Karyn slipped past Fleur and into the dressing room. Eight gowns hung on a rack. Shelves were filled with shoes and accessories.
Gloriana came in immediately after, wearing a jogging suit that probably cost what Karyn made in a month. It emphasized Gloriana’s perfect body, made so by hard work—exercise and healthy eating—and a little help from her plastic surgeon. She looked far younger than her thirty-three years.
“There you are,” Gloriana said to Karyn.
“Yes, here I am. Good morning,” Karyn said, smiling serenely, feeling anything but calm.
“Mimosa, Ms. Macbeth?” Fleur asked, passing her a glass without waiting for a response. “I have a tray of pastries, also.”
“That’s not the way to keep one’s girlish figure.” She glanced at Karyn, as if to make a point. “So, what have you chosen?”
Karyn took one gown off the rack. It dazzled with sparkling beads. “This salmon would look wonderful with your skin.” Knowing Gloriana never said yes to the first selection, Karyn held up a teal silk charmeuse, her first choice. “Or this.”
Gloriana flipped through the rest of the gowns, their metal hangers zinging along the rack. “These won’t work.”
Karyn stared at her. “None of them?”
“I believe you have excellent hearing, Karyn.”
“Maybe if you try on the teal—”
“Call Lorenzo. Have him send over more.”
“It’s two days before Christmas, Glori. That’s not a request we can make. And you know if he had more that he thought would work, he would’ve sent more.”
Gloriana spun toward Karyn. “Are you telling me no?”
“You said it would take an hour of my time. I have other clients to help today and a plane to catch.” Karyn held up the two gowns she’d selected. “Either of these would be perfect for the cover. Choose.”
Gloriana stalked to the closest mirror. “I can’t do the shoot now. Look at my face. It’s all blotchy!”
Karyn’s stomach churned so violently she could hardly swallow. Stupid. She’d been so stupid. And yet it was all so silly to her, absolutely inane, to be rejecting perfectly beautiful gowns on a whim. So much was more important in the world.
But she’d never been rude to any of her clients, even when they’d provoked her enough to deserve rudeness in return. She prided herself on her self-control.
“I apologize,” Karyn said. “But I still can’t do what you ask.”
“I’m going to cut you some slack,” Glori said, coming up close, “since I know this is a hard time of year for you. You’ve been blunt, so I will be, too. I strongly recommend you take some time off and figure out if this is what you want to do because more and more I have observed that you’ve lost enthusiasm for it. Get back to painting, which you’ve been saying for years that you wanted to do.”
Karyn couldn’t do anything but nod. Her burning throat had closed tighter. She could barely breathe.
Gloriana cupped Karyn’s arm, which just about undid her. No one touched her these days.
“You’ve stopped talking about friends,” Glori said. “Or about going places and doing things, the way you did when you first came to work for me. I see in you what happened to me. You’ve stopped caring. Maybe you’ve stopped trusting, too. You feel abandoned by your brother, even though he didn’t die by choice. I know what that’s like. And, no, I’m not going to explain that. Just trust that I’m telling you the truth.
“Now, you can be like me and hide behind roles, or you can rediscover yourself and enjoy the life your brother would want you to have. But make up your mind, Karyn. Don’t let grief swallow you up anymore.”
Karyn nodded her head several times, was tempted to hug the woman yet wouldn’t be the one to instigate it, but then Gloriana walked away, the moment gone.
Karyn wanted to find joy again, to live the life Kyle would want for her, that she wanted for herself, but she didn’t know how to change it. She was hungry to share the news with someone, anyone, that he might have a daughter, and she wanted to meet her and hold her and love her, as he would’ve done if he’d known. She couldn’t tell anyone yet. Not even her parents, who still couldn’t talk about Kyle, even when Karyn tried to get them to open up about him and share their memories.
By rote, Karyn delivered her final purchases then drove home and packed her suitcase. Finished, she sank to the bed, shaking.
“I can’t do this,” she said, her face in her hands. She’d rather be alone than live through another Christmas like the three previous ones with her parents.
She didn’t hesitate another second but canceled her flight then called her mother—and lied.
“I’ve got a sinus infection, Mom. The doctor says I can’t fly. Maybe I can reschedule in a couple of weeks.”
“You do sound stuffy.”
Because she’d spent an hour straight crying.
“Karyn,” her mother said then stopped.
“What, Mom?”
There was a long pause, then she said softly, almost apologetically, “We have a tree this year.”
Shock slammed into Karyn. What did that mean? Should she see if she could get her seat back on the plane?
No. She wouldn’t be able to keep the news about Cassidy to herself. She couldn’t give her parents that kind of hope, especially if they were finally coming out of their grief.
For the first time in years they wished each other a Merry Christmas.
Feeling hollow, she pressed Vaughn Ryder’s number on her cell phone. After five rings she was about to hang up when she heard him say hello.
“It’s Karyn Lambert,” she said, trying to shake off her tenuous emotions.
“Karyn.”
Not a good start, she thought. He was all cool and businesslike. “I was wondering about the test results.”
She didn’t hear him sigh, but she was sure he had. “As I told you in an email yesterday, I saw you on Thursday. On Friday I shipped the sample. The lab was closed Saturday and Sunday, so they didn’t receive it until today. And, yes, they did receive it. I checked. It takes seven to ten days for results.”
“Oh.”
“I understand that you’re anxious, but we can’t hurry the process.”
“I just feel so far away.”
“I would agree that 550 miles is a long way. It’s almost to Oregon.” After a brief pause, he said, “The Huntsman’s Lodge is near our ranch. If you’d like to come up at some point and be nearby when the results are in, you’re welcome to. But if your brother isn’t the father, it’d be a useless trip.”
“I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
“Merry Christmas, Karyn.”
“And to you. And Cassidy.”
Take some time off. Gloriana’s words echoed in her head as Karyn hung up the phone. Now that she’d canceled her trip home, she could take Vaughn’s suggestion and drive north. Hang out nearby.
She looked up the motel on her cell phone, then checked the time. If she left at four in the morning, she could be only thirty miles from Ryder Ranch between four and five in the afternoon. She’d researched everything last week, hopeful, saving the route on her phone’s GPS.
Karyn reserved a room, then gathered up the gifts she’d already bought and wrapped for Cassidy, although