Karen Young - Never Tell

“It’s nice.” The article wasn’t about Erica alone. It was a piece showcasing the unique personality of the Village, a favored location for merchants, upscale and otherwise, some selling unique merchandise while others offered chain-store quality. When Erica and Jason decided to open a retail outlet for her jacket and quilt designs, they’d chosen the Village as much for its personality as for its location near upscale River Oaks.

“Nice?” Jason propped his hands on his hips. “That’s it, just nice?”

“It’s really terrific.”

“You know what this means, Erica.” He sat down on the cushioned seat of the bay window, but he was so energized that he was instantly up and pacing again. “It’s going to make us a household word. You’ve already made a name for yourself in Houston and this article is simply icing on the cake. Circulation for the Chronicle takes us throughout the whole state of Texas and beyond.”

“First Texas and then the world?” she teased, smiling while savoring the taste of the coffee. Jason’s expectations were anything but modest. He really believed Erica Stewart was destined to become a label as well known as Kate Spade or Cynthia Rowley. He was so certain that sometimes Erica almost believed it herself. This morning, however, her expectations were firmly grounded. She needed a couple of seamstresses to work full-time on the jackets and quilts, but so far she’d found only one who met her exacting standards. Her creations were pricey, unavoidably so, as they were labor intensive. She wanted anyone who bought a jacket or a quilt to get full value for their money.

“I’m not the one in denial,” Jason said, biting into a kolache. “You are.” Then, chewing on the pastry, he pointed to the article. “Do you think they do these feature articles for just anybody? Hell, no. Even if you can’t believe you’re destined to be a significant player, sugar, other folks do.” He tapped the article with a forefinger. “Now all we have to do is make the most of what’s been handed to us on a silver platter.”

“Uh-huh.” Erica rose and rummaged in a wire basket where she’d stashed recent mail. “If you’re excited over that article, you’ll really love this.” When she found what she was looking for, she handed it to Jason, who gave it a quick once-over. Then, doing a double take, he reread it.

“This isn’t a joke,” he said, looking at her. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

“No, Jason. Where would I get letterhead with a Texas Today logo? It’s real.”

“You’ve been named one of Twenty Women to Watch in Texas,” he said in a tone of wonderment.

“I know. I’ve read it,” she said dryly.

“Do you have a clue what this means?”

“I’ve got friends in high places?” But she was smiling, knowing Jason would get almost as much pleasure from the honor as she did. Maybe more.

“We agreed we couldn’t find enough money to buy the Zest article, but this knocks that right out of the ballpark.”

She licked raspberry filling from her finger before grabbing a napkin. “Hey, maybe we’ll find the money to hire another seamstress.”

“I’m serious, Erica. This is…this will…” He shook his head. “I’m speechless.”

“Now, that is a first.” Taking the letter from him, she sat down again and reread it. “I’m flattered, Jace. And you’re right. This is a once-in-a-career boost, and yet…”

He looked at her in disbelief, propping his hands on his hips. “And what, for Pete’s sake? You can’t possibly find anything negative in this. You said the Zest article was a fluke, and that if our shop wasn’t in the Village, and they didn’t just happen to be featuring businesses there, we would never have been included. And when you got that order for jackets from that boutique in the Galleria, you called Christopher Crane to make sure he meant it for Erica Stewart and not our competition in Dallas. It was legit and that’s because you’re good. Chris Crane doesn’t just run his finger down the yellow pages and pick a designer at random to feature in his shop, darlin’. You’re good, you’re better than good and I wish to hell you believed it as much as I do.”

“Okay, okay.” She gave a weak smile and rubbed her forehead with two fingers. “I get a headache when you start to lecture.”

“You should,” he said with no sympathy. After a beat or two, he dropped into a chair opposite her. “I don’t get why you keep trying to downplay your success, Erica. If I were in your place, the Astrodome wouldn’t be big enough for my ego.”

She studied his face with affection. They’d been friends since meeting in an art class in college more than twelve years ago. He’d been the male model that day. It was later when Erica learned he was actually an art student, and that he’d volunteered to model because it was just the zany kind of thing Jason sometimes did. He was physically beautiful. No other word fit. He had every natural asset needed for a career as a male model. His hair was a thick, glossy near-black, his eyes were startlingly blue and he had cheekbones to die for. Added to all that, his tall, hard-muscled body looked delectable in clothes. In fact, he’d briefly pursued modeling as a career, but quickly abandoned it as being, in his words, “soul-destroying and shallow beyond belief.” In his bones he was a serious artist, but unlike Erica, he hadn’t been able to support himself with his art.

To tell the truth, Erica wouldn’t have been able to support herself with her art, either, if Jason hadn’t come up with the bright idea that the two of them should collaborate. In his opinion, her fabric designs had commercial appeal. He’d pitched the idea at the darkest time in her life. She’d been holed up in her house popping antidepressants, stashing away the jackets and quilts she designed in a closet in the cluttered room where she created them. Had it not been for Jason and his dogged determination to save her from herself, Erica wondered how long it would have taken her to decide to reenter the land of the living. So, with her designs and Jason’s ability to promote and sell anything except his paintings, he persuaded her that going into business together would be a good thing. And indeed it was. With hard work, plus a lucky break or two, they’d achieved quite a remarkable commercial success.

“I just have this feeling, Jace,” she said, moving a finger over the Texas Today logo. “I know you think it’s my insecurity talking, but every once in a while I just feel as if that success you’re crowing about has been helped along by some outside force. I don’t know how else to describe it, but it’s there.”

“Here we go again.” He rolled his eyes. “That is total bullshit, Erica. You’re a talented artist and that’s why the world is noticing you.” He chose another kolache from the box and added, “Helped along by the somewhat brilliant promotional contributions that have come from me, if you’ll excuse me saying so.”

“I’ve had to excuse a lot more than that since you nagged me into opening the shop,” she reminded him dryly.

“Your lucky day.”

She smiled and gave in. “Okay, okay. Between the two of us, we’re enjoying a little taste of success.”

“And it’s sweet indeed.”

“So I’ll stop looking for a worm in the apple.”

“Good. Because there isn’t one.” Grabbing a pen, he got ready to do what he did best: seizing opportunity and running with it.

“More coffee, Morton?”

Lillian Trask lifted the decanter from the server and waited to pour. Along with coffee and juice, the breakfast cart was laden with scrambled eggs, bacon, croissants and a collection of gourmet jams and jellies. For herself, she preferred only fruit and yogurt to start the day, but her husband liked a hearty meal. After a moment, he grunted a response and she refilled his cup.