maniacal laugh. “He’s been doing this since the fifties. He can assess your measurements in a glance.”
I take a breath; it’s the one that I need to take so I don’t strangle her. Angie grabs my hand and drags me from the boutique. The air on the street is remarkable. It’s crisp and cool but fresh and cleansing. And the open space, even in New York, is a better feeling than any.
“Jane!”
I turn to see Dash jogging up the street.
“You’re early,” I shout back, with a wave and an instant smile that he always puts on my lips.
“I got worried. My mom and Melody and the dresses—it made me think you might not be doing so well. That maybe this wasn’t the distraction you needed.”
I laugh and look at Angie. “It was exactly the distraction I needed.”
Angie laughs with me. “Aye, me too. Those people in there are terrible, and yer mother, Dash, was in prime form, a real ballbuster today. Even Melody took a couple hits.”
I wished I had seen more of those. The only one I really saw was when she got bitchy about Dash’s name.
He winces as he walks to us, kissing me on the cheek and quickly hugging Angie. “Well, for all that, I am sorry. I have heard Georges is a fairly amazing designer.”
I can’t help but smile. “He’s amazing. Sort of sharp and spicy, but impressive. He’s making me a dress.”
Dash looks concerned. “You didn’t find one, then?”
“They don’t work.” Angie nods. “She’s small and shaped funny. So he is just going to custom one up.”
He isn’t fooled. “My mother tried picking dresses that would show your scars, didn’t she?”
I bite my lip.
He sighs and covers his eyes. “I told her there were scars from the accident on your back and stomach that you didn’t like showing. I was hoping she wouldn’t use them as her modus operandi for torturing you.”
I shrug. “It didn’t work. But it doesn’t matter. If I end up telling them I was a spy and an assassin and a master sergeant, then I do. I don’t care. And besides, Georges has endured far worse and he’s a much better man for it. This won’t kill me. Nothing else has.”
“I heard he was in Alsace as a boy, only ten when the Germans took it. His family was Jewish, therefore they were sent to Natzweiler-Struthof. Somehow he managed to stay alive, but his parents died there in the camp. An uncle took him in and raised him as a dressmaker. He came to America when he was thirty and now runs both this shop and the one in Paris that his uncle owned.”
Angie cocks an eyebrow. “Look who’s a wealth of knowledge! Does yer mother know all of this as well?”
“I’m sure she’s been told the story. Whether she cares to recall it is another matter. My mother doesn’t bother about anything but herself, Henry, and me. And in that order I’m afraid.” He laughs, but only lifts one side of his lip, revealing that sharp incisor I love so much. “I, on the other hand, enjoy getting to know people. It’s another thing we disagree on.”
I wince at the name Henry. I hate that Dash’s brother was part of the disgusting crimes Rory committed in the brothel. I hate that the family is humiliated by the outcome of my work. I sigh and lean in, letting his warmth seep into me. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“Okay, I can take a hint. You two need some alone time.” Angie waves her hand at him. “What time is dinner then?”
Dash winces, making me groan. “Noooooo.”
He pleads with his eyes. “It’s one meal. They’re very excited about the wedding. Please, one dinner and maybe a brunch and then we are back to DC and you can start your resignation letter as well.”
Angie looks shocked. “Yer leaving the team as well, then?”
I realize I’ve held it together remarkably for her. “I am. I need some ‘me’ time.”
“Too many runs and too many crazy people.” She sighs. “I feel that.” A forced smile spreads across her face. “My new gig will be a lot less
I take a breath; it’s the one that I need to take so I don’t strangle her. Angie grabs my hand and drags me from the boutique. The air on the street is remarkable. It’s crisp and cool but fresh and cleansing. And the open space, even in New York, is a better feeling than any.
“Jane!”
I turn to see Dash jogging up the street.
“You’re early,” I shout back, with a wave and an instant smile that he always puts on my lips.
“I got worried. My mom and Melody and the dresses—it made me think you might not be doing so well. That maybe this wasn’t the distraction you needed.”
I laugh and look at Angie. “It was exactly the distraction I needed.”
Angie laughs with me. “Aye, me too. Those people in there are terrible, and yer mother, Dash, was in prime form, a real ballbuster today. Even Melody took a couple hits.”
I wished I had seen more of those. The only one I really saw was when she got bitchy about Dash’s name.
He winces as he walks to us, kissing me on the cheek and quickly hugging Angie. “Well, for all that, I am sorry. I have heard Georges is a fairly amazing designer.”
I can’t help but smile. “He’s amazing. Sort of sharp and spicy, but impressive. He’s making me a dress.”
Dash looks concerned. “You didn’t find one, then?”
“They don’t work.” Angie nods. “She’s small and shaped funny. So he is just going to custom one up.”
He isn’t fooled. “My mother tried picking dresses that would show your scars, didn’t she?”
I bite my lip.
He sighs and covers his eyes. “I told her there were scars from the accident on your back and stomach that you didn’t like showing. I was hoping she wouldn’t use them as her modus operandi for torturing you.”
I shrug. “It didn’t work. But it doesn’t matter. If I end up telling them I was a spy and an assassin and a master sergeant, then I do. I don’t care. And besides, Georges has endured far worse and he’s a much better man for it. This won’t kill me. Nothing else has.”
“I heard he was in Alsace as a boy, only ten when the Germans took it. His family was Jewish, therefore they were sent to Natzweiler-Struthof. Somehow he managed to stay alive, but his parents died there in the camp. An uncle took him in and raised him as a dressmaker. He came to America when he was thirty and now runs both this shop and the one in Paris that his uncle owned.”
Angie cocks an eyebrow. “Look who’s a wealth of knowledge! Does yer mother know all of this as well?”
“I’m sure she’s been told the story. Whether she cares to recall it is another matter. My mother doesn’t bother about anything but herself, Henry, and me. And in that order I’m afraid.” He laughs, but only lifts one side of his lip, revealing that sharp incisor I love so much. “I, on the other hand, enjoy getting to know people. It’s another thing we disagree on.”
I wince at the name Henry. I hate that Dash’s brother was part of the disgusting crimes Rory committed in the brothel. I hate that the family is humiliated by the outcome of my work. I sigh and lean in, letting his warmth seep into me. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“Okay, I can take a hint. You two need some alone time.” Angie waves her hand at him. “What time is dinner then?”
Dash winces, making me groan. “Noooooo.”
He pleads with his eyes. “It’s one meal. They’re very excited about the wedding. Please, one dinner and maybe a brunch and then we are back to DC and you can start your resignation letter as well.”
Angie looks shocked. “Yer leaving the team as well, then?”
I realize I’ve held it together remarkably for her. “I am. I need some ‘me’ time.”
“Too many runs and too many crazy people.” She sighs. “I feel that.” A forced smile spreads across her face. “My new gig will be a lot less
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