Redesigned (8 page)

He merely stares at her with his expressionless face.

Surprisingly enough, Reed calls for a vote—score one for democracy—and the outcome is unanimous to go with the elevated stage and with the higher bid because that bidder’s stage seemed to be better constructed. Reed abstains from voting since he’s the head and the designated tiebreaker.

I’m partially surprised he didn’t overrule the vote anyway.

Before he dismisses the meeting, Reed assigns more tasks and announces we’ll meet on Friday.

The words have barely left his mouth, and he’s immediately up and out the door. I suspect he doesn’t want a repeat of our last meeting.

Greg doesn’t waste time following Reed out of the room. I’m sure he’s wondering how he got stuck in this sea of estrogen. Megan and Renee fall into step with Wendy as they leave the room discussing ideas they have to get the word out on campus.

Lexi stands next to her seat, waiting for me. “As I mentioned, tomorrow I’m going to see the director of the Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity.” She pauses. “I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

“Sure, but why me?”

She tilts her head with a half-shrug. “You just seem like you’d have an affinity toward the organization.”

My heart stutters. Does Lexi know about my past? How could she?

She must see my momentary shock. “It’s just that with your hybrid designs, it’s something underprivileged girls could do to spiff up their own wardrobes.”

Instead of making me feel better, her assessment hits too close to home.

She senses my hesitation. “It will look great on your resume if you have direct involvement with the organization.”

I doubt this is true, but Lexi really wants me to go with her. Everything in me screams to tell her no, but I can’t bring myself to do it. “Okay, what time is the meeting?”

Her face lights up with excitement. “Tomorrow at four. Can you get away then?”

I nod. “I have an open lab tomorrow, but I can get away.” Especially since I haven’t come up with any designs to work on.

“Great! How about we meet at the statue of Andrew Jackson at the edge of the west student parking lot, at three forty-five. We can go together.”

“Sure.”

“About last night.” She pauses. “I know I’m too dependent on my family.”

I shake my head. What had I been thinking? Lexi’s life is none of my business. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. I was totally out of line.”

She stops and turns to me. “You were right, but I’m not sure I’m ready to lose their support yet.

That’s part of the reason I’m here, though. To learn to be a bit more independent.”

If this is more independent, I’d hate to see what it was like before. My phone vibrates in my purse, and I pull it out. “It’s me today.” I laugh, but the smile falls off my face when I see the number.

Ice water flows through my veins. I consider not answering, but I haven’t seen that number on my caller ID in over three years. “I’m sorry … I have to take this.

“Of course!” Lexi waves and continues toward the stairwell. “See you tomorrow!”

I lean my back against the wall and take a deep breath, unsure if I’m ready to face what’s on the other side of the phone. My curiosity wins out. “Hello?”

“Carol Ann.”

My mother’s voice slams into my head, taking every ounce of confidence I’ve built up since coming to Southern. “Yes.” My voice is tentative. How did she get this number? I changed it when I moved away.

“It’s your momma.”

I want to say
I know
, but my mind is too muddled.

“I’m sick, Carol Ann.”

My breath sticks in my chest. My mother is the healthiest woman I know. When I was younger, the few times she was sick she went to work anyway. Her philosophy trickled down to her children.

The Hunter children didn’t stay home from school unless they had a fever over one hundred and two.

“I didn’t want to call you, but your father insisted.” Her voice has always been gravelly from years of smoking, but there’s a raspy tone I’m not used to hearing. My father’s voice is muffled in the background, encouraging her to continue. “They say it’s not good. I only have a couple of months.”

I’m not sure what to say. I’m standing in the busy hallway of the administration building, students streaming past me, and my mother has just told me she’s dying. I know I should feel something, but there’s nothing.

“Your father thought you should know.”

“What is it?” That’s an odd way to ask, but it’s the first thing that pops into my head.

“Lung cancer.” She laughs, but it sounds like a bark when she starts to cough. “Guess you were right after all.”

Back in fourth grade, we learned about the dangers of cigarette smoking from our DARE officer.

