"Girl, satin is the fabric spawn of Satan," Shauna was telling her assistant. "I'm convinced, and no one can tell me otherwise."
"I think it looks great," the young lady said. "If it's what Miss Granger chose, it can't be that bad."
"Oh, bless your innocent soul," was all Shauna responded with as she exchanged a knowing glance with Lizzy, who was listening in on their conversation as she ticked off a list of fabrics they had just received.
Ticking off the list was somewhat therapeutic.
Since Josh had clinched a spot in the latest photo shoot project, taking most of the boutique's help with him, Lizzy found herself managing the storefront one afternoon. She was leaning over the counter-top, playing with a roll of ribbon between her fingers, when something odd caught her eye.
A short, middle-aged man stuck out like a sore thumb in front of the trendy boutique. The urge to avoid kicked in immediately. However, she approached him. When he noticed her walking forward, he did not duck his head as she expected. There seemed to be little shame in his eyes as opposed to the week before.
"My name is Lawrence," he started. "I'm..."
Lizzy countered his introduction with a swift, "I know who you are."
She gestured to the store behind her. "Is there anything here that interests you, Sir?" she asked in her best customer service voice, keeping her tone balanced.
Osborne, seeing through her intimidation ploy, didn't seem phased in the least. "I came to speak with you," he said with his gravelly voice attempting a balanced tone of his own. He seemed intent on standing where he was, rooted to the ground.
Lizzy wondered how he mustered up the nerve to come to the boutique now of all times. She briefly recalled something Chase had said about the old man's cowardice when it came to confrontation. So, when the man apologized, Lizzy felt stumped.
"Your apology doesn't change anything," she stated matter-of-factly, causing the man to wince. Her face softened. She hadn't meant for her words to come out as sharp as it sounded. But really, what was he even apologizing for? If Tarryn had been right about something, it was the fact that the past was unchangeable. Done really was done.
"I didn't come here to explain my side of the story or change the way you feel about things," he said. "The Lord knows I've paid my dues as best I could."
Lizzy crossed her arms, raising her eyebrow as she waited for him to continue. "Then if this isn't about David Richter why are you here?" she asked, surprised at how she was able to keep collected when saying it. In fact, she surprised herself with how calm she was standing face to face with him. She reasoned that she owed it to the fact that she felt utterly spent.
Lawrence opened and closed his mouth as he searched for his words. In simple terms he said, "It's about my son."
Lizzy looked around for a familiar baseball cap and shades, wondering if he perhaps put his father up to this. However, it didn't seem likely in the least.
"Chase is a good man," Osborne went on to explain. "I heard some of what you both were arguing about that day. I had no idea what he had in his mind, that boy. I asked him to explain himself and his intentions were good. He may have jumped the gun but it came from a good place."
Just as she was about to reply, the older man raised a hand, cutting her off. He explained that on that day in the Richter's house he had realized that there was nothing he could do or say that would make an ounce of a difference in their lives. He told her that that was a concept Chase hadn't agreed with.
"Like I said, there's nothing that I can do to make up for my part in the past and how any of you feel about it. I don't expect you to forgive me, and it's not his job to seek it for me. It never was."
She felt that it wasn't Osborne's job to seek "forgiveness" for his son either. Lizzy didn't fully buy his words, but she had to give him credit for his bravery.
"It would have been easier if my son reported back to me like a spy," he sighed. "He doesn't speak to me about some things, but I can see that he's been down since that morning. I can see this is eating him up," he revealed, giving Lizzy a meaningful look as he hoped she understood what he was alluding to.
Like his son, Lawrence Osborne appeared wholehearted and honest. Then again, Chase wasn't the person she had thought he was. Yes, his personality and his words may have been real, but all of that was layered on top of his true identity and the fact that he hid it from her. Whether his initial intentions were pure or not, Lizzy knew that she couldn't face him again...Not after everything said during their outburst.
"Does he know that you came here?"
