“I packed up the boards for Avery but she never sent a messenger. Turns out she’s at the Crosby Street Hotel this afternoon for an off-site brainstorm meeting with her team, and since she’s so close, she says she wants to pop by and pick them up herself at 6:30. Want me to hang around?”
“Thanks, Dara, but I don’t mind handling it. I’ll be here until just before seven.” However, even as she said the words, a ping sounded on her phone, indicating a text. With a start she saw it was from X.
“Need to meet at nine instead. Same place.”
That didn’t sit well with her. It meant waiting even longer, but at least she’d have more time if Avery ran late. She texted back “okay.”
After Dara and Baby took off, with Baby whispering for Kit to call her after the meeting, she paced the office, waiting for Avery. It wasn’t until a quarter to seven that the buzzer rang.
“Sorry,” Avery blurted into the intercom, sounding more irritated than apologetic. “Traffic’s a bitch.”
A few minutes later she swept into the office in a cloud of fragrance that hinted at rose petals and bitter orange. Her look was more subdued than usual: the humidity had knocked some of the volume out of her hair, and, probably because of the off-site meeting with her staff, she was dressed simply in black leggings, black booties with heels, and a long, taupe-colored sweater.
Kit turned over the three boards to her, which had been carefully wrapped by Dara, and though she knew Avery was probably in a hurry, she updated her briefly on the progress she’d made scouting for not only major pieces but also lamps and accessories.
“Will it all be ready by the beginning of summer?” Avery asked.
“Yes, most of it, as long as I can order the fabric right away. I’ve lined up a painter for you, and he’s going to start next week, so I’ll work with your assistant about securing access. I’ll be driving down there every week to supervise.”
Avery smiled. “Fabulous. Now I just have to meet a new man to invite for the weekends.”
“Just give a few parties this summer and ask people to bring along some men you haven’t met. Those billowing curtains I promised you are going to be pretty seductive.”
Avery smiled. “I’m counting on it. But look, I’d better dash.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the rain finally arrived, and Kit and Avery turned in unison to the sound of it pelting against the window glass.
“You’ll never find a cab now,” Kit said. “Let me order you an Uber.”
“I’ve got a car,” Avery said, as if it would be ludicrous to think otherwise. “But what I desperately could use is an umbrella. I’ve got to run in and out of a few places.”
“Let me grab you one.”
Kit reached into a basket in the entranceway, found a small fold-up umbrella and handed it over. Avery looked at it glumly.
“Maybe I should bag the stops,” she said. “It’s so damn windy out, I’m going to get drenched even with an umbrella.”
“Do you want my trench coat?” Kit asked, making sure the reluctance didn’t show in her voice. She hated to part with the coat, but she also didn’t want to leave a client in a jam.
“You sure? I could send it over by messenger tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Kit tugged her tan trench coat off the peg and passed it to Avery, who momentarily set the boards down before slipping into the coat and tightening the belt around her. “I’m dying to hear what you think about the boards.”
“Well, I’m dying to see them. I’ll be in touch.”
Kit opened the door for her and Avery hurried out.
For the next two hours Kit tried to busy herself with work. Thirty minutes before she was due to leave, she changed into jeans, boots, and a khaki green jersey top. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. The color of the top played off her eyes in a way someone couldn’t help but notice.
Oh, that’s hilarious, she thought. She was going to meet a man who had imperiled her life and she was subconsciously trying to dazzle him. She nearly tore off the top and wiggled into a black knit turtleneck instead. Just before it was time to go, she threw on an old rain slicker. With her trench on loan, that was the best she could do at the moment.