Music blaring, top down, Tag and Viv flew back to Irish Hills as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
* * *
Tag headed back to his place, and Viv decided to spend some time at her sewing machine. She had no designs, no plans, just creative license to make her kaftans.
Tag’s diagnosis had her thinking about the crossroads she was facing in her own career. Siena was doing all this work to fight for her company. She had pinned her hopes on a retail location and maybe even many retail locations, but Viv’s lack of interest or will to get on board with the plan wasn’t a defeat.
It was just time.
Viv picked a lovely little yellow piping from the supply she’d found at a secondhand store in Adrian. She pinned it along the collar. This one had a notched keyhole at the neck. All of her kaftans were different. They took shape organically. The colors and shapes and her mood dictated the final garment, not a pattern.
She looked at it. Assessed. Maybe it needed more room at the shoulders? She got lost in the design of this one item, this new art.
“Mom?”
Siena was at the door. She looked sad rather than keyed up like she’d been lately.
“Yes, love, come in.”
Siena saw the current work in progress. “These are so pretty. This one is going to be yellow with a little red? My goodness, so far from Vivian Blackwood classics.”
“These are just for fun.”
“About that…”
“How did the big grand opening go?”
Siena came over and sat on the bed. In the last few months, she’d looked all grown up, ready to take on the world, and she’d offered her broad shoulders to her old mom.
But right now, Viv could see the sweet little girl. The furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips made Viv think she was about to report that she was sad because someone was mean to her in her class.
That little girl was right there, just under the surface of the woman her daughter had become. Viv had been pushing hard to be sure Siena could stand on her own two feet, but suddenly she wanted to do the exact opposite. She wanted to take her hand and reassure her that she wasn’t alone, that mom would take care of whatever was wrong.
“What is it?”
“It was a disaster.”
Viv tilted her head. “I doubt it was that. The store was lovely. You made it so.”
Siena was hesitating. Her daughter was holding back. And then it dawned on Viv why that might be.
“Are we saying there were no customers in the store disaster, or do you mean no one bought the designs disaster?”
Silence hung between them. That was the answer then. No one was buying Vivian Blackwood anymore.
Siena finally spoke. “There were customers. And they bought stuff, but not any of the career wear.”
“What else could they have possibly bought then?”
“They bought six wall pieces I had hung to decorate the store. I was going to switch them out all season, so I had stock of them for us. As soon as I put one up, it would sell.”
“Ooh, that artist is hot then,” Viv said.
“That’s the thing, there were a variety of artists.”
“Hmm.”
“And they bought these table coverings, tablecloths, that I had put on the display tables. I didn’t even have prices on them, and they were grabbing them. I didn’t want to sell them, but I figured at least I could pay Alison with the cash from that.”
