Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Emmy arrived at her apartment with a bag from the uber-hip Luminari Italian restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, having met the delivery driver outside her apartment.
She’d taken Talia’s suggestion for both the restaurant and the raviolo d’oro, a single oversized saffron-infused raviolo filled with a decadent blend of ricotta and black truffle, drizzled with aged Parmigiano-Reggiano fonduta and topped with edible gold flakes.
Sure, why not?
She scooted up to her dinette with the extravagant dish, contemplating Mr. Augustine’s offer. If she thought The Moreau Agency was over the top and out of her economic league in almost every way, Harlow and Ash was on another level entirely.
Emmy didn’t have a clue why Mr. Augustine hadn’t been in her mother’s contacts. Things had moved so quickly that she hadn’t had time to consider one of her original questions: What if he wasn’t a very nice person?
She opened the take-out dish, the savory, cheesy scent filling the room.
Was she only considering the offer out of sheer desperation? The truth of the matter was, she didn’t have any other options. She’d gotten no callbacks on her emails and job applications.
But what did she know about this guy? He seemed nice enough. Right?
Emmy cut into the raviolo, the thick sauce pooling around her bite, and then popped it into her mouth.
She was momentarily distracted by the velvety nutty sauce and the deep woodsy, garlicky musk of the black truffle filling.
She’d never tasted anything with this level of complexity.
Apart from Vivienne’s sushi leftovers, she was mostly a home-cooked-pizza girl.
Wait. Vivienne studied in Paris with her mother. Would she know Mitchell Augustine? Maybe Vivienne could give her some insight into who the man was.
She set down her fork and opened a text to her old boss, asking if she could give her a ring.
Right away, Emmy’s phone went off.
“Hello?” she answered.
“It’s Viv. How are you—everything okay?”
“I’m fine. I actually called to ask if you knew someone. He offered me a job.”
“Oh, who?”
“His name is Mitchell Augustine.”
There was a clatter and muffled babble. “Sorry. I dropped the phone. Who is it?” Vivienne laughed. “For a minute, I thought you said Mitchell Augustine.” She laughed again.
“Yes, I did say Mitchell Augustine.”
Vivienne cleared her throat. “The designer?”
“Yes.” Was it so hard to believe that Emmy could score a job worth something? Okay, it was Harlow and Ash. Fair enough; Vivienne’s response was an honest reaction.
“How? How do you know him?”
“Mom wrote his and his wife’s name on the back of one of her drawings.”
“Oh, really... Remind me. What was his wife’s name?”
“Mom just had ‘Mrs. Augustine.’”
“I see.”
Emmy covered her dinner so it wouldn’t get cold.
“I won’t keep you, but I just wondered if you knew him at all, having been in Paris with my mother. Is he a decent person? He wants me to be his apprentice, so I’d kind of like to know.”
“I’m not surprised that you’re following in your mother’s footsteps,” Vivienne said. “And I’m elated, to be honest. Design will suit you.”
That was the first time Vivienne had ever said something so positive and encouraging to her.
Emmy had thought Vivienne hadn’t noticed her.
She’d always felt overlooked. But then, the few times Vivienne had offered her extra assignments, they’d been for her designer clients. Had Vivienne seen something in her?
“Is he a good man?” she asked again.
“Yes, he’s a decent person.”
Relief flooded Emmy. “Oh, good.”
“But…”
No. There can’t be a “but.” “But what?”
The line went quiet. Then, finally, Vivienne said, “Never mind. You’ll be fine.”
Emmy’s bite of raviolo sat heavily in her stomach. “What does that mean?”
“He’s a very nice person, Emmy. You will be fine working under him.”
Did Vivienne doubt her skills? Was that the “but”?
“Your mom would be so proud.”
Emmy’s hardened shell crumbled at the mention of her mom.
Would she be proud? What would she think of Mitchell coming into Emmy’s life?
For so long, Emmy had wanted to know about that time in her mother’s young adulthood, and now, it was as if her mom’s old life was merging with Emmy’s new one.
Maybe this was exactly the right move for her.
“Thanks for letting me know he’s an okay guy,” Emmy said.
“Of course. Call me any time.”
Emmy squinted at her phone and then put it back to her ear. That didn’t sound like Vivienne. She’d been weird ever since Emmy told her she was quitting. Had she realized the error of her ways?
“Any other questions I can answer, feel free to call.”
“Actually,” Emmy said, “there is something.”
“What is it?”
“I found a note in a beaded clutch of my mom’s. I think it was from Mr. Augustine. It just said, ‘Meet me on Rue des Lumières d’Automne at 8 p.m.’ Do you know what’s on that street, Rue des Lumières?”
Vivienne let out a nostalgic chuckle. “Rain. Lots of rain.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing there anymore, dear.”
“Okaaaay.”
“I’ve gotta run. But... congratulations. Your life begins now, it seems.”
Emmy got off the phone feeling more confused than she had been before the call.
She opened her computer, typed in the French street name, clicked street view, and dragged the photo around.
It was just a side street from the look of it.
Tall, narrow limestone buildings, adorned with wrought-iron balconies and windows framed by shutters, lined a tight, cobbled street.
But other than that, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Maybe that was what Vivienne had meant—just rain; nothing there anymore.
Late that evening, Emmy washed off her makeup, put on her pajamas, and climbed into bed.
Still not feeling entirely sure about the job, she decided to call Charlie to hear a friendly voice. She took her phone off her nightstand and dialed his number.
He answered immediately. “I was hoping you’d call.”
She brightened. “You were?”
“Yes. I’m dying to hear about the designer.”
Before long, she was blabbering on, dishing everything—even her call to Vivienne.
“It sounds almost too good to be true,” she said.
“And it would mean that I’d stay in New York, but I’m not sure I want to stay here.
I’d sort of gotten my mind around moving, and my lease is up.
” She dared not admit that Wyoming had crossed her mind.
“Well, you know I’m not the one to offer advice.”
She fluffed her pillow and lay back on it. “Why not?”
“Because working for a New York designer sounds like an incredible opportunity.”
She took in a deep breath and let it out.
“Will this job make you happy?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” he said.
“Even though you don’t have the answer for me, I feel so much better after talking to you.”
“I’m glad.”
She could sense his smile on the other end, and it gave her a flutter of excitement.
She and Charlie weren’t a thing, but she could see something developing with him.
And if they did move past the friend zone, she faced the same dilemma as her mother: Would she give it all up and chase Charlie somewhere else?
She had to pursue this opportunity with Mitchell first. In a way, it was as if her mom were leading her somewhere she couldn’t see yet.
Chances to work under one of New York’s top designers didn’t just fall out of the sky.
It was as if the change in career was meant for her. She had to see where it led.