25. Natalie
NATALIE
My tension headache kicked up the minute I got to the front doors.
I’d always loved the feeling I got when I walked into Branson, but ever since things went to hell with James, it felt like I was walking into a bad dream every damn day. I still loved the work and my colleagues, but his ghost lingering everywhere made it impossible to move past my broken heart.
There were too many good memories. The sidewalk out front where he’d made me the offer that changed my life. The copy room where he’d stolen kisses. And of course his office, where we’d swept everything off of his desk and made love on top of it.
No, correction. We’d been fucking, not making love. James had made that fact abundantly clear.
My phone was buzzing even though it was barely past seven.
I’d started showing up earlier and earlier since my work had tripled, and it felt like the whole world knew it.
I scanned it and saw two confirmations for initial interviews for Lorraine’s position, as well as four messages from Lavonte.
I wasn’t his boss but ever since James left, he sure treated me as if I was.
Everyone in the department did. There’d been no official announcement, but since my triumph with the couture show, the creative team considered me a leader.
We still had the Pantone project in the works, as well as our regular seasonal schedule.
Ever since the show, people had been clamoring for the ready-to-wear versions of what we’d shown on the runway, which added an extra layer of work.
And stress.
I wished I had time to slow down and figure out what the hell my life had become, but the pace at Branson was relentless, especially with the way sales had shot up since the show. As much as I hated the man behind the name, I was proud of what Branson Designs produced. I loved being a part of it.
“You’re here!” a voice rang out as I walked into the room.
Lavonte, also in early and raring to go. He rushed over to me, clutching his tablet.
“Good morning,” I said warily, because Lavonte liked to talk and while I loved that about him, I currently had way too much to do.
“My dear, all I need is a tiny little baby signature on this here design,” he said, handing me his tablet. “Once you approve it, we’re off to patterning.”
“I’ve told you, my signature doesn’t matter.” I sighed. “I haven’t been promoted, I’m just a designer, like you.”
He was shaking his head before I finished.
“Nope, you’re so much more than that and you know it.
James believes in you, and we all do too.
And someone has to sign off on our stuff, or nothing will get made.
It’s not like Herb in billing can do it, am I right?
So, you’re the chosen one, baby!” He tapped the screen. “Signature, please.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked to sign off on a new design.
I felt like a fraud every time. But the more people came to me the clearer it became that I was the one shaping the vision for Branson’s next launch, by proxy.
I’d almost thrown up when I realized the power I’d accidentally been given.
My decisions were going to end up on hangers across the country.
It was a responsibility I had never wanted.
And what was worse, it was pulling me away from the stuff I really loved: designing.
I felt like I hadn’t picked up my pencils in weeks.
My fingers ached to sketch, not just because design was everything to me, but also because it kept my mind from wandering.
When I was getting lost in a design, I didn’t have the bandwidth to think about my fractured heart.
“You don’t like it?” Lavonte pouted, glancing from his tablet to my face.
“I’m sorry, it’s great,” I said quickly and scrawled my name on the bottom of the screen. “You never miss.”
I could feel someone watching us, so I glanced up.
“Gotcha,” Calliope said, staring at her phone. “This photo is going to be part of a Reel that teases what’s coming up.” She frowned, still staring at her phone. “Natalie, it might help if you smiled. Can we take it again?”
Smiling for real required too much work, but I managed to plaster on a fake one for her until she got the spontaneous-but-posed shot she needed. My face had been showing up on the Branson social media feeds more and more, but there was no need to keep trying to connect me to the brand.
I was leaving as soon as I found a place to land. Calliope needed to stop featuring me, because I was getting the hell out as fast as I could.
Not that I’d told anyone yet. But I’d started assembling my new and improved resume and doing research on other design houses that might be a fit for me.
I needed to be long gone by the time James came back.
I’d tried envisioning how things would go once his leave of absence ended, and being civil to him didn’t feel possible.
For now, I had to focus on the present. My day kicked into overdrive, and I felt pulled in a million different directions. The sad fact was none of them fulfilled me the way designing always had.
“Look at that frown! Is something wrong? What can I help you with?”
Rhea had shown up by my desk and was staring at me with a worried expression.
