A Lowcountry Bride Page 21

  A rush of heat came over her. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about when she would see Derek again. “That hasn’t been finalized yet.”

  Her father squinted his eyes, and that’s when she knew he didn’t believe her. “Oh? Why is that?”

  Maya glanced down at the paper that she’d wanted to go over with her father. This was a mess and a half. “Just reasons,” she said, her voice low and mumbly.

  “Just reasons, huh?”

  A silence ensued between them, and Maya drummed her fingers on the table. The ticking of the wall clock further punctuated the quiet. Better just say something, because he wasn’t going to let this go. “My new job is unpredictable and demanding. Lots of traveling. So Derek and I are playing things by ear.”

  “Oh really?”

  Maya exhaled deeply. “Really.”

  More quiet, and then: “What happened, Maya? Did he do something terrible?”

  “He didn’t do anything terrible. On the contrary, he suggested that I stay in Charleston and build my business here, especially since I gained all that publicity with Heather’s wedding.”

  “That’s a great idea. Why not do that?”

  “I really want to be Laura Whitcomb’s head designer.”

  “I see.” Pops’s words sounded more like a question than a statement.

  “It’s what I really want.”

  “I know. You deserve it too.”

  She nodded. “Derek said if I built my fashion brand in Charleston, then I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to make travel and a relationship work.” The more she spoke, and the more her father probed, the more she felt as if she were sinking into quicksand.

  “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? To have your own fashion brand? I don’t see the problem.”

  But Laura Whitcomb Inc. was everything. Ev-ery-thing! Could Maya’s start-up brand even compete? No. Better to stick with an established company.

  “So what’s the problem, Maya?” her father said.

  “I know what you said about living fully and all that, but my time is short. Building a new business takes time. I don’t have that time to give. There are limits.”

  “It’s all about priorities.”

  She squinted. “What do you mean?”

  Her father paused. “You said your time is limited. So perhaps you should seriously consider where and how you spend it. Prioritize. If you went to New York, you could have that industry recognition, but you wouldn’t have the support you need. What do you value more?”

  Of course Pops would ask her the hard questions. “I value both?” she said, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

  “Be honest with yourself.”

  Maya glanced down, not wanting to face the truth.

  “You’re a grown woman, Maya. You make your own decisions, but if you stayed here, you could have both—career and love. You’ll also have people who care for you here. People who can help you if, God forbid, any health emergencies arose. But yes, having both is possible, my dear.”

  The way he sounded so certain got under her skin. Career and love. Perhaps it was possible in some alternate reality for healthy people, but not for her. And not when she held her mother’s hopes within her like heavy weights. “I can’t stay here. Being head designer is everything to me. I already let Mama down once. Mama died thinking that I let her down. When I told her that I was taking my ex-fiancé’s advice and giving up on pursuing my career in New York, Mama warned me not to do it.” Maya choked back the urge to cry. “I ignored her, and I ended up getting my heart broken. Mama never lived to see me become head designer, but Mama wanted that for me. Now I have this second chance. The least I can do is take this position.”

  “Oh, darling. When will you let these expectations go? They will bury you alive. Not sickle cell, but these expectations that you’re placing on yourself. Your mother would’ve wanted to see you happy. She would not have wanted to see you compromising your relationships to become a head dress designer. Besides, your mother never thought your ex was good enough for you anyway. She would’ve wanted to see you following your happiness. Your mother would want you to live for you.”

  Live for me? Is that even possible? Maya didn’t have time to live for herself. She didn’t have time to follow happiness. “It’s my choice. It’s what I have to do.”

  What I have to do.

  Maya needed to prove herself to the mainstream fashion world. If she proved herself, then it would mean her work was legitimate.

  Legitimate.

  The word resonated and bounced inside Maya; it was burdensome. Why was this so complicated? Why did this feel so hard? Was this what living was all about? Who knew? She didn’t.

  There was one thing Maya did know. Being head designer was more than a choice. It was what she had to do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Maya landed in LaGuardia Airport, she texted Derek and her father to let them know she’d arrived safely. The next morning, she took a taxicab to Laura Whitcomb Inc. filled with fresh expectations. Since Laura was so excited about Maya’s designs now, she would probably have a banner under Laura’s name, something like Designs by Maya. She couldn’t wait to hear about Laura’s plans. It was gonna be exciting and brilliant and wonderful.

  Still, there was a bit of sadness lodged in Maya’s heart. Leaving the Lowcountry proved more painful than she envisioned, but she had to let go of all that now. She got what she wanted, the most coveted position in the bridal gown industry. Well, the most coveted next to being Laura Whitcomb herself, of course. Maya would try to figure out a tentative date to see Derek once she was clear on her new job responsibilities.

  Maya arrived at her new design space / office and gasped when she stepped through the door. The place was three times bigger than her old cubicle, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. A huge downpour of rain made the view all fuzzy, but the weather would clear up tomorrow. Was it raining where Derek was too?

  Stupid thought, Maya. You aren’t there anymore. You made your choice.

