Actually, the minute she hung up, Reva decided that the last thing she wanted to do was look at some cheap, homemade crafts. So she’d taken Grace for a quick tour of Shadyside.
“You could have left a message with the maid,” Willow told her.
Reva widened her eyes innocently. “You mean she didn’t give you my message? I’ll have to speak to her. Getting good help is really hard these days, you know.”
“Sure,” Willow muttered.
Pam cleared her throat. “Well, anyway, as I told you, Willow and I are taking this crafts course. We brought our stuff over to show you.”
“I’d love to see it,” Grace told her.
Thanks a lot, Grace, Reva thought. As Pam pulled a shopping bag onto the coffee table, Reva checked her watch. Five minutes to pretend to like the stuff, whatever it was. Then she’d get rid of these two losers.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Grace exclaimed.
Reva gazed up and almost gasped in shock. She’d been expecting something totally tacky—a lopsided flowerpot, maybe.
Instead, Pam had pulled out one of the most gorgeous scarves she’d ever seen. A rich golden color, with tiny silver reindeer painted on it.
“It’s beautiful!” Grace repeated. “And it’s perfect for Christmas!”
Pam’s round face flushed at the praise. “Here, try it on.” She handed Grace the scarf, then pulled a green one from the shopping bag and held it out to Reva.
Reva slid the soft green material through her fingers, then draped the scarf around her neck.
“We stitch up the hems by hand,” Pam explained. “And we do the painting too, of course. It’s silkscreened. What do you think, Reva?” she asked anxiously.
Reva struck a model’s pose. “Think I’m ready for the cover of Vogue?”
Pam laughed excitedly. “You mean you like it?”
“Like it? It’s gorgeous!” Reva declared. How did these two manage something like this? she wondered. Maybe Willow is talented. I know that Pam couldn’t design a scarf for a dog to wear.
Pam laughed again. “That’s great, Reva. So will you show them to your father and see if he’ll put them in his stores? I mean, it would be so fantastic if we could sell some of them.”
Some of them? They could probably sell hundreds, Reva thought, fingering the scarf. They were perfect for the holidays, as Grace said. And they were originals, too. People would fork over a lot of money for original stuff.
She felt a jab of jealousy. She was the fashionable one. Pam was a slob, with absolutely no sense of clothes or makeup or hairstyles. And her punk-looking friend was even worse. But the two of them had actually made something that Reva knew would sell like crazy.
“Reva?” Pam asked in a hopeful voice. “Would you show them to Uncle Robert? It would mean a lot. Please?”
Should I make her beg some more? Reva wondered. No. It’s fun, but I can’t waste the time. “Sure I’ll show them to Daddy!” she declared enthusiastically. “In fact, I’ll do it right now. He’s upstairs in his office.”
Willow actually smiled, and Pam practically jumped up and down. “Thanks!” she cried, handing Reva two shopping bags filled with scarves. “This is so great! I can’t wait to hear what he says!”
“Stay here,” Reva told them, carrying the bags to the door. “This won’t take long.”
As she left, Reva glanced over her shoulder. Pam and Willow were jabbering at each other. Pam had her fingers crossed, and Willow’s expression was excited and nervous.
They really want this, Reva thought. They want it so bad they can taste it.
Let’s see what I can do about it.
• • •
Fifteen minutes later, Reva trotted back down the stairs and stopped in the doorway of the living room.
Pam and Willow were talking to Grace about the scarves, telling her how they’d come up with the idea. When they saw Reva, they stopped, staring at her tensely.
Reva glanced at Pam, then at Willow. She dropped the shopping bags on the floor and sighed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice full of regret. “I have some very bad news.”
Chapter 9
“REVA WON’T GET AWAY
WITH THIS!”
Now I know what it means to feel your heart sink, Pam thought. Mine is down around my knees right now. “You mean—he didn’t like the scarves?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking with disappointment.