"I haven't told him," the man responded, surprising Lizzy. She had assumed his son had driven him here, recalling hearing that his father no longer drove. She looked down at the man's shoes; realizing that he wore the thick, clumpy brand meant for running.
"Please keep it that way," she said, bringing her attention back to his words. Her eyes shone with emotion when she elaborated. "I'm not ready to see him yet and I don't know when I will be."
After that exchange, Lizzy seemed to have overcome her tipping point. Romantic or platonic, having one's heart set on someone was a recipe for pain. She supposed it was much like threading a needle. The risk for a prick was there, but it was also part of the process. She supposed pain was a side-effect of feeling. Shoving those thoughts out of her mind, she decided to put all her attention towards things within her grasp.
Keeping in mind Sam's advice, Lizzy chose to anchor her psyche into to the plan of opening her boutique. She made sure her goal was reasonable and achievable, breaking it up into little steps that she would take to meet her dream. She had checked her savings, registered for a short online business course, and busied herself by searching for locations. Sometimes she would think of Chase and his enthusiasm about her dream boutique. The thought would send a rush of melancholy through her.
Lizzy wasn't sure what would become of Osborne, but as he left she noticed his shoulders easing as he folded his hands behind his back and carried on his walk. She could tell that forgiveness wasn't something he sought any longer and he was well on his way to moving on.
She thought about the letter she had written to David, folded into an airplane, and threw into the wind.
Perhaps she had long since moved on too.
Brittany Granger was a slave-driver, if ever there was one. She accepted Lizzy's letter of resignation without any theatrics, well aware of the new change in her demeanor, and that perhaps the time to leave the nest had finally arrived. Still, the Boss Lady had Lizzy working madly before the time for her to leave would arrive. One month flew by in which Lizzy was tasked with the project of designing a wedding gown of haut couture proportions. The project was intensive, challenging, and fun. By the end of it, with renewed vigor, she discovered that she could sketch wedding gowns without it having any adverse effect on her emotional state— a concern Shauna didn't fail to hide when she partnered up with Lizzy once more.
Honestly, despite all the headaches, working on the project had Lizzy feeling exhilarated. Perhaps the client's large spending budget had something to do with it... The dress was made from the finest selection of hand-picked fabric that would no doubt have those who appreciated textures drooling. For some reason, the bride had an affinity for cream-colored fur, a taste that Granger wholeheartedly approved of. All in all, Lizzy was especially pleased to see the dress in action during the client's fitting; a mannequin could never do a wedding gown justice after all.
She had earned an exasperated groan from Josh when she and Shauna personally received an invitation to the wedding. Little did he know, being acquainted with the bride certainly had something to do with it.
"Thanks for coming, you," the auburn-haired beauty had said, kissing Lizzy's cheeks in a gesture of overwhelming gratitude. Suffice to say, Lizzy still found herself scrambling to recall her name, despite the many emails they had exchanged during the project's run time.
Wearing a burgundy satin evening dress that elegantly shaped her figure, Lizzy hovered nearby one of the stone pillars decorated with sparkling fairy lights. She listened to the conversations around her, smiling gently as she saw the bride and groom circulating to talk to the guests.
Soon, the music lowered, and the groom took center stage, mic in hand. "Helvetica and I are exceptionally touched by the presence of everyone here and the generous gifts you all came out with," he said, adding a few extra words of thanks, as well as his wish for the attendants to enjoy their time here as much as he and his wife would enjoy the rest of their lives together.
Applause resounded.
A raffle was being held to declare the individuals who would start off the evening of dancing with a waltz. As Lizzy folded her piece of paper, slipping it in the box held out in front of her, she chatted to the person next to her who commented on the eccentricity of the idea. Lizzy agreed, it really was such a strange idea, but it certainly kicked mundane tradition in the teeth in the most magnificent way.
"And now for the announcement: the two lucky people who will start with the opening waltz..." the MC's enthusiastic voice boomed out.
