Chapter 3

“How much have they paid?”

Luca’s question was directed at Charles.

But Charles looked toward Eleanor.

That alone frightened me.

A man who had been giving orders all evening suddenly seemed unable to answer one simple question.

“Charles,” Eleanor said quietly.

He cleared his throat.

“The customers paid deposits. That’s how bridal businesses operate.”

“How much?”

“Approximately two hundred thousand dollars.”

Someone at the table gasped.

Luca didn’t move.

“And they believe my family guarantees their orders?”

Charles lifted his hands.

“Nobody said guaranteed.”

Luca held up the brochure.

“It says partnership. Our crest is beside your name.”

Vanessa stepped between them.

“I told Daddy we shouldn’t print that.”

Charles turned toward her.

“You said Luca would help.”

“I said I’d ask him.”

“After the wedding,” Luca said.

Vanessa’s silence answered him.

I watched Margaret slowly lower herself into the chair Luca had offered earlier.

Her knees seemed unable to support her anymore.

I brought her a glass of water.

She whispered, “Thank you, honey.”

Then she looked at her daughter.

“Vanessa, what have you done?”

Vanessa’s face tightened.

“I was trying to keep Eleanor’s business alive.”

Eleanor looked away.

For the first time, I wondered whether she knew everything Charles had promised.

Luca pulled out the chair beside Margaret and sat down.

He was no longer questioning his fiancée from across a room.

He was sitting beside the woman she’d tried to remove.

“Mrs. Bellini, how long have you been sewing for Bellini House?”

Margaret stared at her water.

“On and off for years.”

“Are you employed there?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why are you doing their work?”

She hesitated.

“Vanessa said they were short-handed.”

“Have they paid you?”

Margaret shook her head.

“Not yet.”

Vanessa immediately said, “I promised I would.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“How much do they owe you?” Luca asked.

Margaret looked embarrassed.

“I didn’t keep track of every hour.”

I thought of her worn shoes.

The carefully brushed coat.

The money she’d spent having her hair done for this dinner.

She probably needed every dollar.

Luca noticed my expression.

“Claire?”

I hesitated.

“Sir, when I found Mrs. Bellini downstairs, she apologized for taking a seat on the bench.”

Margaret looked up.

I continued.

“She said she didn’t want the restaurant to think she was waiting for charity.”

Luca’s face changed.

Then he turned toward Vanessa.

“You let your mother work for free while telling me she was dead?”

Vanessa flinched.

“It wasn’t supposed to be free.”

“When were you going to pay her?”

“After the collection launched.”

“With what money?”

Vanessa looked toward her father.

Charles rubbed his jaw.

“Money comes in when orders are completed.”

Eleanor gave him a sharp look.

“Charles, stop.”

He turned.

“What?”

“You know that’s not the whole problem.”

The room became quiet again.

Eleanor’s hands were clasped so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

“We rented a larger showroom in September,” she said.

Charles stiffened.

“Eleanor.”

“We borrowed against the business to renovate it. Then two commercial clients canceled their orders.”

Luca listened.

“The deposits were supposed to fund the holiday collection,” she continued. “But some of the money went toward the showroom.”

“How much?”

Eleanor looked at Charles.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“That question needs an answer,” Luca said.

“Nearly eighty thousand,” Eleanor whispered.

Charles stood.

“We invested in the company’s future.”

“With money belonging to customers,” Luca replied.

“They’ll still receive their dresses.”

“How?”

Charles gestured toward Margaret.

“We have experienced seamstresses.”

Margaret looked up slowly.

“Charles, there are women waiting for their wages.”

He turned sharply.

“That’s not your concern.”

I saw Luca’s hand tighten against the chair.

“It is now.”

Margaret seemed startled.

Then she reached into the pocket of her navy coat.

She removed a small paper notebook.

The cover was faded blue.

“My mother kept her sewing measurements in a book like this,” she explained.

Vanessa’s eyes widened.

“Mom, you kept that?”

Margaret nodded.

“I didn’t want to forget anybody.”

She opened it.

Inside were names, measurements, dates, and little drawings of dresses.

Some pages had notes written in different handwriting.

“Mrs. Ortiz worked on the bodices,” Margaret said. “Helen finished the lace. June took the sleeves home.”

Eleanor stared at the names.

“Those women don’t work for us anymore.”

“They’ve been helping me,” Margaret replied.

“How many?” Luca asked.

“Seven besides me.”

“Have they been paid?”

Margaret turned a page.

“Not for the last two weeks.”

Charles rubbed his forehead.

“We planned to settle everything.”

“When?” Margaret asked.

He didn’t answer.

It was strange hearing her challenge him.

Earlier, she’d barely dared enter the dining room.

Now she sat with her little notebook open, asking the questions nobody else wanted to ask.

Luca looked at the pages.

“Twenty-eight dresses?”

Margaret nodded.

“Some are almost finished. Some aren’t.”

“Where are they?”

“Most are at the workroom. A few women took their pieces home.”

Eleanor leaned forward.

“Margaret, why didn’t you tell me the women were still working?”

Margaret looked surprised.

“Vanessa said you knew.”

Eleanor turned toward her stepdaughter.

Vanessa’s expression crumpled.

“I was trying to help.”

“By asking people to work without pay?”

“I thought we’d have the money by now.”

Luca looked between them.

“You all seem to have been waiting for somebody else to fix this.”

Nobody disagreed.

He opened Margaret’s notebook again.

Then stopped at a sketch of a gown with an unusual curved neckline and tiny pearl flowers along the sleeves.

He pointed to it.

“Is this one of the holiday designs?”

Margaret smiled faintly.

“Yes. I made the first one years ago.”

Vanessa reached toward the notebook.

“Mom—”

Margaret turned another page.

There was a smaller drawing of the same dress.

Beside it, she’d written a date from twelve years earlier.

I looked toward Eleanor.

Her face had lost all its color.

“Mrs. Bellini,” Luca asked, “where did you get this design?”

Margaret looked confused.

“From my mother. She taught me that neckline when I was a girl.”

Luca slowly lifted the brochure beside him.

The same gown was pictured on the cover.

Underneath were the words:

An exclusive Eleanor Bellini original.

Margaret stared.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she looked toward Vanessa.

“Honey, why is your grandmother’s wedding dress being sold under somebody else’s name?”