A Dangerous Widow (A Dangerous Series) (10 page)

“I’m going to get Blackwell now,” Jennifer
said.
 
“She’s the key to you winning
your first official social event in years.”

“What is she like?” I asked.
 
“I’ve read that she can be…difficult.”

“Oh, trust me, she can,” she said.
 
“At least initially.
 
But when she comes to know you and
decides that she likes you—everything changes.
 
Believe me on this.
 
Soon, you’ll come to love her as much as
I do.”

“But what if she doesn’t like me?” I said.

“Oh, if that happens?
 
Then you’re screwed.”

 
*
 
*
 
*

“We go to Bergdorf,” Blackwell said to the
driver as I stepped into the back of the black limousine waiting for me outside
my apartment building.
 
Jennifer was
inside, and she kissed me on each cheek as I sat down next to her.
 
As for Blackwell, she was sitting across
from me, replete in a red Chanel suit that was to die for.

She assessed me for a moment before leaning
forward to shake my hand.

“Barbara Blackwell,” she said.
 
“Fashion icon.”

“I know,” I said.
 
“Over the years, Jennifer has told me so
much about you.
 
As have
others.
 
And I’ve read so much about
you.
 
I can’t tell you how grateful
I am that you’ve agreed to come along.
 
As I said to Jennifer earlier, you
are
an
icon in this city.
 
It’s such a
pleasure to meet you, Ms. Blackwell.”

“Call me Barbara,” she said.
 
“If only because
j’adore
the summery dress you’re wearing.
 
Ralph?”

“In fact, it is.”

“So pretty—unlike your hair.”
 
She looked at Jennifer.
 
“We might need to involve Bernie.
 
We might need to invoke an intervention.”

“Is there something wrong with my hair?”

“Actually, you have beautiful hair,
Kate—so thick.
 
So healthy and
straight.
 
But the cut is all
wrong.
 
You’re wearing it too long
for your features, which are overwhelmed by your current cut.
 
Let me text Bernie before it’s too
late.
 
We’ll try for tomorrow at
five-thirty—if he’s even available on such short notice.
 
I want him on hair and makeup.”
 

She looked at me when she said that, and her
face softened along with her voice.
 
“I’ve read about what you’ve been through, Kate.
 
All of Manhattan has.
 
And I’m terribly sorry about all of
it.
 
I can’t even imagine what
you’ve been through since your husband passed.
 
But, if you’re going to attend your
first major social event tomorrow night and if this is under my watch, then
you’ll have nothing but the best from me, because you deserve it.
 
I’ve also read about
you
,
you know?
 
And the remarkable work you’ve
done though the Red Cross and the Stone Foundation.
 
Your efforts have changed many
lives.
 
So allow me to change yours,
even if it is for only one evening.”

“See?” Jennifer said.

“See what?” Blackwell asked as she removed
her cell from her Birkin.

“I told Kate that you were wonderful.”

“Oh, bullshit on that.
 
People fear me—as well they
should.
 
I can be a goddamned horror
show.
 
But not today.
 
Now shush while I text Bernie.
 
Just look at Kate’s hair, for God’s
sake.
 
This has just become a
full-on emergency, so let me lock it down.”

 
*
 
*
 
*

When we arrived at Bergdorf, I watched
Blackwell click on her phone and send out what appeared to be a text.
 

“Chloe is my go-to,” she said.
 
“Even though she’s disappointed me in
the past, at her core, she’s Bergdorf at its best.
 
With her help and my guidance, we’ll
find something perfectly suitable for you to wear tomorrow night.
 
By the way, what size are you?”

“Let’s just say that I’m not as thin as I
was when I was with Michael.”

“You have a lovely figure.
 
I’m guessing a four?”

“Around there.”

“Your breasts are full.”
 
She narrowed her eyes at me.
 
“Real or fake?”

“Real!”

“Well, good for you.
 
And you’re reasonably tall,” Blackwell
said.
 
“Five-seven?”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“I watched you as you walked toward the car,
and I have a trained eye.
 
With
heels, you’ll be five-ten, which is rather tall.
 
Are you attending this event with
someone?
 
If you are, how tall is
he?”

“I am.
 
He’s six-four.”

“Perfect.”

“Whom are you going with?” Jennifer
asked.
 
“You said he was a friend.”

“It’s a bit more than that,” I said.
 
“And beyond complicated.”

“I won’t press,” she said.

“Well, I will,” Blackwell said.
 
“Who’s the lucky man?”

“My former high school sweetheart,” I
said.
 
“For reasons I’d prefer not
to go into, he’s my date for tomorrow night.”

“And now I’m filled with questions,”
Jennifer said.
 
“But until you’re
ready to tell me, I’ll respect your privacy.”

“I won’t,” Blackwell said.
 
“What’s the deal?
 
Has he turned out to be the one?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.
 
He’s just helping me out with
something,” I said.

