her.
Olivia grinned as she rearranged the pillows
behind her on the floor. "What Eve means, Gwen, is that a tribute
to the Grateful Dead isn't the direction you want to take your
art."
Gwen frowned and rolled onto her side to
face Olivia. "Are you sure? I think it'll sell really well."
"The tribal theme you did
for your opening was spectacular. But I don't think tie-dye gourds
are in the same niveau ."
Gwen nodded slowly, absorbing the
advice.
"Niveau?" asked Lainie with a puzzled
frown.
"Level," Gwen absently explained.
Olivia cocked a brow. She hadn't realized
Gwen knew any French.
"Oh." Lainie pointed to the lamps that lit
the room. "Did you design those as well?"
"Yes."
Lainie leaned over to look at one more
closely. "They're lovely."
It'd been over a week since Lainie walked
into Romantic Notions. Earlier this evening she'd run into the
woman on her way out of the house and, on impulse, she asked Lainie
to join them.
Olivia hadn't been sure how Lainie would fit
in, being so reserved. After a glass of wine, she'd kicked off her
shoes, curled her legs under her, and burrowed into the other end
of the couch. She contributed to conversation shyly, but it was
charming rather than off-putting. Eve and Gwen certainly took to
her. There was something endearing about her, something that made
you want to take her under your wing and protect her.
At the same time, she knew without a doubt
that Lainie was hiding something. And she couldn't figure out what
that might be.
Gwen turned to Olivia. "So you think I
should do something more classic?"
"More classy . Your shop is in Laurel
Heights. You want to differentiate yourself from the craftsy types.
I think your art could become fashionable. You could charge a
buttload once your name gets out."
"I don't want my name to get out. Not in a
big way."
"But you do want to be known for
beautiful art."
"Yes."
Olivia nodded. "The grand opening idea was
great though. Don't rule that out."
"I'd be happy to help you cater it," Eve
offered.
"We should talk about something else," Gwen
said. "Lainie must be bored."
Lainie shook her head. "Oh no. Don't stop
plotting on my account."
"Olivia hasn't even started," Eve said. "She
can plot better than John Grisham."
Gwen poured some more wine for herself and
offered some to Lainie. "I didn't say Olivia couldn't still plot,
but we should talk about something other than work. Get on with
girls' night."
"What do you usually do on girls' night?"
Lainie asked, holding her glass out.
Gwen shrugged. "The usual kind of girl
things, I suppose."
Eve held her glass out for a refill too.
"Like eating, drinking, and talking about men."
"It's been a long time since I've had a
girls' night," Lainie admitted. "Working at Parker Pictures doesn't
give me much free time."
Olivia grunted. Of course it didn't. Her
father was demanding. She could just imagine Lainie's schedule. She
hoped the woman received war pay.
Eve patted Lainie's knee. "We're glad you
could come tonight."
"Enough of this." Gwen punched the pillow in
her lap. "Let's talk about men."
Lainie's brow wrinkled. "What about
men?"
Olivia laughed. "Well, usually Eve tells us
how scrumptious her husband is and we all drool with envy."
Gwen perked up, her curls bouncing around
her face. "Speaking of scrumptious, I saw this guy hanging around
Olivia's shop."
"What guy?" Eve asked.
"He looks like a surfer god. He's tall and
tan and gorgeous." Gwen rolled her eyes back in rhapsody. "He has
wavy hair that's the color of syrup drizzled on French toast—"
"That sounds like Michael Wallace," said
Lainie. "He's the director of the movie."
"He's a stud." Gwen sighed.
"He's a jerk." Olivia pointed at Gwen. "Stay
away from him for your own good."
Eve cocked an eyebrow at her. She shrugged
in reply. She was concerned about Gwen's welfare. She didn't want
her friend to be taken in by Michael's sweet-talking. It had
nothing to do with the thought of Gwen and Michael together. Not
Olivia grinned as she rearranged the pillows
behind her on the floor. "What Eve means, Gwen, is that a tribute
to the Grateful Dead isn't the direction you want to take your
art."
Gwen frowned and rolled onto her side to
face Olivia. "Are you sure? I think it'll sell really well."
"The tribal theme you did
for your opening was spectacular. But I don't think tie-dye gourds
are in the same niveau ."
Gwen nodded slowly, absorbing the
advice.
"Niveau?" asked Lainie with a puzzled
frown.
"Level," Gwen absently explained.
Olivia cocked a brow. She hadn't realized
Gwen knew any French.
"Oh." Lainie pointed to the lamps that lit
the room. "Did you design those as well?"
"Yes."
Lainie leaned over to look at one more
closely. "They're lovely."
It'd been over a week since Lainie walked
into Romantic Notions. Earlier this evening she'd run into the
woman on her way out of the house and, on impulse, she asked Lainie
to join them.
Olivia hadn't been sure how Lainie would fit
in, being so reserved. After a glass of wine, she'd kicked off her
shoes, curled her legs under her, and burrowed into the other end
of the couch. She contributed to conversation shyly, but it was
charming rather than off-putting. Eve and Gwen certainly took to
her. There was something endearing about her, something that made
you want to take her under your wing and protect her.
At the same time, she knew without a doubt
that Lainie was hiding something. And she couldn't figure out what
that might be.
Gwen turned to Olivia. "So you think I
should do something more classic?"
"More classy . Your shop is in Laurel
Heights. You want to differentiate yourself from the craftsy types.
I think your art could become fashionable. You could charge a
buttload once your name gets out."
"I don't want my name to get out. Not in a
big way."
"But you do want to be known for
beautiful art."
"Yes."
Olivia nodded. "The grand opening idea was
great though. Don't rule that out."
"I'd be happy to help you cater it," Eve
offered.
"We should talk about something else," Gwen
said. "Lainie must be bored."
Lainie shook her head. "Oh no. Don't stop
plotting on my account."
"Olivia hasn't even started," Eve said. "She
can plot better than John Grisham."
Gwen poured some more wine for herself and
offered some to Lainie. "I didn't say Olivia couldn't still plot,
but we should talk about something other than work. Get on with
girls' night."
"What do you usually do on girls' night?"
Lainie asked, holding her glass out.
Gwen shrugged. "The usual kind of girl
things, I suppose."
Eve held her glass out for a refill too.
"Like eating, drinking, and talking about men."
"It's been a long time since I've had a
girls' night," Lainie admitted. "Working at Parker Pictures doesn't
give me much free time."
Olivia grunted. Of course it didn't. Her
father was demanding. She could just imagine Lainie's schedule. She
hoped the woman received war pay.
Eve patted Lainie's knee. "We're glad you
could come tonight."
"Enough of this." Gwen punched the pillow in
her lap. "Let's talk about men."
Lainie's brow wrinkled. "What about
men?"
Olivia laughed. "Well, usually Eve tells us
how scrumptious her husband is and we all drool with envy."
Gwen perked up, her curls bouncing around
her face. "Speaking of scrumptious, I saw this guy hanging around
Olivia's shop."
"What guy?" Eve asked.
"He looks like a surfer god. He's tall and
tan and gorgeous." Gwen rolled her eyes back in rhapsody. "He has
wavy hair that's the color of syrup drizzled on French toast—"
"That sounds like Michael Wallace," said
Lainie. "He's the director of the movie."
"He's a stud." Gwen sighed.
"He's a jerk." Olivia pointed at Gwen. "Stay
away from him for your own good."
Eve cocked an eyebrow at her. She shrugged
in reply. She was concerned about Gwen's welfare. She didn't want
her friend to be taken in by Michael's sweet-talking. It had
nothing to do with the thought of Gwen and Michael together. Not
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