Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,26
the innuendo in Beth’s words. “So tell me about your company.”
The woman studied her for a moment, her gaze moving from Tori’s hair to her face to her clothes. When the visual inspection was over, Beth pursed her lips ever so slightly. “Do you know anything at all about fashion?”
“I know quite a bit, actually. I’ve been sewing since I was a little girl and I try to keep up on the latest fashions.”
The woman dropped her gaze to Tori’s attire once again. “Oh?”
Nibbling back the urge to say something unkind, Tori merely nodded.
In a flash, an unmistakable glow of excitement shot across Beth’s face. “Would you like to see my new designs? The ones that are going to put Spotlight Fashions on the map in the pageant world—and beyond?”
“Spotlight Fashions? I thought you were changing the name.”
Beth stared at her. “Changing the name? Where would you have gotten that?”
“Milo. He said something about you working on a new logo?”
“Oh. That. Well”—she grabbed hold of the leather portfolio and hoisted it onto the table—“I’ve had a change of heart.” With a yank of her hand, Beth unzipped the case and spun it around to give Tori a better view of the plastic-sleeved pages inside. “Wait until you see my latest designs.”
Pushing her mug to the side, Tori leaned forward, her attention captivated by the first dress in Beth’s lineup. “Oh my gosh, Beth, this is—this is gorgeous.”
Beth nodded, her hand sweeping across the first design. “Do you see the way the corset bodice is long and narrow, accenting the top of the waist?”
“I do.” Her gaze skimmed across the design, stopping to inspect various aspects more closely. “And I really love the sweetheart neckline and the gathered skirt.”
“Just wait. They get better.” Beth turned the page to reveal a dress fit for a princess. “Do you see this one? The scallop-edged neckline really draws the eye, don’t you think?”
“The ruched bodice is a nice touch as is the full princess skirt.” She leaned closer. “Will the skirt be detailed with beads?”
“Scattered, yes.” Beth turned to the third design. “Now this one is my favorite . . .” Her words trailed off as she stared at the drawing. “Don’t you just love the embroidered bodice and the charmeuse waist?”
“It’s beautiful.” Tori pointed at the bottom half of the dress. “Are those appliqués cascading down the skirt?”
Again, Beth nodded. “They are. And they look stunning against the full skirt, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” Page by page they studied each of the six designs, stopping to discuss the various touches that made each one memorable. “Beth, they’re gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” She shook her head softly, the woman’s talent nothing short of mind-boggling. “Milo didn’t tell me you did your own designs. They’re amazing.”
“A woman’s got to keep a few secrets to herself just to keep them guessing, don’t you think?” Beth ran her hand down the last of the six designs and sighed. “Besides, until recently, I used a different designer.”
“Why didn’t you design your own stuff from the beginning?”
Beth paused. “Well, because I—I was concentrating on getting the company up and running. It would have been too much trying to design everything myself.”
“Oh.” She watched as the woman closed the portfolio and zipped it closed. “Okay. So when will you roll these out?”
“Soon. I’d hoped to have twelve but, well, six will do.”
“I can’t imagine six more. These”—Tori gestured toward the leather case—“are really spectacular. You have an amazing talent, you really do.”
“I know.” Beth giggled. “Now I just need to make sure everything is in place.”
“What do you mean?”
“When these designs hit, Spotlight Fashions will be the choice for pageant dresses.”
Tori studied the woman closely, the glow of excitement making her all the more alluring. “Is the pageant business really that big?”
“When you have virtually all of it, it certainly is.”
“Wow. I don’t know how you do it.”
A cloud passed across Beth’s eyes. “Do what?”
“This.” She pointed to the portfolio. “Designing these kinds of dresses while running the company, and traveling, and having a personal life. It seems like a lot.”
“I don’t have a personal life.”
“Too busy?” Tori turned the mug in her hands, the ceramic material no longer warm.
“No. I just haven’t seen the point in wasting time with anyone who isn’t perfect.”
“Perfect?”
“For me.”
She reached across the table, patted Beth’s hand atop the portfolio. “You’ll find him.”
“Oh, I found him. I found him a long time ago.” Beth wrapped her long slender fingers around the handle of the leather case and