Lizzy was about to sip on her drink when she heard her name being called out. She blinked, confused, as she was nudged forward with encouraging smiles until she reached the dance floor. When the MC called the second name, Lizzy's heart lurched. It was so sudden, she barely had time to react when she came face to face with her tuxedo-clad partner.
"Hi," greeted a familiar dulcet voice. He seemed steady, collected, despite the blatant surprise in his dark orbs.
The music began, and cheers of encouragement arose, kick starting the two into the dance, before remnants of discomfort had the chance to manifest. Lizzy was increasingly aware of his hand, strong and supportive, on her lower back as he guided her through the dance. One by one couples joined them on the dance floor, effectively trapping the two in their dance, so that there was no room to escape even if they had wanted to.
They swayed side to side in relative silence until Chase attempted to break the ice. "You're a good dancer," she heard him whisper.
"For a hermit crab," she completed automatically. It was as if she was programmed to always respond to him in that manner.
There was a slight pause and she felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. What was she thinking?
Chase surprised her by letting out a hearty chuckle that vibrated through his shoulders. This was the closest she had ever been to Chase, she realized, when some strands of his hair tickling her cheek. She had to concentrate, fighting the urge to sneeze.
The evening was filled with delicious food, refreshments, and a live band. The venue was extravagant and the opportunities for networking was plentiful. But the highlight of the evening, if Lizzy's thoughts was anything to go by, was her short time spent with Chase. They hadn't spoken much, and separated once the waltz had ended and livelier music was played.
Lizzy found herself unconsciously seeking him out in the crowd. Internally, she berated herself for her idiocy. What was the point, when she didn't even know what she would say to him? Her heart seemed to enjoy contradicting her common sense. So, she went out to the courtyard for fresh air.
The gurgling of the fountain caught her attention and she walked up to it. She ran her fingers through her long hair, looking down at her reflection to see the crescent moon reflected in the water. How pretty.
The peaceful atmosphere was ruined by a rustling noise coming from the bushes. Curiously, she walked towards the scampering sound. She didn't expect to find a man laying flat on the paved ground, his expensive tuxedo crinkled, and his one eye squinting as he looked into the lens. It was then when she noticed the kitten idly minding its own business.
When Chase noticed her, he had almost dropped his camera. His expression froze, and Lizzy held her breath, not keen on the awkwardness that would most likely transpire.
Silence reigned for a solid few seconds and then a small grin appeared on his face. "Before you ask, I'm not the hired photographer for the wedding," he said.
Lizzy shook her head as he diverted his attention back to the kitten, who licked away at its paws, not once deigning to grace the strange human with its attention. Just as Lizzy was about to leave, Chase appeared to have finished his photo. "Old habits," he explained as he stood up, his black suit containing speckles of dust.
"Your tie's all skew," she told him. He brought his hand up to it, hopelessly fidgeting around and disturbing it even further. Lizzy reached out and straightened it. It was such a natural habit for her that it didn't occur to her how strange it appeared until she met Chase's dark eyes.
He held her gaze and neither said a word, until he cleared his throat and thanked her. She offered a nod in reply. Faded tunes from inside wafted into the courtyard. Something between the both of them felt reserved; neither of them seemed to know how to proceed.
"That was different. I've never participated in a raffle at a wedding before," he commented. For the sake of polite small talk, he told her how surprised he was at the results since he hadn't recognized her amongst the many guests.
"I almost didn't recognize you without your baseball cap," she said.
"Oh, I thought you didn't approve of that look," he quipped. She could only shrug in response.
Later, Lizzy reflected on their short interaction. The phantom touch of his hands on her shoulders, the warmth of his presence, awoke a sincere longing that sent Lizzy's mind reeling.
She was amazed at how their bleak conversation had suddenly slipped into something that resembled their usual banter. They had been interrupted before either could really speak further, but in that short exchange, Lizzy was forced to acknowledge the void she had in her heart.
She missed Chase. A lot.
