She's All That (18 page)
“Call Sara now.” With that, Nate slams the door and I'm left alone. I look at the table tossed aside in this mess. I can't believe after two years of working with Kim, of cleaning up her dishes, she would do this. It seems utterly impossible.
Nate Goddard kissed me.
I
pick up the phone, then put it back down. I lost $20,000 in less than twenty-four hours. If this doesn't prove to my Nana that I am woefully bad with finance, I'm just not sure what will. Sadly, it also proves to Sara that her fears were correct. She even warned me about Kim. How could I be so stupid as to leave the check? It's like leaving a dimebag in front of an addict.
I look around my loft, at the tornado of fabrics thrown around, the table tipped. Kim had to have help in her crime. Even
she
couldn't make this big of a mess, and I'm just glad I really didn't have anything to take. Why would she even leave a mess? She knew where the check was. I can't for the life of me imagine why she left the computer. Maybe as a peace offering. I notice that Nate's espresso machine is gone. He never even said a thing about it. But it's gone, along with the contents of Kim's closet and my money.
I pick up the phone and dial Sara's number. I hear the line ring and Sara's clipped voice, “Hello.”
“Hello!” she says more urgently.
“Sara?”
“Who is this?”
“It's Lilly, Sara. I have bad news.”
“It had better not involve my money. Why are you calling so late? Lina is sleeping, and I don't appreciate you taking such liberties with my private line.”
Oh Lord, where will I ever get this kind of money to pay her back?
“I'm afraid it does involve your money.” My voice is shaking.
“It's not my money anymore. Read the fine print, Lilly. You owe me $20,000, plus interest at the end of the year. No matter what. Is that all?”
“I realize that. I will pay you, but I need for you to try and put a stop-payment on the check. I'm begging you.”
“Lilly, where is the check?”
I hate with all that is in my being to say this. “I think Kim may have taken it, though I'm not certain about that and I don't want to falsely accuse her. I left it here in my loft, soâ”
“I'll call my accountant, but I make no promises. Kim is probably in Mexico right now with what's left of your company. Didn't I warn you, Lilly?”
“You did,” I say like a repentant child.
“Do you think I speak to hear myself babble? Did it ever occur to you that I've been running a successful business for years and that I might know more than you? Perhaps I've seen things in Kim.”
“I'm sorry, Sara. You're right. You obviously know much more than me.”
“Which is why I wanted you in finance.”
I can't help it. I laugh here. “I lost $20,000 in a day. Why on earth would you want me in finance?”
“Because you're honest to a fault, and it's so hard to find an employee to trust with the books. I couldn't trust my own husband, so when I told you to watch out for Kim, didn't you think I might have been speaking from experience?”
“It never even crossed my mind. I've lived with her for two years. I thought we were business partners.”
“See, honest to a fault. Innocents never recognize how harsh the world really is. I'm doing you a favor, Lilly. Take off those rose-colored glasses, or you'll end up the loser every time. Successful people see the world as it really is.”
Another speech on reality.
I hope I never see the world through Sara's eyes, where no one can be trusted and the world is just out to get you. The fact is, yes, Kim stole from me, but at the same time, Nate brought me a brand-new sewing machine and a computer to create my designs. One can view the world through Sara's warped eyes, or one can see the silver lining. I choose silver.
“Please just try to get the check stopped,” I implore. “If the money is gone, it's gone. I'll work around it,” I say, like I have any idea just how that will happen.
“You do realize this isn't my problem,” Sara says.
“I do.”
But for oneâokay, the secondâtime in your life, do
something decent, will you?
“I made a mistake. People make mistakes.”
Luckily, my God is more forgiving than you.
“I don't make mistakes.”
Click.
But I know Sara; she'll do what she can to stop that check. If there's one thing Sara is, it's in control. She will control where her money goes at any cost.