“Well . . .” Reva paused and bit her lip. “No. He didn’t like them.”
Willow groaned.
Pam sighed.
Reva laughed. “He loved them!” she cried.
Pam stared at her, confused. “What? But you said . . .”
Pam felt a flash of anger at Reva’s cruel joke. But it quickly disappeared. “Yes!” she cried, turning to Willow. “He liked them, I knew he would! Oh, this is so incredible!”
Willow grinned and pumped her fist in the air.
“How fast can you start making more?” Reva asked. “He wants to stock them in five of his stores—immediately.”
“I don’t believe it! Did you hear that, Willow?” Pam shrieked, hugging her friend. “Five stores! We did it!”
“Congratulations,” Grace told her.
“Thanks! Oh, this is so great!” Pam laughed excitedly. Five stores! she thought. If they sold well—and she was sure they would—she and Willow would make a bundle. She’d have enough money for college. Maybe even a car!
“So what are we waiting for?” Willow asked, still grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s get out of here and get to work. We’ve got orders to fill!”
“Right!” Pam agreed breathlessly. “Tell Uncle Robert thanks, Reva. And tell him we can get him all the scarves he wants—no problem!”
“Good.” Reva smiled. “Just think—in only a few days, the Reva Wear Scarves will be everywhere!”
Pam’s smile froze on her face.
The room went silent.
I must have heard wrong, Pam told herself. She licked her lips. “What did you say?” she asked Reva.
“Yeah, I’d like to hear that again, too,” Willow said.
“I said that the Reva Wear Scarves will be everywhere,” Reva told them.
“Reva Wear?” Pam gasped. “I don’t get it.”
“Well, I couldn’t tell Daddy you designed them.”
“Why not?”
Reva clicked her tongue impatiently. “Because he wouldn’t have been interested.” You moron, her tone of voice said. “And I really wanted to help you two. You know. Get you started. So I told him they were my designs. That’s all it took. He was so excited!”
Pam glanced at Willow, who looked as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Exactly the way I feel, Pam thought. How could Reva have done this?
“And get this,” Reva continued, her blue eyes gleaming. “Daddy’s going to let me do a fashion show at the store. It’s going to be a major promotion—just to show off the scarves! This is the first time he’s ever done anything like that. I mean, there have been fashion shows before, but not for just one item.”
“That’s nice,” Grace murmured. Grace sounded shocked, Pam noticed. She was obviously seeing a new side of Reva.
“It’s more than nice, it’s fabulous!” Reva declared. “And here’s the best part—I get to run the shows. Hire some new models, pick the music—everything! We’re going to put on the show three times a day during the whole Christmas season. We’ll sell hundreds of scarves!”
“Yeah—hundreds of our scarves,” Willow muttered, glancing at Pam. “Our scarves and our designs. You kind of forgot that, didn’t you, Reva?”
Reva rolled her eyes. “Didn’t I just explain why it has to be this way? What’s the big deal, anyway? You and Pam will get a nice percent of the profit. You’re going to make some real money!”
“Sure, but. . .” Willow started to say.
“Listen, we don’t exactly have all the time in the world, you know,” Reva interrupted. “I mean, it’s already
early December, and I want to get those scarves into the stores as soon as possible.”
Pam shot a glance at Willow. Don’t argue anymore, her eyes said. Willow didn’t know Reva the way Pam did. Cross her, and they could kiss this deal good-bye.
And Pam desperately wanted this deal, no matter what.
“We’d better get going,” she told Willow. “We can work at my house. But we’ll have to clear off the dining room table. Or maybe we could use the garage. We’ll get in a few hours before we have to go to the office and—”
“Don’t think so small!” Reva scoffed. “Daddy knows your boss. He’ll get you some time off. And Daddy said I could set up a workroom at the store for you. I’ll call Maintenance now and get them to put in a couple of big tables.”
