As I spoke, I could see Renata’s interest growing. I already knew about her inability to afford the look she wanted in her home and her husband’s reluctance to pay for what he called frivolity. “Do you have a card?” she asked. “I’d love to talk more with you about this.”
***
Renata’s party was well underway by the time I arrived. As I stepped through the front door, I couldn’t help but appreciate that she really did have a good eye for design. The room was lit with candles clustered on surfaces, giving the space a flickering magic. The yellow fabric I’d chosen to re-cover her chairs and couch glowed golden in the light, and people stood in small groups, holding wine glasses and nibbling on passed hors d’oeuvres.
Renata hurried to greet me. “I’m so glad you could come,” she said. “Everyone loves the pieces and I’ll bet you get at least three new clients just from tonight alone.” She lowered her voice. “I hope it’s okay I let slip that the fabric was originally bought by Sarah Jessica Parker—it was out of my mouth before I could stop it.”
I smiled. “Totally fine. It’s not a secret that I’ve done some decorating work for her. I think we had a spread in Vanity Fair a couple years back. She’ll be happy to hear it’s been put to good use.” My eyes scanned the space until I found Phillip, standing near the edge of the room, talking with another man. He was taller than I expected, wearing a button-down shirt and navy slacks that strained around the waist, making it clear life without Celia was one of indulgence.
Renata followed my gaze and said, “That’s my brother, Phillip. He’s the CEO and founder of Prince Foods—you know, the grocery store chain?”
“I love that market,” I told her. I’d walked the aisles earlier that day, noting the high prices and organic, non-GMO labels. “They have the best produce.”
Renata’s voice softened. “He’s a really great guy, but he’s going through a tough divorce.” She looked back at me, a gleam in her eye. “Maybe you should meet him.”
I shook my head. “I’m not ready for anything like that,” I told her. “It’s too soon.”
Renata waved away my words. “Who says anything has to happen right now? Just meet him.”
“Let me at least get a drink first.”
Renata directed me toward the bar, where a uniformed bartender was serving various types of wine and beer. “I’m going to play around with the seating arrangements,” she told me.
With a glass of white wine in hand, I hugged the perimeter of the room, taking small sips. Approaches needed to be flawless, striking just the right note. I went through the steps in my mind again and tried to imagine Celia among these people. Laughing at inside jokes, making plans to meet for lunch or for a tennis game at the club. I wondered what she was doing tonight while all her old friends gathered to celebrate an overpriced pair of chairs and a couch. How many of them had checked in on her, or thought about what Phillip was doing to her? Did any of them think it was unfair? Did they worry about her, or had she fallen off their radar, only set to power and influence?
“Dinner is served,” Renata called from the other side of the room. “Please find your seats.” She looked at me from across the room and gave me a tiny wink.
***
The table felt both formal and intimate, with centerpieces of flowers that looked as if they’d been cut from her garden and arranged in low crystal vases. Next to me, Phillip took his seat and shook out his napkin, placing it in his lap. “Renata tells me you’re a decorator and a life coach?” he said, holding out his hand. “That’s a combination I haven’t heard before. Phillip Montgomery.”
“Melody Wilde,” I said, shaking it.
We each picked up our forks and began to eat our salads as conversations around us ebbed and flowed, bouncing from one topic to the next. Finally, he asked, “So, Melody, what brings you to town?”