The money is gone, and I have no job. But I have everything in front of me to make a business. I just need to get fabric. Looking around the loft, there is fabric everywhere, and while the combination might make a stellar colorful skirt for Poppy, I'm thinking the couture crowd will probably pass.
The day's angst has worn me out, and I feel my eyelids getting heavy as I think about cleaning up this mess. I fall on my futon and fixate on the orange glow of the streetlight below.
Nate Goddard kissed me. I wonder what that was about?
I wake up to the harsh sunlight beaming through my soaring windows, highlighting the shambles of what's left of my career. There's a knock at the door, and I look at my watch to see it's nine-thirty a.m. Nine-thirty!
I look through the peep hole to see a UPS man with clipboard in hand. I open the door. “Good morning.”
“Morning to you, Miss. I have a package here for Lilly Jacobs.”
“That's me.”
“Sign here.”
I do, and he hands me an enormous package from San Francisco's Jeweler. I rip open the package, and inside there are yards of cream shantung silk. I pull it out, admiring its perfect form and luxurious feel. Underneath it is more crepe paper and another box. I hang the fabric up in my closet and look at the box. It's a brand-new Italian ionic hairdryer like the one at her gym. There's a note pinned to the box:
Lilly,
I hope this hairdryer will make the upcoming winters more
bearable for your gorgeous, thick hair, which you simply
must stop straightening. The silk is for my wedding gown.I know you'll do something incredible, and my father will
provide any seed pearls or crystals you might need. But
something fairly simple, all right?
With love,
Morgan
She can't possibly believe I'm going to design her wedding dress without speaking to her first. I take out the gleaming silver hairdryer.
I choose silver
, I think to myself. I plug it in and feel the power, as even my thick mop blows easily under it. I put the hairdryer aside and start to clean up my loft.
As I finish, I'm just about to spray Lysol when I think of Morgan walking down the aisle with the subtle scent of Mountain Breeze disinfectant in her shantung silk. The phone rings, and I answer it, praying it's Sara with word of my recovered check.
“Lilly, it's Nana.”
I sigh. “Oh hi, Nana.”
“Is that any way to talk to your grandmother?”
“I'm sorry. I just thought you might be someone else.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel good?”
“It's a long story, Nana. What's up?”
“Max fell off a ladder this morning. He's got a broken leg, and I was wondering if you could help me get him home from the hospital.”
“How'd you get there?”
“He drove with his broken leg. Of course, we didn't know it was broken yet, although thinking back, it was bent pretty funny. I'm sure
he
knew it was broken.”
“Nana! Stop. What hospital are you at?”
“Mercy General.”
“I'll be right there. Max has a car, right?”
“Of course, how do you think we got here?”
I hop into my jeans, modeled after Sevens, and oh so well-fitting. I actually appear to be shapely in them. Topping the jeans with a long-sleeve silk T-shirt I made from scraps, I am downright couture. Hospital attire never looked so good. Of course, I'm anxious about Max being on a ladder, as I have little doubt who had him up on the ladder. Can you say,
lawsuit
? The good news? I'm in the hole $20K, and I've got nothing else left to take.
As I walk out the door, Nate is outside about to knock.
My demeanor softens, and I feel a little giddy. “Hi, Nate,” I say girlishly. “Did you have a good sleep?”
“A little. I was up with China most of the night, but I'll get a nap before I have to call London.”
“I know how you feel. I talked to San Francisco last night, and I'm probably going to call Poppy in Cupertino today. It's just overwhelming sometimes. Dialing that 408 area code really gets the better of me.”
“Listen, I just wanted to say no hard feelings about last night, huh?” He doesn't smile.
“Excuse me?”
“You know, we were just both wrapped up in the emotion of the night. I was upset about Kim leaving. I didn't want you to think we couldn't be friends after what happened. All right?”
“Right. Sure.” I try to laugh, but it comes out more like a goose honk. Here I had this great kiss, this magical kiss that I actually dreamed about, and today I'm being told it meant nothing. It was nothing. I
so
don't get men. “George Clooney, here you come, right?”
