these on, Becky-Sue. I think a halter will flatter you more than the strapless.”

Becky-Sue let out an excited squeak and followed Marilyn into the dressing rooms.

Davis stood.

“Engaged to Ivy?” Sara asked, taking the veils from Davis. “How did that rumor start?”

“How do you think?”

“She’s coming back today, you know.”

“She is?”

His sister cocked her head as if deciphering the lilt of his question. At least she couldn’t see the burn in his cheeks. “She called Marilyn this morning. She had an important meeting, but she said she’d be back tonight to help us organize the fashion show.”