“How much for the dress and the painting together?” I asked.

“The dress is seventy-five. The painting I will give to you for two hundred. So two seventy-five.”

“You don’t even have a price tag on this painting. You should be able to give me a better price because I am buying two items.” But for once in my life, I was at a disadvantage. I had no idea the value of such things.

“You have a good eye.”

I hoped he didn’t think that giving me a compliment would diminish my objective. “Remember, I have cash.” In these places, cash was king. I wanted to appear confident. Confident enough to walk away.

“Okay. I will take some off the dress and this wonderful painting. I will give to you for two twenty-five.”

I had not planned to spend that much. My inner voice told me to walk away. But I had made the fatal mistake of falling in love.

“Two hundred,” I countered.

“Deal.”

Part of me was delighted by my purchases. I had purchased a vintage Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress for Elle. And I had purchased a beautiful painting for a job I had not secured yet.

I propped the painting in my bedroom. Even against the dull white wall that was in desperate need of paint, the painting popped. If I did lose the job, I’d have to keep telling myself the painting was not a folly. A week or so later, all my worry proved to be in vain.

I had taken the liberty of sending over my portfolio ahead of time. I had it tabbed, as always. The first tab contained presentations that Julian and I had done together with me as the lead designer. The second section, the one I was most proud of, featured projects I had done independently. It would go a long way toward establishing myself as my own designer apart from Julian. Even separate from the boys. The third section was devoted to awards I had garnered. The fourth, which I thought held special appeal to prospective clients, was the uptick in business they would receive after an article had been written about me. The fifth held references. Along with Julian, I had references from many of the deans of colleges I had designed for. I had been sketching ideas and the placement of the restaurant’s name in case Elliott hired me. I felt good. It was my goal to wean off all of the projects I had collaborated on with Julian until I had a portfolio that was completely mine.

Chapter Twelve

As I walked into his restaurant, I noticed that the big question mark sign was still hanging above the window. I would use this in my pitch to Elliott. I heard someone walking toward me. It was him.

He looked different. He was all cleaned up. He still had the little brown stubble that was either a characteristic of laziness or simply rugged good looks. He had on a pair of freshly starched khakis and a purple-and-white gingham shirt tucked into his trousers. It made an impression on me because many guys were wearing untucked shirts, and I simply hated it. I smiled back at him.