When I went home and begged my mother to stop smoking, worried her lungs would turn black like the ones in the photos he showed us, she told me to mind my own damn business. My feelings had been hurt for days, and I’d be justified to say
I told you so
, but the words stay deep in my chest.

“Okay.” I know I should say something else. Feel something else.

“All righty then. That’s it.” And then there’s silence. She’s hung up.

I stay propped against the wall, not trusting my now shaky legs. Of course, she’d call me out of nowhere in the middle of the day and drop this bombshell on me. She hasn’t said the one thing I’ve been waiting to hear since the day I drove out of Shelbyville:
I’m sorry
.

But she’ll never be sorry. She may have admitted I was right about smoking, but she’ll never admit that she treated me like dirt when I left home.

The truth hits me now, why I feel nothing at her news. She may be dying now, but she’s been dead to me for three years.

When I walk across campus at three forty-five, I see Lexi standing next to the eight-foot-tall statue of President Andrew Jackson. Other than country music, he’s Tennessee’s claim to fame. Southern has several images of him scattered across the campus.

Lexi wears a classic gray tweed skirt and jacket, an ivory blouse underneath, and a pair of three-inch-heeled black pumps. Her blonde hair is pulled into a French twist. I considered going casual so I’m now thankful I went with a business look as well: a silk blouse with a wool skirt and my suede boots. I’m also thankful I added a cardigan because there’s a nip in the air. Fall has finally arrived, bringing rain clouds to the west with it.

She casts a wary gaze into the parking lot then looks back toward the campus. A smile spreads across her face. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Now that I’m closer, I can see her suit is made from high quality wool and has a tailored fit. Her bag is soft leather, and her shoes obviously didn’t come from Payless.

Lexi’s attire reeks of money, but her clothes are extremely conservative for an eighteen-year-old. “I love your suit. Is it Chanel?”

She grins, but it falters a bit. “Yeah, I suppose you would notice since you’re a fashion major.”

I tilt my head and study the cut. “It doesn’t look vintage so it had to cost a fortune. Where did you find it?” Most college students could never afford a suit like hers.

Her eyes shift to an approaching car. “A friend gave it to me last year. At my old college.”

She’s acting strange, but I don’t want to pry. Perhaps she’s embarrassed that she’s wearing hand-me-downs. I hate admitting my clothes are mostly thrift store finds, even if I usually repurpose them.

An older sedan pulls up to the curb and Lexi walks toward it. “There’s our ride.”

I follow her, confused, as she opens the back door and stands next to it. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

I start to slide into the backseat when I see who’s sitting in the driver seat.

Reed.

In my shock, I gasp and start to get out of the car, but Lexi is climbing in, pushing me back inside and shutting the door.

“Okay, Reed. Let’s go.”

Reed grips the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. “Lexi.” Her name is a rumble.

“Reed, we’re going to be late and you know how much you like to be prompt.”

His jaw tightens as the car pulls away from the curb toward the parking lot exit.

I finally come to my senses. “What the—”

Lexi turns to me, beaming. “Caroline, tell me about your project.”

I have no idea why she’s so happy. She knows how rude her brother is during our meetings, but does she have any idea her brother humiliated me a week ago? Lexi seems like a sweet girl, so I suspect not. She’s probably one of those girls who has a hard time believing anyone, especially her brother, can do something terrible. I have two choices: One I can throw a huge fit and insist Reed stop the car; or two, I can pretend his presence doesn’t bother me at all. I decide to go with option two.

Reed’s behavior in the meeting and at the bar was to get a reaction from me, and I fell right into his trap. I’m not making that mistake again. Ignoring him, or worse yet, being nice to him will drive him crazy. I can’t quite bring myself to be nice, so I choose the second option.

But the question about my project sends anxiety skating down my back. I’ve made no progress.

At all. I still haven’t come up with a commonality to tie all my pieces together, or even tie into the theme of
Everyday Living
. Not that I have any pieces to tie together. I have nothing. “It’s still in the planning stage.”