“Hey there. Thanks, but there’s nothing I can delegate right now.” I rolled my neck in a circle and stretched my arms out in front of me. “How is it already lunchtime?”
“You’ve had your head down for hours.” Rhea moved closer. “I hate seeing you so tense.”
“The work needs to get done, and we’re down three people, so…” I gestured to the piles on my desk.
“Not having James around is tough.” Rhea gave me a pointed look, but I refused to take the bait.
People probably had a million theories about what had gone on between me and James, but no one dared to ask about it directly, which I appreciated. We were there to do a job, not speculate on my love life.
Not that it was ever really love.
“Oh my,” Rhea muttered, staring past me. “What is she doing here?”
I looked over my shoulder and spotted none other than Bernie gliding through the room towards us, hair in a perfect updo and wearing one of our not-yet-released deconstructed designs. A few people clapped as she walked by.
“Rhea, darling,” Bernie said, wrapping her in a quick hug. “The rock of Branson.”
“If you’re suggesting that I’ve been around since the Stone Age, you’re right.” She laughed as they pulled apart.
“And Natalie.” Bernie reached out to squeeze my hand, giving me a warm smile. “Just the person I need to see.”
A worried feeling rolled around my stomach. Why had Bernie come to the office to see me? She never came to the office. What had blown up now?
“I hope you don’t have plans for lunch…” she said, eyeing me carefully.
“Me?” I pointed at myself and looked around feeling even more confused.
She laughed. “Yes, you, silly!”
Was I allowed to tell the founder of the company that I couldn’t join her for lunch because I was too busy?
“I, uh, I’m…I think…” I watched as Bernie’s expression turned confused. I know I looked like an absolute mess with my hair shoved in a ponytail, and I’d probably stick out at whichever fancy restaurant she picked. “Sure,” I finally said. “I can grab a quick lunch with you. That would be wonderful.”
“Fabulous! Meet me downstairs in five. The driver is waiting for us.”
“You’re in for a treat,” Rhea said as we watched Bernie float away. “Every meal is a celebration in Bernie’s world.”
If only I felt like celebrating.
A short time later we pulled up to a nondescript brick building, and I noticed that there were no restaurants for blocks.
“Here we are,” Bernie sang out. “This way.”
I followed her into the building and tried to hide my shock at the tiny anteroom. The place was ancient, with no signs of life. She slid open the door to a closet-sized elevator that looked downright dangerous.
“It won’t fall, I promise.” She paused. “At least I don’t think so.”
I got on and crossed my fingers.
“Where are we?” I asked as the rickety thing climbed slowly.
“Just one more minute and you’ll see.”
The elevator door finally opened to a massive white expanse, packed with rolling clothing racks. It had the vibe of a spotless medical facility.
“Hold on…” I glanced at one of the racks and saw the Branson logo beneath a number on a garment bag.
“Welcome to the original home of Branson Designs, which now serves as our vault!”
Bernie strode ahead of me with her arms outstretched like a spokesmodel.
“You mean…they’re all here?” I looked around with my mouth hanging open. I spotted some of the more elaborate designs encased in glass, like they were part of a museum display. “This is where you started the business?”
“James mentioned that you wanted to see the collection I have at my Hamptons home, but we ran out of time. And I figured this one was better, anyway. Ninety percent of our work lives here.”
I tried not to frown at the mention of his name.
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that you wanted to get your paws on the actual work, and not just the sketches, so we’re going to do just that. After we eat. Now come this way.”
Bernie beckoned me to follow her, and we rounded the corner to a table set with a creamy white tablecloth and fine china.
“My friends at Le Bernadin whipped up lunch for us, so please sit.”
I plopped down on the chair still overwhelmed by what was happening. Was it all for me?
“Is someone joining us?” I asked, feeling butterflies starting a riot in my chest when I noticed the third place setting.
Not James. Please no. I couldn’t handle seeing him right now, especially with Bernie there to witness how bad things would undoubtedly get. Bernie had only seen my sweet side; I wasn’t about to let James bring out the beast in front of her.
“Yes, we have one more coming.” Bernie studied my face. “Kathleen will be here shortly.”
I tried not to show my shock. The elusive Kathleen Branson was coming to a lunch with little old me? What the hell was going on?