The Claiming of Sadie Graves Read online

  The psychologist also helped me get past my inability to sleep and my memories of forced orgasm and being held down. Dusty was deviously brilliant, really. He made sure I could never say I didn’t enjoy what he did to me. I still struggle with the memory of his touch, and how he controlled me. But I’m working on it.

  My mother found out two years after I left that Dusty was molesting the ten-year-old daughter of one of his ranch hands. She called the police. The victim testified against him; she was so brave. Dusty was tried and sentenced to 10 years in prison. The day he was transported to Oklahoma’s Department of Corrections, I felt free. My mother sold her half of the ranch back to Dusty’s parents and moved to Napa.

  She met and married husband number three the next year. I declined to attend. Don’t get me wrong; I love my mother. But I just couldn’t bring myself to go across country after what I’d experienced. Being home meant being with my dad, even if it was painful all around.

  I look back into the mirror, at my reflection. I put my hair into an updo with loose tendrils, and clip a pair of dangling pearl earring into my ears. I smooth powder onto my face, add lip gloss, blush and a little mascara.

  Looking smart at work is a must, so today I shrug on my “uniform” – a black matte jersey wrap dress with long sleeves and a hemline just above the knee. The dress ties with a grosgrain ribbon, making me look long (thank God) but not wide. Anna would notice and change me into something else in a heartbeat if I don’t look brand-worthy enough. I pair it with opaque black tights and short black booties. They have a tallish heel but I find them more comfortable to stand in for long hours than flat shoes. I look up. Ack! When did it get to be so late? I whisk into the kitchen, concoct my tea, pour it into a Tervis tumbler, and prepare to leave. I grab my handbag, work portfolio and smartphone, and beat it out the door.

  Chapter Two

  “What a Difference a Day Made”

  Jamie Cullum, Twentysomething

  Travel from Queens into Manhattan isn’t really all that bad, and I’m actually the first one in the building this morning. I unlock the door, let myself in and quickly lock it back behind me. I walk around, flick on all the lights, and turn up the ambient temperature. I hear Lottie calling out gaily at a few minutes before nine, as she drops a big pile of fabric samples onto her desk. “Sadie!”

  “Yes, Lottie?”

  Can you handle that late appointment we have with Violet Emery today? I know I said I’d fit her myself, but something came up with my mom and I’d like to scoot out early…if I could?” Lottie’s mom is ill, and has been going through cancer treatment for the past few months.

  “Of course I will Lottie. Happy to help” I say confidently. Who wouldn’t want to the experience of fitting the hottest model on the scene right now? I’ve always said; most of the models we work with are lovely, humble girls who work very hard to be noticed and get magazine covers or ad work. Violet’s appointment is a fitting for a Cosmopolitan Magazine cover shoot, and Anna told me privately she’s looking forward to her design being featured. I don’t blame her. The chosen dress is a humdinger.

  A lot of things have to be done before the four o’clock session, and the day gets off to a busy start. Anna arrives around ten thirty, and there are designs to discuss, a new line of fragrance to test (something I dread, frankly) and customers to assist. There isn’t time for lunch, so I grab an apple from the tiny kitchen and keep going. At three forty-five, Anna calls me from her office, upset over a fabric shipment that doesn’t look as if it will come through. Held up in customs, we’re missing bolts and bolts of a suiting fabric that we simply must have. We’ve already dropped pictorials in the major trade magazines, showcasing the pieces we’ll have for sale. Our line depends on the right fabric. I make a phone call to Salvatore Fekkai, one of my dearest friends from design school, and leave a message on his cell.

  “Sally, I need your help. I need a boatload of suiting material, and mine is in customs, sitting still. Anna is in a state. Can you please call me back before you leave the office today? I’m desperate.” I ring off and Lottie steps into my office, looking slightly queasy.

  “They’re here.” Something in her face says she wants to tell me something and can’t. Obviously, whatever needs to be said can’t be overheard. “Can you come to the reception area and pick them up?” she asks, meeting my eyes. “Of course, Lottie. You may leave as soon as you’re ready. I’ll take it from here.” Lottie clears her throat, her wide blue eyes swinging back out toward reception. She jerks her head toward the door and mouths OH MY GOD.

  When I enter reception, I see what’s gotten her in such a tizzy. It’s not Violet Emery that she’s having a fit over; it’s her companion. Don’t get me wrong; Violet is gorgeous. She has long, tawny blonde hair and she’s easily six feet tall. If you can get past her dusky skin, full lips and deep blue eyes, you’ll notice right away; she has a body that simply will not quit. Dressing her is going to be a treat. I guess most of us in New York have gotten used to seeing and dressing models, so feminine beauty is expected and a part of our daily lives. We’ve steeled ourselves, somehow, against the loveliness of our human clothes-hangers; so we can stay attentive to the fit and design of the clothes themselves. I can overlook Violet, but not him.