“Sounds like you’re stalling,” Reed mumbles.

Lexi’s eyes narrow. “Who are your favorite designers?”

I’m not sure if she’s asking to intervene or if she’s truly interested, but I’m eager to avoid a confrontation with Reed. My ire has been stoked, my irritation simmering to a low boil. “I like classic designers: Caroline Herrera, Chanel of course.”

“How original,” Reed mutters just loud enough for me to hear.

Ignore him.

“But I love the delicateness of Alberta Ferretti’s designs and Matthew Williamson’s use of color.”

Lexi’s eyes widen. “I’m surprised. Matthew Williamson has more of an edge.”

I stare at her for a moment. “You know about designers?”

She blinks, then gives me a sly smile. “What can I say? I like
Vogue
.”

“For the pretty pictures.” Reed drones.

“Why did he come?” I snap.

Now Lexi looks worried. “He’s our ride.”

“I have a car in perfect working condition.” But that’s not entirely true. The car is twelve years old and barely on life support. I’m replacing a quart of oil every other day and the brakes are sketchy.

I pray it lasts until I graduate and get a job. If I get a job. All the more reason to keep my mouth shut and ignore Reed’s taunts.

Lexi shoots an annoyed glance to the front, but Reed stares straight ahead and doesn’t notice.

Why in the hell is he here? I realize the only time I’ve seen Lexi without her brother is last night in the coffee shop. I’ve heard of close families, but this borders on creepy. Why would she want to spend so much time with him when he’s a total ass?

Lexi turns toward me. “What made you want to go into fashion design?”

I give her my standard answer. “Clothing is an expression of people’s personalities and designers can help draw those nuances to the person’s exterior.” It sounds pretty and most people are impressed, even my advisor. But the fact is that it’s a lie.

I’ve given the explanation so many times I’ve begun to believe it myself, but after my conversation with my mother, my entire world seems to have shifted off center. Not enough to shake up my life, but enough to throw everything off.

“People actually believe that?” Reed asks.

“Reed!” Lexi’s voice is harsher than I’ve heard from her, but Reed doesn’t seem to notice.

My shoulders straighten and I look into the rearview mirror so I can see his face, even if he’s not looking up. “And what do you have trouble with, Mr. Pendergraft?”

“
Draw nuances of a person’s personality to their exterior
? It sounds like something you’d find on a freshman college entrance essay.”

“What? And I’m sure you have some perfectly logical reason as to why you want to get a graduate degree in mathematics?”

“Of course, I do.”

“And it is…?” I lift my eyebrows and glare into the mirror.

Reed’s gaze lifts and I lock eyes with his in the reflection.

His focus returns to the road. “I like the logic of math, and I think the world needs more logic instead of fluff answers such as drawing nuances of a person’s personality.”

I’m surprised I’m not hurt by his rude behavior, but I’m too furious for hurt feelings to rise to the surface. “The world needs more beauty and kindness, not rude behavior thinly disguised as logic.”

Lexi’s face pales and I’m sure she regrets bringing me along.

Strangely enough, Reed remains quiet for the next few minutes until he pulls into a small parking lot in front of a series of houses that are painted the same dark tan with black shutters. Yellow chrysanthemums fill neatly tended flowerbeds in front of the houses. A sign in the yard reads:
Middle
Tennessee Children’s Charity
.

Reed wastes no time parking and jumping out of the car before Lexi and I get our doors open.

Not that I’m in any hurry to get out. I need to pull myself together before I go inside and meet the director.

Lexi senses my hesitation. My hand stretches across the cracked leather of the backseat and Lexi’s hand covers mine. “I’m sorry. I know he can be rude, but he’s not usually this bad.” She sighs.

“You seem to bring out the worst in him.”

I laugh, but it’s more of a snort. “Lucky me.”

“I’m sorry.”

I pull my hand out from underneath hers. “Stop saying you’re sorry. He’s the ass. How does that make
you
responsible?”