If the Stiletto Fits.... Wendy Etherington
tonight.”
“Out? Like a date?”
Raising his eyebrows, he leaned back in his chair. “I do have them occasionally.”
Lily recalled a brunette he’d brought to a cocktail party not long ago. The woman had been quiet and sweet—just the kind of date she’d expect James to choose. What was her name? Kate? Karly? Kelly. “Where are you and Kelly going?”
“I’m not going out with Kelly anymore. This is someone new.”
“Oh.” She waved. “Well, have fun.”
She headed down the hall and reached Garnet just as she was rounding the receptionist station.
“Look at the adorable bag I bought today.”
Despite her frustration, Lily had to smile. Garnet did have a great sense of fashion.
The bag looked just like a Chinese take-out carton, even down to the silver wire as a handle, except that the carton was covered in red-and-black satin. She took the bag, rubbing her fingers across the fabric. “It’s really great, Garnet, where—” She broke off as she recognized the small tag sewn on the bottom. “This is a Fabian LaRoche.”
Garnet took the bag back and danced around in a circle. “I know. Isn’t it the cutest!”
“This is a five-hundred-dollar bag. You don’t make that in a week.”
Garnet waved her hand and set the purse on her desk, admiring it like some people would a priceless artifact. “I put it on my AmEx. Daddy gets that bill.”
Lily opened her mouth automatically to advise her employee that she should take some responsibility for her own finances, but then remembered Garnet didn’t work for money. This was just her way of placating her father until she turned twenty-five and could get full control of her trust fund.
Raised in a strictly middle-class household, Lily wanted to pooh-pooh the excess. But this was the world she now lived in. She smiled. Ah, the sacrifices of living in the Big Apple.
Deciding a change of subject was in order, Lily leaned against Garnet’s desk. “We need to talk about phone messages.”
Garnet rolled her eyes. “Again?”
“James is having trouble getting accurate ones.”
“It’s not my fault! It’s that computer.” Garnet pointed to the screen beside her on the desk. Lowering her voice, she added, “It makes weird noises sometimes, and then I get this yellow exclamation-point thing and an error message.” She shuddered.
Lily shared her shudder. She’d seen that message. She glanced at the screen, which currently had a cartoon graphic of a pair of red stiletto pumps dancing across it—a creation by her friend and computer consultant, Gwen. And though she and Gwen could bond most any night over a favorite chardonnay, martini, movie or slice of gossip, she most certainly did not share her interest in technology.
“Hmm,” she said, trying to seem competent instead of intimidated. “That doesn’t sound good. I think James would prefer his messages e-mailed to him, or the caller transferred to his voice mail, if they’re agreeable. He’s not thrilled with pink message slips with little hearts drawn all over them.”
Garnet folded a piece of gum into her mouth. “He could stand to lighten up, you know.”
“I know. But he runs the office.”
“But you’re the boss, right? I mean, I like James and all.” She smacked her gum. “But women should stick together, don’t you think? I mean, you should understand that—you’re a total feminist, so—Hey, cool shoes!” She bent low so she could get a better look at the yellow stilettos. “Wow, these are great! What are you calling them?”
“Misty.”
“Tight. When do they hit the stores?”
“Any day now—along with the rest of the spring collection. This is the very first pair out of production.”
Garnet leaned back in her chair. “You always do that, right? Take the first pair, I mean. I think that’s awesome. See, that’s what I mean. A man would never think to make sure each and every one of his shoes was in his personal collection. I mean, really, why are men designing shoes for women, anyway?”
This was what talking to Garnet always did to a person. Lily was usually so dizzy after their conversations she generally forgot what she’d started out discussing. She wasn’t sure if Garnet’s brain was more advanced, or if she was just incapable of holding on to one subject for more than forty-five seconds.
“I really like your philosophy,” Garnet continued, mentally zigzagging. “Date a lot, settle on no one.”
Lily was mildly uncomfortable being a role model for a twenty-one-year-old. While she and Garnet were only seven years apart agewise, it seemed decades separated them in every other sense. Garnet and the girls she hung out with seemed so jaded and…well, fast—to use an old-fashioned word. She worried about them jumping into life and relationships before they were ready. “I do date a lot, I guess. But you understand I don’t sleep with every man I date.”
Garnet waved her hand. “Oh, yeah. Lots of scumbags out there who are only interested in getting laid. But how do you feel about blow jobs?”
Lily swallowed. “I, uh—” Wasn’t this a conversation a girl had with her mother? Since Lily knew she wasn’t ready for kids—and wasn’t sure she’d ever be—she certainly wasn’t the right person for this.
Quit being goofy. She talked about all aspects of sex with her girlfriends all the time.
Garnet’s bright, curious blue gaze was fixed on her face.
“I think you should consider all sexual acts carefully.”
Garnet pursed her lips. “That’s a good philosophy. Now, about the messages…I promise to e-mail them if he’ll take a look at this computer and those weird exclamation points.”
Her head still spinning from the tangents they’d veered off on, Lily glared down at her receptionist. “If that was the problem, why didn’t you just tell him that?”
Garnet glanced from side to side, then leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t tell anybody, but he kind of intimidates me sometimes.”
Lily could definitely relate. She and Garnet were talkers. James was most certainly not. She figured Garnet felt the same way she did—quiet people made her nervous. Dead silence was a space she was obligated to fill. “Okay, well, let’s see what we can do.”
“You’re going to help with the computer?”
“Hey, I did all this stuff on my own before you two got here.” Admittedly not too well, but she’d managed. She leaned toward the phone. “Let’s start with the voice mail. I’m extension one, James is extension two. When you need to forward a call to his voice mail you press this button, then this one.” Lily demonstrated with a pointing finger.
“And when I need to forward a call to you?”
She’d actually told most anyone she could think of to call her cell when they needed to get in touch with her. “Same thing, just press this—” She stopped and considered the phone pad and its myriad similar-looking buttons. “How about color-coded labels? Blue for James, pink for me.”
Garnet grabbed her arm. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
They spent a few minutes finding labels, cutting them into two small sections, then coloring them with Lily’s sketching pencils. Now that the buttons on the phone were colors instead of numbers, she could only pray Garnet would get things right. She couldn’t afford to piss off James and lose his host of office skills.
“Now for the e-mail.” Lily eyed the computer with innate distrust, then closed her eyes and pressed the spacebar. When she opened them, the dancing shoes had