Chapter 26
Devon
*Primary Bath Selections – McCoy Ranch
*Call Nathalie back
- From Devon’s to-do list, September 2nd
A Designer to Avoid—The headline of Nathalie’s blog post reads. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read it all the way through yet, getting hung up after the first two lines.
Devon Blake of Friday West Interiors is ruining the good name of interior design in Palm Springs. Trina Boatswain, her former employer and an icon in the national design community, has been cleaning up Devon’s messes since the day she left Trina in a lurch to start her own company.
Rhett does not pry, just helps me pack and gets me in his truck as quickly as possible.
Once we’re on the road, I try to explain, “There was this, um, this blogger.” I am shaken, and the words come out weak.
“You don’t have to explain unless you want to talk about it,” he reassures me, telling me Luke texted him while we were loading up the truck to fill him in. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I do not even want to think about it. This is a literal nightmare. I am pretty sure I’ve woken up in a cold sweat after dreaming this exact scenario. This cannot be happening. He takes my non-response as an answer, turning music on and giving me leave to process on my own. His eyes are focused on the road, but his solid, silent presence is a comfort.
How did this happen?I liked Nathalie. I thought she liked me. We had a lovely conversation, and she asked very thorough questions about how I started Friday West. Shit. Is that why she interviewed me? For information about how I left Trina? Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of journalistic integrity in blogging?
My phone buzzes with yet another text.
Allie: Luke says Rhett says he’s bringing you home. We’re all at the house.
Me: Thanks for being there.
Bea: We’ll handle this together. Everything’s gonna be okay.
Sadie: Love you.
I have to finish reading this blog to know what I am truly up against. But if I read it, it’s real. In about twenty minutes, Rhett and I will be pulling into my driveway. I give myself that time to sit in denial and pretend this isn’t as bad as it seems. Rhett keeps up his habit of giving me the space I need while I stare out the window.
When we pull into my neighborhood, my stomach sinks for a number of reasons. As soon as I walk in that door, I have to face this disaster. But it also means my vacation with Rhett is over. I ended it so abruptly, cut it short, and I wanted more time. We didn’t talk about how things between us are going to be now that our two weeks are over, and I cannot afford to focus on it now. He senses me watching him and gives me a comforting smile, reaching across to squeeze my hand.
“Can I have a minute?” I ask when he shifts into park.
“Whatever you need,” he says.
“Everyone is inside, and I am positive Sadie’s been stress baking all day, so there should be good food. I’ll be inside in a few.”
He leans across to kiss me, and it’s not the soft, sweet, comforting kiss I expected, but a fervent claiming instead. “We will get through this together,” he says, then leaves me alone in the car like I asked. Whew. The butterflies in my stomach are a brief reprieve to the twisting knot of dread that’s been there since I checked my phone.
Nathalie’s message is up first. Her voice, that I once found sweet but is now grating, comes through the phone. “Devon! Hi, it’s Nathalie from Live Your Best Life in Palm Springs. I had a question about your time with Trina Boatswain. Give me a call soon.” What question could she possibly have had that brought her to the conclusion that I’m ruining the good name of design in Palm Springs when it went unanswered?
Time to find out.
The blog isn’t overly long, but it is filled with accusations, half-truths, and flat-out lies, all supported with quotes from Trina and strategically placed quotes of mine.
A quote from me, saying “Small commercial projects like bars are some of my favorites because they allow for a different level of creativity.” Followed by a quote from Trina, “The owners of a local bar recently had to hire me to take over a remodel Devon was grossly mishandling. The project was in such disarray, I had to work overtime to get it fixed in time for their opening.” Nathalie follows it up with “Trina declined to share the business name, but she recently finished designs for Lemon + Sway, Canary’s Call, and Persuasion.”
I had nothing to do with Canary’s Call or Persuasion, and frankly I still do not understand what happened with Lemon + Sway. It was going smoothly, and the clients were loving everything until they said their investors wanted to go in a different direction. Now I’m sure Trina did something slimy to steal it from me.
A quote from me, “Working for Trina Boatswain taught me invaluable lessons. She has a wonderful design team, and I am always impressed with their work.” Which I said to be nice because I would never want to speak poorly about someone else publicly, even if it is true. Followed by a quote from Trina, “I took a chance on her straight out of college because of her eagerness to work for me, and it turned out to be one of the few regrets of my career.”
Nathalie alleges that I worked on the Turbine Café project using Trina Boatswain Interior Design resources and time. Not true. I barely slept for months working nights and weekends to make that happen. Next, she says I stole the follow up project up of Voyeur Café from her. Oh, please.
Perhaps the most disturbing part is a lengthy anonymous quote about a house that flooded due to my negligence. She has to be talking about the Calle Vista house, but their insurance is paying for the damages, and I am on good terms with those homeowners. Last I checked, they were working with their plumber to get a final answer on the cause of the leak and how to ensure it won’t happen again. I cannot imagine them throwing me under the bus like this. What point would it serve?
