Chapter 9
MAGGIE
Maggie sat at the wide drafting table in the back office of her boutique, a soft pencil in her hand, and lost herself in the gentle curve of a neckline.
It was the only thing all morning that had managed to push Michael Heart out of her head.
The sketch in front of her was for a wedding gown, and not an ordinary one.
The client was a young actress whose name Maggie was contractually forbidden from saying aloud to anyone, including her own assistants, and the gown had to be perfect.
Off the shoulder. A bodice of hand-beaded lace that would take one of Maggie's sewists three weeks alone.
A skirt that fell like water. Maggie had been refining the same six inches of neckline for half an hour, and she was nearly there.
Her boutique had built its name on gowns like this.
But Maggie's Bridal and Couture had never been only about wedding dresses, whatever the sign out front suggested.
She designed elegant everyday wear for the women of Sweet Blossom Bay and the wealthier set who summered along the coast. She did special-occasion pieces, gala gowns, mother-of-the-bride dresses that made women cry in the fitting mirror.
And she did custom work, one of a kind, for clients who wanted something no one else on earth would ever wear.
It was the custom work she loved most. It was the custom work that had made her boutique the quiet jewel it was.
Maggie softened the line of the shoulder with the side of her pencil and finally sat back, satisfied.
"There," Maggie murmured to the empty office. "That's the one."
A burst of raised voices reached her from the front of the store.
Maggie's pencil stilled.
She heard one of her assistants, Brianna, saying something in the bright, firm tone she used for difficult customers. Then another voice cut over the top of it, sweet and high and unmistakable, and Maggie felt her stomach drop straight through the floor.
She glanced at the small monitor mounted on the office wall, the one that fed from the camera over the front counter.
Vanessa, her soon-to-be ex-husband's girlfriend. She glanced at the envelope on her desk. Or, informal fiancée. She shuddered as she thought of the wedding invitation to their end-of-year wedding. As if she’d go to that.
Of course it was Vanessa.
Maggie closed her eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath. She did not need this today. She did not need this any day, but she especially did not need it today, with Michael's breakfast still warm in her memory and her heart in the state it was in.
She made herself move. She covered the actress's gown sketch with a clean sheet of tissue, slid it and her sketchbook into the wall safe behind the cabinet, and turned the dial until it locked with a soft click. Whatever Vanessa wanted, she was not getting within ten feet of that design.
Maggie smoothed her blouse, lifted her chin, and walked out to the front of her boutique with a calm, pleasant smile fixed firmly in place.
"Vanessa," Maggie greeted her. "What brings you here today?"
Vanessa turned from the counter, where she’d been leaning much too close to poor Brianna, and lit up with a smile that did not come within a mile of her eyes when she saw Maggie.
"Maggie," Vanessa cooed. "Finally. I was beginning to think your shop assistants were going to keep me standing here all day."
"Brianna, thank you," Maggie said, with a small nod that sent her grateful assistant retreating toward the stockroom. "I'll take care of Vanessa myself."
"I should hope so," Vanessa said. "We're practically family, after all."
Maggie kept her smile exactly where it was.
"What can I do for you?" Maggie asked.
Vanessa wandered a few steps along a rack of summer dresses, trailing one manicured finger across the fabric in a way that made Maggie want to slap her hand off it.
"Well," Vanessa began, "I've left you three messages this week, and you haven't answered a single one. I was starting to feel quite ignored."
"I've been busy," Maggie answered. "It's the height of the season."
"So I see." Vanessa's eyes flicked around the boutique, pricing everything. "I wanted to talk to you about the wedding. The Christmas wedding. Now that the invitations are out, and we're starting to firm up the wedding party, and naturally, we'd love to have Toby there."
Maggie did not let her smile slip.
"That's kind of you," Maggie said. "But Toby and I already have plans for the holidays. We won't be able to attend as I already RSVP’d."
Vanessa's eyes flashed angrily for a second, but she just as quickly composed herself.
"Plans," Vanessa repeated. “I think you should reconsider your plans because Kevin needs to have Toby there on his big day.”
"I’m sorry, but you already have our reply," Maggie told her. "We always go away over Christmas. It's a tradition. Toby looks forward to it all year."
That was not strictly true, but Maggie would happily invent a tradition on the spot rather than send her grandson within a hundred miles of Kevin's wedding.
Vanessa's voice cooled by several degrees.