“No, it's not like that. It's just that we're friends. I don't want to mess with that. I'd do anything for you, Lilly, but it's not like that.”
I thought we already messed with things, but that's me.
“Friends.” I thrust my hand toward him. “I've got to catch the bus. Max and my Nana need a ride home.”
“Do you want me to drive you?”
“No, actually you've done enough already.” He looks at me sulkily here. “With the computer and the sewing machine. You've done quite enough.”
“Right.” He stands in the doorway.
“Excuse me,” I try to walk around him, but we meet chest-to-chest as I do. He looks down at me, and I'd swear he was about to kiss me again, but I move around him. “I'll let you know if I hear from Sara about the check.”
“That would be great.”
“See ya later.”
“Hey, Lilly, I Netflixed
A Fish Called Wanda
. I know it's one of your favorites.”
“Thanks, but I've got to get some work done. Appreciate the offer though.” I try to be as cool as possible, but naturally I don't feel it. I feel jilted, used, and like a complete moron.
After locking the door (all seven locks this time), I start to walk down the hallway. Looking back at Nate, I just want to burst into tears.
That's what a girl gets for giving away the milk
, I hear my Nana taunt.
But Nate had part of my heart all along, I guess. And I never knew it. Oh I know the arguments: he's not a Christian; he doesn't share my faith; we don't have a solid foundation. I know the facts, but tell them to my heart. Because after his kiss? I want nothing more than to forget who I am for Jesus, and be who I want to be for Nate Goddard. He waves me good-bye, and I can't help but think of the one Shakespearean line I remember.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
T
he bus to the hospital seems to consist of several homeless people and myself. Now you might ask, where is my Christian compassion? Shouldn't I be handing out sandwiches and used coats? But those questions are irrelevant, because of course, you cannot smell what I smell. And they do not allow Lysol on the bus. I've tried before. I don't imagine Calcutta smelled much better, but Mother Teresa was a better woman than I.
Once I'm on the BART train, the world looksâokay, smellsâa little brighter, and I'm dropped off right in front of Mercy General. I tuck my sketch book under my arm and head to the emergency room.
I used the time on public transportation and actually did some drawings that I think might work for my collection. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking of Morgan's lithe figure and how it will look best in a wedding gown. She could wear any style she wished, but I want the gown to be perfect. More than that, I want the groom to be perfect, and that aspect definitely needs work.
I walk into the emergency room which is a zoo, like something out of the
Animal House
movie. I almost expect to hear, “Food fight!” There's so much activity. Kids are screaming, moms are spanking, wives and husbands are fighting, patients are yelling at nurses. It's like one of those disaster movies where they've just announced the world is being nuked in five minutes, and there are four spots left in the bunker.
I see my Nana sheepishly sitting in the corner with Max in a full cast up to his thigh.
“I could have driven,” Max says when he sees me. “It's probably a lot less dangerous than sitting here like decoys. But of course, we had to wait for you once you'd started.”
“You're welcome,” I say. “How's your leg?”
“Broken in three places.”
I cringe. “Don't tell me anymore. Here, let me help you up.”
“I can get up.” Max pushes himself up off the arms of the waiting room chair. He looks down at me, annoyed that he should be so babied.
Hey, you know, I didn't exactly sign up for
this gig.
“Where's Valeria?” I ask and see Nana shake her head.
Max just rolls his eyes. “Let's get to the car. I don't want to be on this leg too long.”
We start to walk to his car, which I'm picturing as a Pinto or an Escort or something equally in poor taste, and he stops at a sterling silver Jaguar.
“This is your car?”
Dang, the TV critic business pays all right.
“I didn't pick it out, if that's what you're thinking,” Max groans as he tries to maneuver into the backseat.
“Nana can sit back there, Max. It's your car. Why wouldn't I think you picked it out? I picked out the bus and hold myself fully responsible for the choice.”