Nathalie wraps the blog up with a quote from me, “Running my own design firm is a dream come true, one I have been working toward my whole life.” Followed by a quote from Trina, “Devon is a sweet girl, and I always thought she was a good designer. But she’s been destroying people’s homes with her lack of experience and skill. I sadly could not in good conscience recommend anyone trust her with their design. It’s important to double-check every detail. With a team as small as Friday West Interiors, there just isn’t enough help to make that happen.”
The whole thing reads like an advertisement for Trina and a complete drag of me and Friday West.
Well, that cured my denial. Now I’m angry and determined.
The front door opens before I have even made it up the driveway. Allie rushes past Rhett, who is evidently the one who saw me coming and opened the door. She wraps me in a tight hug, and I melt into it a little bit. My business may be crumbling before my eyes, but I am not alone. She keeps an arm around my waist as we walk in together.
“So, fuck Trina and Nathalie, right?” Allie’s voice echoes off the driveway and into the street.
I crack a smile, then whisper, “Right.”
Her eyes light up. “You agreed with me? Ooh, you really are pissed. This is excellent.”
“Excellent?” I ask.
“You need to be fired up to kick ass about this,” she says as we walk into the house.
Before anyone else can hug me, console me, or curse my enemies, Rhett wraps his arm around my waist and places a soft kiss to my temple.
My brows shoot up in surprise, and Sadie says, “Aww, you guys!” When I glance to the group, my little living room is stuffed full of my favorite faces, and they are all watching us.
Rhett tilts his head closer to mine. “You told them we’re sleeping together. I figured it’s okay if they see me kiss your forehead.”
“You guys couldn’t be cool for ten minutes? What did you say to him?” I laugh, and it cracks a little of the tension in my chest.
“We had to let him know what’s up,” Sadie says.
“I got a very thorough break your heart and I’ll break your neck talking to,” Rhett tells me as he ushers me to an empty spot on the sectional between Sadie and Bea. “A little surprising since they’re the ones who dropped you in the desert with me in the first place.”
“They are a fierce group of women,” I say, admiring my friends. “You probably shouldn’t cross them.”
“Not just the women,” Rhett’s eyes widen, tilting his head toward Luke who shrugs, grunts, and looks away.
Bea reaches across the sectional and squeezes my hand. “Hey boss lady. Glad to have you back. You ready to dive into this?”
Allie hands me an espresso martini, saying, “Coffee and booze.”
I take a grateful sip and let out a sigh. “Let’s get into it. Have you all read it?”
Rhett’s the only one who answers in the negative, and someone texts him the link.
“Obviously, it’s not all true,” I say.
“Not all true,” Allie scoffs, her signature ponytail bouncing when she sneers in the general direction of Trina’s office. “More like it’s all bullshit.”
A heavy, furry head brushes my leg, and I gasp in surprise. Betty has wedged herself between the sofa and the coffee table, and she’s using my feet as a pillow.
“Oh yeah, the dogs are here,” Allie explains, pointing to the back yard. “The other two are out there.”
I scratch the sweet dog behind her ears, her presence another layer of comfort that eases just a little of the tension. “But anyway, it’s out there,” I continue, “and it is the first thing that comes up when you search my name or Friday West.”
“I can work on that,” Sadie says. “It’s not my expertise, but I have a coworker I can ask for help. Might cost a bit, but I can fix it.”
“Amazing, Sadie’s on SEO,” Bea says, writing in a notebook I hadn’t noticed she was holding.
Leaning forward, I ask, “What is that?”
“It’s our team to-do list.” Team. She’s the only one who even works for me, but there are multiple things listed under each name. “Want to know what we have so far?”
“Yes, but first, it is time I be honest about something, so you all have the full picture.” I look to Bea, “No matter what, I am not losing you and you do not have to worry about your job.” The most important thing to me is that she can trust me to follow through on the commitments I’ve made to her as an employer. I especially never want to be like Trina in that regard.
She shrugs, a warm look in her hazel eyes. “Not worried about it.” Bea is not someone who is easily bothered, and she has a level of confidence I strive to replicate. She’s not someone who relies on anyone else, even when she can. Something tells me she has a backup plan for herself if Friday West truly crumbles.
“Financially,” I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. Rhett meets my eyes across the room and nods in encouragement. “Friday West is in trouble. With the projects we currently have, we only have about three months left.”
My heart beats wildly in my chest, and my eyes bounce around from Allie, Sadie, Bea, and even Luke. Not a drop of judgment to be found. No hurt at the fact that I’ve been keeping a secret. No scolding. Just mixes of surprise, concern, and understanding.
Perhaps it’s the intense standards my mom holds herself and everyone else to, but this is not at all what I was expecting. Guilt roils in my stomach, mixing with the stress and dread that are already there.
Bea tilts her head at me furrowing her brows. “You really think I didn’t know that already?” I shrug. The only thing Bea doesn’t have access to is accounting. I should have realized she would be observant enough to piece it together, but I was too worried about her reaction to think about that logically.
“Devon,” Allie says, “no one’s mad at you. Shit happens, and it’s hard to admit when things aren’t going as well as we want them to.” Her words plant another tiny seed of relief.