“Fine.” Pam gestured toward the door. “Come on, Willow. Let’s go home and make sure we have all the supplies we need.” She picked up the shopping bags. “See you in the morning, Reva.”
“Right. Eight-thirty sharp,” Reva ordered. “And bring your lunches, okay? You’ll be too busy to go out.”
Pam nudged Willow through the door. As they slipped on their coats, they could hear Reva boasting to Grace about Reva Wear.
“‘Eight-thirty sharp,’” Willow said, mimicking Reva’s bossy tone of voice. “ ‘Bring your lunch. You won’t have time to go out.’ ” She tossed her head. “I won’t be surprised if she chains us to the sewing tables.”
“Sssh, she’ll hear you,” Pam warned. She pulled open the heavy front door and followed Willow outside.
“That cousin of yours is bad news,” Willow declared. Her pale eyes were icy with anger. “Real bad news.”
“I know. But at least people will be buying our scarves. And we’ll be making some money,” Pam reminded her. “That’s what we really care about—right?”
Willow turned back and glared at the house. “Reva won’t get away with this,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Don’t worry, Pam. I won’t let her get away with this!”
Chapter 10
DEATH THREAT
Reva watched the elevator light and tapped her foot impatiently. Why couldn’t this thing move faster?
She glanced at her watch. Almost ten. She’d been up in one of the executive offices at Dalby’s since nine this morning, working on plans for her scarf show. She was on her way down now to audition the models.
Only one day until the first show, she thought, glancing at the elevator light again. Only one, and she had a ton of stuff to do to get ready.
But it will be worth it, she promised herself. Because Reva Wear will be the hit of the season.
And I’ll be the hit of the fashion world.
The elevator settled to a stop on the main floor. With a smile, Reva swept through the doors and hurried down a hallway toward the room where the models waited.
As she passed an open door, she glanced inside. The tiny windowless room, usually used for storing boxes and shopping bags, had been cleared out. Two tables crammed with sewing supplies stood against one wall and a long wooden table sat in the middle of the floor. Pam and Willow leaned over the table, unrolling a bolt of black material.
Reva frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re just getting started.”
Pam raised her head. “Oh, Reva. Hi. No, we already cut out a bunch of other material.”
“Good.” Reva started to move on.
“Reva?”
She stopped, tapping her foot again.
Pam came around the table. Multicolored thread clung to her hair and pale blue sweatshirt. A yellow tape measure dangled around her neck, and one of her sneakers was untied.
Good thing she’s working behind the scenes, Reva thought. And her tacky friend, too.
Willow wore a skin-tight tank top and black jeans tucked into scuffed black boots. Reva sniffed. Probably rode to work on her Harley. And was that actually a tattoo on her shoulder?
Reva shuddered and turned to Pam. “What is it?” she demanded. “I have a lot to do.”
“I know. But we have to talk,” Pam told her.
Sighing loudly, Reva checked her watch. “Make it fast, okay?”
“Sure.” Pam stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “We need to set up our business arrangement with you. You know, a contract.”
“It’s really important,” Willow chimed in.
“So is getting some scarves made, or you won’t need any contract,” Reva pointed out. “Listen, I’ll talk to Daddy’s lawyer later today. But right now, I absolutely have to go audition the models. I’ll stop by and check on you later.”
As she turned away, Reva noticed Willow staring at her. Glaring was more like it. Those blue eyes reminded Reva of marbles—hard and cold.
What’s her problem, anyway? she wondered, hurrying down the hall. Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is that I’m giving them a chance?
“Reva!” a voice called out behind her.
Reva spun around and smiled as her father walked briskly toward her. “Hi, Daddy. I was just about to audition the models for the Reva Wear show. The Shadyside Agency was really excited when I called them this morning. They said they’d send over some of their best ones.”
“That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about,” Robert Dalby told her. “I know you were planning on hiring three models, but it will have to be two.”
“But, Daddy, I already worked out the whole routine! And it needs three models,” Reva protested. “Two won’t work at all!”
