Annette Blair by A Veiled Deception (Vintage Mystery 1)

Author:A Veiled Deception (Vintage Mystery 1)
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-29T21:00:00+00:00

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Fifteen

Haute couture consists of secrets whispered from generation to generation . . .—YVES SAINT

LAURENT

“What are you doing in here with Sherry’s gown?” Deborah asked. “We keep this door closed.”

I’d come back to the present with such a jolt that my mind raced for old and new answers. “A closed door,” I said, probably too fast. “Precisely why I thought it was a bathroom. Why was it closed? It’s such a beautiful room.”

Her gaze slid from mine toward some unknown distance beyond me. “I’ve never been fond of this room,” she said.

If I had truly seen the past just now, with Deborah in it, had she once confronted the mysterious dark-haired bride, jolting her with fright the way she’d just jolted me?

I mean, I had an empathetic heartbeat running like a gerbil on its wheel at midnight.

I’d always known that Deborah was a force to be reckoned with, but she’d never been quite as terrifying as she was at this moment.

“You’re on the wrong floor,” she said, acting normal, for Deborah, and in the now again.

I brought the gown back to the mannequin to redress it and gather my wits. “I know. I got lost right away, and your gorgeous stairway beckoned. You shouldn’t expect anything less in this showplace, Deborah. It was like I was swept into another world. I mean, it’s all so luxurious and stately, like a beacon in a historic tapestry.”

Scrap, I’d better stop kissing “class” before I ended up testing my gag reflex. “This room in particular seemed to call my name the minute I opened the door. I sat to rock and enjoy its classic atmosphere.

And there was Sherry’s gown just waiting for me to learn its secrets .” I stressed the word “secrets” on purpose and watched Deborah for a reaction.

She didn’t even blink.

“I know the room has secrets,” I said, trying again.

Still no reaction, but her poker face gave away her need to hide her emotions.

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“Well, dear, I can see why it called to you. This was once a sewing room, and you do take in sewing.”

“I’m a designer. A world-class New York designer. Have you bought a Faline in the past five years? I probably designed it.”

I was annoyed with myself for falling in with her verbal one-upmanship. And yet, why not make the best of it? “After I fit the gown to Sherry, I’ll send Faline pictures of it, and get her to send me a dated Faline label for a side seam. That’ll add to the gown’s provenance and value.” Only a slight truth stretch. With a vintage redesign, the label would only help the gown retain its value.

Deborah’s eyes, like little slot machine windows, went cha-ching . I smiled despite myself. “You should have someone document the gown’s history on acid-free paper so Sherry can keep the history with the dress when she has it preserved after the wedding.”

Okay, so I was getting in another shot. The

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