Fashion, Rose & Foul Play - Gemma Halliday Page 0,2

"Are you a jeweler as well?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just here to support Ava."

"This is Emmy Oak," Ava said, properly introducing me. "She runs Oak Valley Vineyards. It's a winery just outside of town."

"A winery! Now you're speaking my language," Daisy said with a wink. "Don't suppose you smuggled any of your wares backstage? I could really go for a glass of rosé right about now."

I laughed. "No, sorry. But I'm sure there will be plenty of refreshments at the reception after the show."

She shrugged. "I suppose I'll live until then."

"Though, if you're in town for the weekend, please do feel free to stop by the winery," I offered. "I'd be happy to give you a personal tour."

"Oh, honey, that's an offer I can't pass up." She winked again before turning to Ava. "Listen, Silver Girl, would you mind having a look at the necklace Amanda is wearing? I don't think it's lying quite right."

"Of course," Ava agreed, following as Daisy led the way to where her models were starting to line up for the show.

"I have to say, I'm a huge fan," I told Daisy as we approached her model, Amanda, a redhead wearing a large, hand forged silver collar. "I watched you on On the Runway."

"Well, thank you." Daisy did an exaggerated bow. "I try my best to infuse a little fun into fashion." She glanced over to where two of Costello's models stood in tailored pantsuits. "A lot more fun than that snoozefest Boring-ello, huh?" She chuckled at her own joke.

Luckily, I was saved from answering, as she turned her attention to her model, directing Ava to make some small adjustments to the clasp on the necklace in question.

I hung back, letting Ava do her thing, enjoying the front row seat to the beautiful, one-of-a-kind creations around me. By the time Ava had the necklace lying across the model's clavicle just how Daisy had envisioned, I could see the rest of the models lining up as well—Jada in her navy jumpsuit beside two other tall women in sleek skirts and well-constructed blazers, clearly walking for Costello. Several of Daisy's colorfully clad ladies were also in line, the makeup and hair teams having shifted from their stations to last looks before the ladies emerged onto the outdoor runway.

I did not, however, see Gia and the emerald necklace among them yet. I could see the frown on Ava's face as she moved down the line, checking the jewelry on each model, clearly noticing the same absence.

"I'll go make sure Costello found her," I assured her, stowing my camera in its small black bag for safety.

Ava nodded. "Thanks," she said as I stepped away.

The weather this time of year was perfect for an outdoor show, and the Links had set up a long runway down the south lawn, leading from the large Grand Ballroom that had been converted to the staging area, through the several dozen wooden folding chairs set out for eager audience members. Off the interior of the ballroom, I found what looked like a smaller storeroom, now converted to a private dressing room with the name Gia Monroe taped to the outside.

I moved my hand to knock but stopped as I heard voices on the other side.

Raised ones.

I paused, not sure if I should intrude.

"…you know what that means," yelled one voice—clearly female and presumably Gia's.

"…dare threaten me?" came the reply. Male. And a voice I recognized, having just heard it earlier. Costello.

I felt a frown form. Threaten was a big word. Despite not initially meaning to eavesdrop, I leaned forward, straining to hear the reply. Unfortunately, through the thick wooden door, I was only able to make out snippets of it.

"…big talk," Gia yelled. "…old man!"

Whatever they were arguing about, it was getting heated. The volume of Costello's response rose so high that I made out every word.

"Careful what you wish for, dahling. It might be your last!"

I was trying to interpret the meaning behind that when the door in front of me was suddenly flung open, Costello charging out so furiously that he almost plowed right into me.

I stepped to the side to avoid a collision, but he barely acknowledged my presence, his pudgy face red, his jaw tense, as he stalked toward the rest of the models.

I waited until he was clear before peeking into the dressing room through the open doorway.

If she'd been affected by the exchange with the designer, Gia didn't show it, calmly perched on the edge of