“Calm down, honey,” her father said. “You can use three models, but you can only hire two from the agency. Traci Meecham is already under contract to model for the store. So we have to use her in the show.”
“Traci!” Reva practically spat out the name. “Give me a break, Daddy. You know she can’t stand me!”
And the feeling is totally mutual, Reva thought.
“No, I didn’t know that,” her father told her. “What could she possibly have against you?”
Reva shrugged, frowning. She and Traci had a big blow-up about a guy last year. But she didn’t feel like going into the details. “I don’t know,” she lied. “She’s probably just jealous. You know, because you’re my father and we have money.”
“She’s never been anything but polite and friendly to me,” Mr. Dalby declared.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Reva told him. “You’re the boss, remember? She has to stay on your good side. Anyway, Daddy, I still don’t see why I have to use her. I mean, can’t you change her contract or something?”
Her father laughed. “Easier said than done, honey. In fact, my lawyers would probably tell me it’s impossible. No. You have to use Traci,” he insisted.
“But—”
Mr. Dalby held up his hand. “Reva, this is business. And you might not always like the people you do business with. But you still have to behave like a pro.”
Reva wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “Okay,” she told him. “I understand. I’ll use Traci.”
Her father patted her shoulder. “I’m off to a meeting now. You go talk to Traci. She’s in the makeup department, modeling a new line of eyeshadow.”
As her father strode away, Reva heaved a sigh. First Pam and Willow, and now Traci Meecham. What a bunch of losers!
She checked her watch. Ten after nine. The models were waiting.
I’m the boss, Reva reminded herself. They can’t do anything without me. So let them wait. Go find Traci and get it over with.
Traci stood at one of the makeup counters. Reva watched her for a few seconds. Slender, with short, curly blond hair and big gray eyes, Traci sat on a high stool, applying charcoal eyeshadow and chatting with an interested customer. The woman said something, and Traci laughed, showing deep dimples at the sides of her mouth.
Reva frowned. Dimples were too cute. She wanted a more dramatic look for her scarf show. But she didn’t have a choice.
Annoyed, she cleared her throat loudly.
Traci’s makeup hand jumped, and a line of
charcoal eyeshadow appeared on her forehead.
“Sorry,” Reva told her, with a fake smile. “But I need to talk to you a second, Traci.”
Traci turned to the customer. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” She slid from the stool and walked gracefully over to Reva. “What?” she demanded bluntly.
“I’m putting together a fashion show for a new line of scarves,” Reva told her. “The name is Reva Wear.”
Traci’s eyebrows rose skeptically. “When did you go to design school?”
“I have natural talent,” Reva shot back. Working with Traci was going to be a disaster. “Anyway, I need three models, and you’re one of them. Of course,” she added snidely, “you’ll have to wash the eyeshadow off your forehead.”
Traci rolled her eyes. “Listen, Reva, I know your father is making you use me for this show,” she declared. “I don’t like it any better than you do.”
“You can always refuse,” Reva told her.
“Sure, and lose my job.” Traci’s gray eyes flashed. “Some of us have to earn our living, you know.”
Boo hoo. What am I supposed to do about it? Reva wondered. Feel guilty?
“So I’ll do this scarf show, and I’ll be good in it,” Traci continued. “But let’s make a deal, okay? You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Fine.”
She’s afraid I might get her fired, Reva thought. Good. “Just remember who’s running the show, Traci.”
Smiling sweetly, Reva turned and strode away.
At least I’ll be able to choose the other two models, she thought, hurrying back toward the room where the models waited. Traci is a blonde, and I definitely want one with black hair. What about the third one? A second blonde might be dramatic. Or a second black-haired one. . . . No, that would make Traci stand out too much.
Thinking about the models, Reva turned a corner in the hallway.
And stopped short when she saw a familiar face.
Daniel Powell stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Surprise!” he snapped.
“What do you want?” Reva demanded. “What are you doing here?”