"Kevin will be very disappointed," Vanessa said. "He's been telling everyone how much he's looking forward to having his grandson there. It would look very strange for Toby not to come. People will ask questions."
There it was. Maggie kept her face pleasant and her tone level.
"I'm sure Kevin will manage just as well without Toby there," Maggie said. “I’m sure you’ll hardly notice his absence. Just like when he used to stay with Kevin for a weekend before.”
"I don't think you understand." Vanessa set her fake designer handbag down on the counter with a small, deliberate thump.
"This matters to Kevin. A great deal. And if it comes to that, we can always have our attorney formally raise the question of Toby's attendance. Grandparents do have rights, you know."
A few months ago, that single sentence would have turned Maggie's stomach to ice.
Today, it did nothing of the kind. Maggie thought of the file she had handed Michael across a café table that morning, every page labeled, tabbed, and dated.
For the first time in two years, Maggie felt completely and gloriously unafraid.
"You're welcome to have your attorney raise whatever he likes," Maggie said pleasantly.
"Kevin signed away every claim to Toby two years ago. He has no guardianship rights, no visitation rights, and no standing to demand anything regarding my grandson. Your attorney will tell you exactly that, the moment you ask him. So please, by all means, go ahead. It’s your money. "
Vanessa's mouth opened, then closed.
"Well," Vanessa said finally. "Aren't you confident today?"
"I'm just being honest with you," Maggie answered. "It saves everyone time."
Vanessa recovered with the speed of a woman who had talked her way out of tighter corners. She turned away from the subject of Toby as though it had never come up and let her gaze drift toward the back of the boutique, toward the office door Maggie had just come through.
"I hear you're designing for someone very exciting," Vanessa said, her voice turning silky. "A little bird told me. Somebody quite famous. I'd love a peek."
"I'm afraid not," Maggie said.
"Oh, come on, Maggie. Who am I going to tell?" Vanessa feigned outrage. “My goodness, after everything we’ve been through together, you still don’t trust me.”
“Vanessa,” Maggie said, folding her arms. “While you’re… my soon-to-be ex-husband's girlfriend…”
“Fiancée,” Vanessa corrected her.
“Fiancée then,” Maggie added. “I don’t know where you’ve gotten the impression we’re friends.”
Her eyes widened in genuine shock for an instant, making Maggie’s brows rise. Did she really think they were anything like friends?
"Whatever!” Vanessa waved it off before pressing, “I just want a tiny look." She raised her chin. “Who knows? Maybe I could make some suggestions that will make your client happy. I hear she’s not that happy with what you designed initially.”
“I don’t know who your source is,” Maggie told her. “But you shouldn’t listen to them as they clearly don’t know what they are talking about. And I don’t discuss my clients with anyone. This is a high-end boutique, not a rip-off shop.”
Vanessa gasped as she knew that was a direct hit at her store, and then she huffed out a small breath.
“How rude,” Vanessa hissed. “I was just being polite. No need to slander my boutique.”
“I wasn’t slandering anyone’s boutique,” Maggie pointed out calmly. “I was merely pointing out we are not an off-the-rack shop where no one cares if three or four people are wearing the same outfit. We are an exclusive one-of-a-kind type boutique.”
Vanessa suddenly tilted her head slightly as if she was hearing something, then dug in her purse to pull out her phone, frowning at the screen.
"Oh, it’s Kevin," Vanessa said, in a voice so transparently false that Maggie almost admired the nerve of it.
She lifted the phone and angled it very casually toward the racks of gowns and the display near the office door, as if trying to get a better signal.
"He's wondering if I managed to convince you to bring Toby to our wedding. "
The little shutter sound was unmistakable.
"Vanessa," Maggie said, her tone still pleasant but with steel underneath it now. "I'm going to have to ask you to put your phone away."
"I'm only texting Kevin back." Vannessa snapped in annoyance as her phone made another little click sound.
"You're taking photographs," Maggie said. "And I have a strict no-photography policy for the boutique. It protects my clients and my designs. So please. Put it away, or I'll have to ask you to step outside."
For one second, the sweetness dropped clean off Vanessa's face, and Maggie saw the hardness and scheming underneath it. Then the mask snapped back into place.
"Goodness," Vanessa said with a brittle laugh, dropping the phone back into her bag. "So protective. Anyone would think you had something to hide."