“‘Helping you out’?” Blackwell said as she
put her phone back into her Birkin.
 
“Code for ‘starting over.’
 
And may it happen for you, Kate.”

“It’s not like that at all,” I said.

“You might believe that now, but tomorrow
night—when each of you are dressed to the nines and he sees you after
Bernie and I are through with you?
 
Oh, that will change.
 
Trust
me, darling.
 
I mean, look what I
did with this one,” she said, hooking a thumb toward Jennifer.
 
“I essentially sand-blasted her, put her
in haute couture, and before you knew it, she was married to Alex.
 
So, you know, congratulations to you
that I’m here now, because I can sense love on the horizon.
 
What does he do?”

And what am I to say to that…?
 

With Jennifer present, I could hardly lie
since she’d eventually find out anyway, so I just went with the truth.
 
“He’s a private investigator,” I
said.
 
“Former SEAL.”

“Former SEAL,” Jennifer said.
 
“Like Tank, who’s driving us now.
 
I bet he’s even dreamier than you
remember.”

“I’m not thinking of him that way.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Blackwell said.
 
“I mean, please—he probably was
your first love.
 
So, why not
embrace those feelings now?”

“As I said, it’s complicated.”

“Then, I guess you’ll need to figure that
out on your own.
 
Anyway, we should
go,” she said.
 
“Time is running
out, especially if we need to tailor whatever gown we find for you.
 
Tank, I’ll call you when we’re
finished.”

“You’ve got it,” the driver said.

And with that, the three of us stepped into
Bergdorf.

 
*
 
*
 
*

“Chloe,” Blackwell said to the impossibly
chic blonde woman who met us at the entrance in a flawless yellow suit.
 
“Hellohoware?”

“I’m terrific, Barbara.
 
It’s good to see you.”

“As if we don’t see each other every day.”

“It’s still good to see you.
 
You jolt the day.”

“Like a bullet to the brain?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sometimes I have to wonder.”

“I—”

“Never mind.
 
I hate it when you try to recover after
I’ve rattled you to your Manolos—it’s embarrassing.”
 
Blackwell motioned toward me, and when
she did, Chloe turned to face me.
 
“This is our science project for the day,” she said.
 
“Kate Stone, this is that Chloe person I
was talking about in the car.
 
She’ll either do right by us this afternoon—or it will be
ruinous.”
 
She looked at Chloe.
 
“I expect the former.”

“And I plan to deliver.”

“We’ll see about that.
 
But you’ve had enough time to assess
Kate—so what do you have in mind?”

“Depends on the event?”

“The Witherhouses are having one of their
monthly parties tomorrow night.”

“So—couture?”

“Is that even a question?” Blackwell said.

“Come with me,” Chloe said.
 
“A few things came in today that haven’t
even hit the floor yet.
 
And only we
have them.”

“Only Bergdorf?”

“Only us.”

“Then take us to this treasure trove of
yours,” Blackwell said.
 
“And do it
fast—because, as I said, we might need to tailor the fit.
 
You do have a tailor ready for me,
should I need one, don’t you, Chloe?”

“Of course.
 
Already reserved.”

“Just look at how well I’ve trained
you.
 
Let’s go.”

 
*
 
*
 
*

We took an elevator to the third floor,
which was labeled
Women: Designer Evening
Wear
.
 
I’d been here before, of
course, but that had been years ago, and with Lucas running the show.
 
But already it was clear that he was no
Barbara Blackwell.
 
She appeared to
own this place, likely because, through her, Jennifer had spent tens, if not
hundreds of thousands of dollars here.

“Come with me,” Chloe said.
 
“We’ll go to one of the private dressing
areas.
 
Would you like a glass of
champagne?”

“Count me in,” Jennifer said.

“And me,” I said.

“Too many calories too early in the day for me,”
Blackwell said.
 
And then she looked
at each of us, and paused.
 
“Though
I might like a sip or two.”

“That’s my girl,” Jennifer said.

“Please,” Blackwell said.
 
“You two are already giving me my cardio
for the day.
 
I can afford it.
 
Now, let’s settle in and see what Chloe
has in mind for us.
 
Because I can
tell each of you this—and I know that you can hear me, Chloe—it
better be good.”

In fact, it was amazing.

After Chloe had an assistant bring us each a
glass of champagne, she emerged from one of the back rooms to bring out what
appeared to me to be a full-length black ball gown, which she cradled in her
arms.

“Oh,” Blackwell said with her fingertips
pressed against her lips.
 
“You
surprise me yet again.
 
Good on you,
Chloe.
 
Naturally, I know it.
 
Valentino.
 
I’ve seen it in
Vogue
.
 
And I already know for a fact that no
one else will be wearing this tomorrow night—it’s just out, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Chloe said.

“Drop it,” Blackwell said.
 
“Let’s see all of it.”

When Chloe held it up for all of us to see,
Blackwell stood from her chair and went over to it.