  Maya took her seat at the massive oak desk and exhaled. All those years of hard work were finally paying off for her, and here she was. If only her mother could see her now. She’d be so proud.

  A smile curled the edges of Maya’s mouth. She reached in her oversized bag and grabbed her portfolio. First thing on her agenda was showing Laura the latest designs Maya had sketched, all Afro-Asian inspired. The second thing was giving Laura an up close and personal look at a prototype dress she created for consignment at Always a Bride. When Maya left Charleston, she took all of her dresses out of the store. She figured it would be better to take them all, rather than going through the trouble of getting them later.

  Maya rested her chin in her hands. She’d made the right decision. She did. She really did.

  Then why was she second-guessing herself every five minutes now that she was back home?

  “Shut up, Maya,” she whispered to herself. “Just shut up.”

  She grabbed her portfolio and dress and headed to Laura’s office, intent on impressing her. She was bound to love Maya’s designs now. Maya was just getting the formal go-ahead to start the fall line with these designs.

  She knocked on Laura’s office door.

  “Come in,” Laura said, her voice curt.

  Maya did, portfolio in one arm and dress in another. Funny how life went. Last time Maya was here, she was so nervous about losing her shot at being head designer. Now she was here to discuss being head designer.

  “How was your flight back?” Laura asked, not looking up from her phone.

  How’d she know I was here without looking at me? Perceptive woman. “Great. A smooth ride. I had a lot of time to sketch some designs for you to look at.”

  Laura glanced up from her phone and winked. “Attagirl. I have an international conference call set up for us tonight. Ready to get started?”

  “I’m definitely ready.”

  Laura peered at the dress in
Maya’s arms. “Is that new?”

  “Yes. I wanted you to have a look.”

  Laura got up from behind her desk and took the dress from Maya. Laura always had a good eye, and seeing Laura scrutinize her work so closely made Maya genuinely nervous.

  Laura looked at the inside of the dress, inspected the tag with Maya’s new logo on it, and frowned. “This won’t work.”

  Her heart sped up a notch. “It won’t work? Why not? This dress has the same design sensibilities as Heather Gates’s gown.”

  “I know that, and I’m excited about all of the buzz you’ve been getting. It shows that the trends are changing, and you know I love to stay on top of the trends. I love your designs.”

  Doubt settled into Maya. If Laura loved them so much, then why was she turning up her nose at this one?

  “You don’t believe me?” Laura raised her penciled brow.

  That was a trick question, and Maya wasn’t about to lose her job now that she was here in this new position. “I do.”

  Laura’s laugh bordered on a cackle. This lady was so high on power. “I thought so. My concern wasn’t the dress, Maya. Like I said before, our company can use a little diversity in our line.”

  Maya cringed. “A little diversity”? What did that mean? But again, she said nothing.

  “I was pointing to the tag,” Laura continued.

  The tag? Maya’s gaze landed on the logo bearing Maya and her mother’s name. “What about it?”

  “As you know, since you’re the new head designer, you have to represent Laura Whitcomb Inc. You’re an employee here. You’re not an independent contractor or a business owner. The side sales that I authorized were due to unusual circumstances . . . given that you weren’t getting paid by me for those weeks.”

  “So what are you saying?” Maya asked.

  “The designs you’ve created will belong to Laura Whitcomb Inc. As head designer, you will cast the vision for the line. Our clothing will be infused with your unique artistic sensibilities, sensibilities that I have grown to love, but they will belong to me.”

  Belong to her? No way. “How can that be? I never agreed to that.”

  “Didn’t you create Heather Gates’s gown while you were still an employee of mine?”

  An employee who was on leave of absence with NO PAY, thanks to Laura. An employee who had been scraping tooth and nail to make ends meet just so she could return to this job. An employee who had been trying her hardest to get her designs recognized by Laura—only for this. Laura didn’t want to hear all of that, so Maya kept quiet. She simply slow-nodded and hated every second of it.

  “That dress and every other dress that you designed while working for me belong to me,” Laura said. “They are part of my name brand.”

  Designs that you rejected.

  Was this really happening? Was this really, really and truly happening? “I never agreed to that, Laura. I never agreed to anything that you just said to me.”

  “You signed a nondisclosure agreement when you were hired. That NDA states that all trade secrets that occur during your employ are the property of Laura Whitcomb Inc.”

  All those pages and pages of paperwork that Maya had so eagerly signed on her first day of work. She didn’t even take the time to read through everything or have it checked out with a lawyer. Maya was just so happy to be on board with Laura Whitcomb Inc. that she signed her creativity away.

  Maya had signed her mother’s legacy away too.

  Know your worth.

  Maya’s face grew hot and her pulse pounded. Nausea overwhelmed her, and she resisted the urge to upchuck. Derek’s words to Maya were inconvenient at a time like this. Inconvenient and true. She had to object to Laura. Maya couldn’t just give her everything. “Those are my trade secrets, Laura. The Filipino stitching techniques and the Afro-Asian fashion sense and everything. Those are my trade secrets.”

  “No,” Laura said slowly. “They are not. Not after you signed those forms.”