Rhett looks up from his phone, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. “Anything on the list for me?” he asks, and by the tone of his voice, he must have just finished reading the blog. This might be the first time I have ever seen him truly angry, but when he looks at me, he still flashes me a comforting smile.
“Yes, actually,” Bea says. “How soon can you get the cabinets done for the Peach Ridge house? He’s our newest client, and we want to do whatever we can to give him an exceptional experience in case he sees the blog and wants to pull out. If we can get their kitchen done ahead of schedule, it would go a long way.”
“I can start on them in the morning,” he says. Looking to me, he asks, “Do you have the plans ready?”
“I’ll send them before I go to bed tonight.” His brow quirks when I say I instead of we, and I give him a tiny nod. “We finalized them right before I got kidnapped into the desert.”
“We did not kidnap you,” Allie protests, and the mood in the room lightens a little bit more.
“Oh my goodness!” Sadie gasps. “I have so many treats for you, and I forgot to bring them out.” She returns from the kitchen with homemade soft pretzels, three dips, cookies, bread, and a dozen cupcakes. “I was really worried about you,” she explains.
Bea fills me in on the existing plan as we all indulge in Sadie’s little carb buffet. Betty rouses from her nap and works her way around the room to convince us to sneak her bites. She’s successful with everyone but Luke.
“How big of a deal is this blog?” Luke asks, shooting Allie a scolding look as Betty licks cheese dip from her fingers. “Do many people actually read it?”
“Unfortunately, she’s the most popular local voice,” Bea says. “Although, now I’m wondering how many of her recommendations are bullshit.”
“Probably most of them,” Allie answers. “She’s the reason I’m stuck with the damn cookie explosion.” The cookie explosion is a drink Allie had on her menu years ago, but it’s a pain in the ass to make, so she took it off. Nathalie included it in a round-up of things to eat in Palm Springs or something like that, so people never stopped ordering it.
She’s been complaining about it for years, which makes me wonder, “How long ago was that?”
“Like almost five years,” Allie breathes out, irritated. “Her stuff has a way of staying popular.” Well, that’s lovely. Of course, it was the reason I agreed to the interview in the first place. A good recommendation from her would have gone a long way to helping us. Allie realizes what she said and tries to backtrack. “Oh my god. I’m sure that article was an anomaly though. I doubt anyone will read this after a couple days.”
“How did this end up happening, anyway?” Sadie asks, peeling back the paper on a cupcake. “What did she tell you she was interviewing you for?”
“It was supposed to be a highlight of women entrepreneurs in Palm Springs,” I explain. “I should have done a better job researching her.”
Before I can spiral into self-deprecation over getting myself into this mess, Bea says, “That’s actually a really good idea for a blog. Does anyone know of any other local writers?”
“Not yet,” Allie says, sitting up straighter from her place on the ground where she has been leaning against Luke’s legs. “But I’ll ask every person who comes through Turbine until I find one.” I doubt her declaration is hyperbole. Bea adds it to the list.
Rhett, who’s been quietly allowing the conversation to carry on without him, speaks up, “What was the interview with Nathalie like?”
The memory flashes back to me, and the pieces start to fall together. “Do you remember that day I ran into you after you were meeting with Trina?” I ask.
“I remember. You were all flustered and adorable,” he says, then seems to remember we aren’t the only ones here. “But I wasn’t meeting with her. She was actually wrapping up a meeting with someone else, and we both happened to be at the same coffee shop. We were just talking on the way to the parking lot when you ran into us.”
“What were you doing at a coffee shop other than Turbine?” Allie asks, spinning on him.
Bea tilts her head toward Allie. “Is that really the most pressing thing?” But I appreciate her pulling the focus away from me, even if it is just for a moment.
“I was on the other side of town,” Rhett explains placatingly. “I’d much rather have Turbine coffee. It’s the best in town.”
“Coffee travels,” Allie points a finger at Rhett. “We have these things called to-go cups, and mine are biodegradable.”
Rhett apologizes, promising never to get coffee anywhere else in town again with far more seriousness than the accusation deserves.
“Whatever, I can’t stay mad at you,” she smiles brightly at him, then turns to me. “Okay, so tell your story.”
“Thanks for the permission.” I smile, then ask Rhett, “Was the person Trina met with a dark-haired woman, fair skin, a few inches shorter than me, wearing a robin’s egg blue dress?”
Rhett looks up, trying to recall the memory. “Yeah, I think so.”
“That was Nathalie,” I say. “I met with her after I saw you and Trina.”
A little chorus of ooh’s echoes around the room.
“I wonder if the whole thing was Trina’s idea.” Bea says, “Or if Nathalie decided to put it together after meeting with you both.”
“She did ask a lot of questions about my years working for Trina, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. It may sound a little unhinged, but I’ve believed for a while that Trina’s purposely trying to take down Friday West. She did not take it well when I left.” I share the details of each partial piece of evidence I have that brought me to the conclusion, the transparency with my friends coming more naturally as the night wears on.
The plan we put together is surprisingly solid, and it is much more thorough than what I would have been able to come up with on my own. I’m not looking forward to facing it, or having to talk to my mother about it, but I’m trying to believe in the spark of hope my friends have lit for me.