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“I already took a half-day today. It will look like I’m taking advantage.”
“To who? The other employees? They work for me.”
“And I work for you.”
“Why do you always have to make things complicated?”
“I live to piss you off.”
“I see that. Take the day off then. I don’t want to see your face in the office. And use the credit card I gave you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see the next seventeen months are going to be a ball.”
“You’re damn right.”
Foster got up from the couch and headed down the hall to his bedroom.
As ordered, I take the day off and wake up long after Foster went to work because I plan to make it worth my time. I indulge in a long shower, then shave my legs while sitting in the steamy room for a while. After, I make myself a breakfast of two over-easy eggs on an English muffin.
I call Emma to see if she can join me, but she wouldn’t be able to leave work since she has a meeting with an author whose book she is editing. Rory is also tied up, so I’m left to go alone. Maybe I would stop by and see my nephews and Lana. Zane might be home too because he has been working half days since the babies were born.
While planning, I get a text from Foster telling me to let him know when I leave because he would send Peters to transport me. It isn’t necessary, but I am quickly learning not to argue with Foster Black. So, I end up waiting in the lobby for Peters, and when he pulls up to the building, I hurry out, pulling the collar of my coat around my neck. It is blustery and chilly.
“Can you please take me to the Vicarias in midtown?” I ask Peters.
“Yes, Mrs. Black.”
I still can’t get used to being called Mrs. Black. It has only been a few weeks since we were married, but I’m sure if I will ever get used to the name. It didn’t matter, however, because, in a year and a half, I will no longer be Mrs. Black. I sit back and play a game on my phone while Peters drove to the Vicaria’s Boutique. Rachel and Rodrigo Vicaria started as wedding dressmakers, servicing the elites and blue bloods. They recently branched out into eveningwear and other elegant attire.
Foster placed a call to Rachel before I left, and she accommodated his request even though their boutique was booked solid for the next four months. It must be nice to have money. When I arrive, I press an intercom on the outside of the store. A woman answers, asking me for my name. Once I give it to her, the door pops open, and Rachel Vicaria herself steps out.
I’d never met the woman, but she looked to be in her mid-thirties with a streak of blue in her blonde hair. Her pink horn-rimmed glasses and retro dress made her look like a throwback from the sixties.
“Mrs. Black, how nice to meet you,” she said as she extended her hand.
“Please call me Paige,” I said as I took her hand. The boutique was decked out in plush pink carpet and pastel green walls. Racks of gowns and dresses lined the walls, and a seating area made up of pink leather couches, and glass tables were in the middle of the room.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?” Rachel said.
“I haven’t the slightest idea. It’s for a dinner.”
“A formal dinner?”
“Yes.”
“The Lower East Health Crisis Center?”
“I think so. Foster didn’t tell me much.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows but said nothing as I took off my coat and handed it to her assistant, a tall man named Serge. He is dressed flamboyantly in an orange paisley jacket, white shirt, and gray striped slacks. He offers me a drink, but I decline. Rachel guides me to a rack of black dresses.
“Size four?”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve been in this business for a long time. Do you want long or short?”