  Maya’s insides turned to stone. Was this how Laura gained success? By pilfering from the creative talents of her underlings? Was Maya the first person this happened to? She didn’t know because the atmosphere around here had always been so competitive with her peers. No one helped anyone around here.

  “You look worried, Maya. Don’t be. This is going to be great for you. Your designs will have national exposure. They’ll be part of the company, and you’re also head designer. That will be such an amazing boost for you.” Laura smiled, but her eyes were ice cold.

  Maya already had a boost, and Laura Whitcomb wasn’t there when it happened. Maya’s boost happened in Charleston. It happened at Always a Bride. It happened with Derek.

  Yet Maya threw that all away, and for what? For Laura’s manipulative theft?

  Who was helping whom around here? It seemed like Maya was being harmed while Laura was being “helped.”

  “Those are the terms you agreed to, darling.”

  “You’re saying I have no choice in the matter?” Maya asked.

  Laura paused. “I am most definitely not saying that you don’t have a choice, my dear.” Her words came out carefully, as if she didn’t want to get caught in a legal battle. “You are your own woman. You remind me of myself when I first started out in dress design.”

  Was that supposed to be a compliment? Perhaps, but it felt like an underhanded one.

  “You wanted this, Maya. Remember that. You wanted to be head designer. You wanted your designs to be on the national stage. These are your wants, and now you have them.”

  Maya nodded, but her conscience screamed, At what cost?

  “You’ve worked very hard. Now your dreams are coming true.”

  A throbbing pain formed at the base of Maya’s neck. Ugh. A stress headache. Maya’s conscience still screamed, and now it was affecting her body. This didn’t feel right at all. “And if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t what?” Laura asked.

  “If I don’t continue . . . working here, then what?”

  “Why would you ask that question?”

  “Because I . . .”

  Because she what? What Laura said was true. This was what Maya had wanted. This was what Maya’s mother had wanted too. Maya was being silly. This was a great opportunity. She should chill out.

  “Never mind,” she said weakly.

  A cruel smile formed at Laura’s lips. “Good then. I’ll look over these sketches once more and then send some of them to the seamstress. They’ll be able to create a quick mock-up, and we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

  “Seamstress? Those dresses are always hand stitched in a particular method too.”

  “Not anymore. We have to mass-produce these designs for public consumption. We won’t have use for those little Filipino stitches.”

  “Little Filipino stitches”? What in the world?

  “If we hand stitched everything, I’d have to charge ten times as much for these dresses. I don’t mind doing that for our private clients, but those clients are few. We have to turn a big profit as well.”

  Disappointment ripped into her. This was not how this meeting was supposed to turn out.

  “That’s all for now,” Laura continued. “Don’t forget about tonight’s conference call. I emailed the details to you. Make sure you sign those papers from human resources officially accepting your new promotion. And congratulations again!”

  Some congratulations! Maya turned and walked out of Laura’s office. The pain at the base of her neck throbbed even more. She needed coffee or aspirin or something. This was all way too much. Her hopes, her dreams, and her regrets warred inside of her, and Maya didn’t know what to do with any of it.

  She left the building and turned a corner onto Forty-Second Street. Tiny black dots blurred her vision. What now? The stress must be getting to her, because Maya just had a blood transfusion last week before she left South Carolina.

  Maya’s muscles ached and she stopped in the middle of the busy street
. She took a deep breath. Please, not another episode of pain. She’d taken her medications this morning too.

  Not here. Not now. Confusion hit her from every angle. Should she have relented? What power did she have if Laura took all of her designs? How could Maya have been so stupid? Why didn’t Maya read those documents before signing? Was Laura’s approval that important to her? So important that she’d sacrifice an entire legacy?

  Obviously.

  The realization punched hard, and she held on to a lamppost for dear life. Despite Maya’s efforts, dizziness snatched her in a brutal wave. Her knees buckled. She collapsed and her forehead plunked against the New York concrete.

  Maya blacked out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Derek and Jamila arrived at the store extra early. Derek sat at the front register of the boutique and tapped his pen against the glass counter. Maya should’ve started her first day of work as head designer by now, and he missed her a lot.

  It would be another half an hour before he opened the shop, so he decided he’d brew a pot of coffee in the break room. “I’ll be right back, Jamila,” he said absentmindedly.

  She glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through. “Okay.”

  He smiled at her. Derek needed to get his head together for Jamila’s sake. Kind of tough since this emptiness had hovered over him since Maya left. The boutique was doing well financially, and an influx of customers arrived all the time, but he wasn’t feeling right inside. The store no longer held meaning for him.

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out and studied the screen, hoping it was Maya. It was Marlon. Did something happen with the finances?

  “Hey,” Derek said, unsure whether to sound casual or cautious.

  “Derek! Nice to catch you. How’s it going?”

  “Fine,” he said curtly.

  “I was calling because people are really interested in the boutique after it gained so much publicity from Heather’s wedding.”

  Derek held out a line of caution. “O-kay.”

  “There’s someone interested in making an offer on the store. Remember Marjorie Wilkinson from earlier? She’s willing to double her price this time.”