I Don't Want Your Love Out of Pity novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: Four and a Half Years

In New York, Leandra and Odette race to open their fashion show with the twins underfoot, and see Draper Land and Cattle on the guest list.

On the morning of our first Fashion Week show, Maisie stood on the cutting table in a tutu and told forty models she was in charge.

"Nobody touches the pins," she said. "Pins are for Mama."

She was four years old, and she had her whole fist around a tape measure.

Nobody argued with her.

I stood at the end of the workroom with my cane and watched my daughter run my show.

It had been four and a half years since I left the ranch.

Linwood & Castelluccio had two floors in the Garment District now, forty seamstresses and a waiting list.

I walked every day on my own legs, with a blackthorn cane and a brace under my skirt.

Four years of therapy, paid out of my own pocket, a little more each month.

My knee still locked when I was tired, and I did not mind.

"Maisie Rose," I said. "Down."

"But I'm helping."

"You can help from the floor."

Maisie climbed down with great dignity and ran at my legs.

She had brown curls she refused to let anyone brush, and gray eyes that were not mine.

I had trained myself years ago not to notice them.

Across the room, her sister sat under the pattern table with a box of crayons.

Bea did not talk much when strangers were around.

She was drawing a horse with a very long tail.

"What's that one, Bea?" I asked.

"It's a horse," Bea said. "A sad one."

"Why is he sad?"

She thought about it for the length of a whole breath.

"He's waiting for somebody."

I looked away from the drawing.

Odette came through the door with a clipboard held over her head and her red lipstick already on.

"Forty-one minutes to doors," she said. "We have a hem on number nine that has opinions, a bride who wants a refund, and a photographer who wants to know if the designer will say something moving."

"I'll say something moving."

"Say it kindly, please. He cried at the last one."

"He cried because I asked him to move his tripod."

"He cries easily. Come here, I need you to see something."

She pulled me aside by the elbow.

She was holding a printout of the front-row list.

"Row A," she said. "Six seats, confirmed this morning. Don't panic."

I looked at the paper.

Under "Sponsor Guests," there was a company name.

DRAPER LAND & CATTLE.

My hand tightened on the cane.

"That's a Wyoming ranch," I said. "Why does a Wyoming ranch have a front row?"

"They run a hotel arm now. Six new boutique hotels, and they're buying seats at every show this season to find a fashion partner. They emailed our publicist on Monday."

"Odette."

"I know."

"It's his name on the paper."

"I know, honey. I looked it up the second I saw it. He built half of Cheyenne since you left."

I found I was sitting down on a pile of muslin.

I did not remember deciding to.

Odette knelt in front of me and put the clipboard on the floor.

"We can pull the seats," she said. "I'll tell them it's a mistake. I'll tell them the venue is full."

"He'd come anyway."

"Then I'll have security stand in front of the door."

"Odette."

"I'm only saying it's an option."

On the floor, Maisie had followed us and was investigating the printout with great seriousness.

"What's a catt-ul?" she asked.

"A cow," Odette said. "A boring one."

I took the paper from Maisie, because she was going to read the rest of it.

The rest of it said:

"Mr. Conal Draper and guest, Ms. Priscilla Dane."

I read the name twice.

Four and a half years, and she was still the guest.

Nobody had married him, then.

I did not let myself ask why that mattered.

"I'm not pulling the seats," I said.

"Leandra."

"This is my show. I will not hide it in a closet because a man bought a row."

"You would be allowed to hide it in a closet."

"I know." I stood up, and my knee locked, and I waited for it to let go. "But I've done my hiding."

Odette looked at me for a moment.

Then she gave me back my cane, and the smile on her face was not entirely a happy one.

"Okay," she said. "But the twins are going upstairs with the sitter until it's over."

"They'll want to watch."

"They can watch from the monitor."

"Odette. They have his eyes."

"I know," Odette said. "That's why."

Forty minutes later, the lights went down in the hall, and the music started.

Backstage, my phone buzzed once.

It was our publicist: "Draper just walked in. He's early."

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