  Lottie is reacting to Violet’s…boyfriend? Lover? Husband? I have no idea. He’s taller than Violet and probably the best looking man either of us have ever seen. Geez. He ought to be on a coin. His face is perfect, his nose aquiline; his lips full and chiseled. He has copper-colored hair that’s a little long, and unsmiling brown eyes. Who am I kidding? A guy like this doesn’t have to smile. He can just stand there and wait for every woman in a fifty-mile radius to swoon; the net has already been cast. He’s looking around the space, his eyes checking out the lighting and walls, so I get to observe him for the span of about three seconds. His upper body is defined in muscle underneath a shirt that’s obviously expensive; the collar is open a few inches to show the hollow of his throat. His shoulders are wide; contrasted against a trim waist and hips. He has a leather coat slung over his arm, like he doesn’t intend to stay long. I scan his hands for a wedding ring, but don’t see one. Everything about him looks well controlled, well exercised and wealthy. He looks bored. And he’s sexy as homemade sin.

  Ugh! Sadie. Did you really think that? Get a grip on yourself. Focus!

  And so, I do. “Good afternoon. I’m Sadie Graves.” I acknowledge my colleague. “This is Lottie Perkins. We’re both Anna’s assistants, but I’ll be supporting you in your fitting today, Miss Emery. Ms. Rosenstein will be along in just a moment. Will you please follow me to the fitting area?”

  “Oh, hullo”, Violet says without emotion. “This is Lucas Sutton. He’ll be approving my outfit today.”

  “Okay, great”, I manage to get out. Since when does your boyfriend approve your outfits, I think uncharitably. Doesn’t your agent just tell you what to wear? Both of them begin to follow me to the back of the building, where most of the couture is created and fitted on live models.

  On the way back, I lead them past row after row of seductive lingerie in every color of the rainbow. Anna gave my designs their own area of the atelier, after the first order sold out completely in two weeks. Lucas says something low under his breath to Violet that I can’t hear. That’s too bad, because I’m listening for all I’m worth. We keep moving forward, though, intent on reaching Anna’s inner sanctum.

  Lottie fades back toward the staff offices, and I wave a hand at her, letting her know it’s okay – I’ve got this. I hear the couple behind me sniggering slightly. “Did you have a question?” I ask, turning around to look at Violet Emery. “No, I was just laughing because Lucas has a dog named Sadie”, she says with a saccharin smile. “I was thinking…how fitting…” she trails off, smirking at her own joke.

  I whip my head forward without responding, flushing bright red. Of course; of course. I would do anything to be able to control my body language right now, but turning crimso
n is one of my signature moves. I’m mortified. The most beautiful man and woman in America are comparing me to a dog. Ugh. I want to crawl under a piece of furniture. I know I’m no beauty queen, but it hurts to be made fun of by someone you were just thinking you’d like to impress. I immediately try to disconnect my feelings; hoping tears don’t spring to my eyes and embarrass me any more than I already am.

  I continue walking straight ahead and keep my head held high. Lucas Sutton clears his throat uncomfortably. Shit. I hope I don’t look too flustered when Anna sweeps in – which she does right when we enter the back of the house. She takes one look at my face, and hers becomes super-composed.

  She’s worked with me long enough, and we’re close enough; she knows I’m rattled, and she steps in, socially adept as ever, to pick up my slack. While she’s meeting Violet and her escort, I step over to the side to get a wrist pincushion and a tape measure, and drape it around my neck. I retrieve the dress to be used in the shoot, and look it over with an appraising eye. It’s going to be a slam-dunk, even if this girl is a complete bitch. And I get it now; sure I do. She’s out to make every other woman look like crap in front of her man, even a woman as inferior as me. Ha! Me; miss nobody fashion assistant. I feel a headache coming on, but I roll my shoulders in an attempt to move on, and take her the dress. I show her to the dressing room, and tell her where to stand when she’s changed. I approach the dais and mirror, drop to my knees, and prepare to adjust Violet’s hem when she comes out.

  “You must be Bain Sutton’s son; you look a lot like him” Anna says directly to Lucas, her eyes appraising. She is tempted to put on her cheaters, I know, which hang from a beaded chain around her neck. But she doesn’t.

  “Why yes, I am. Do you know my father well?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “No, but we’ve met socially several times. I’m impressed by the luxury brands your family purveys, and by the auction house. It’s nice to meet you. Do you work for Sutton Shield, as well?”

  “I do. I’m overseeing all the art auctions now, but we’ve gotten into luxury property these last few years and that’s certainly kept us busy in New York and Paris. Have you ever been repped by our company, Anna?”

  “No”, she says kindly, but I can tell there’s a bit of hope in her voice. “I haven’t. Maybe after this shoot is over, we could meet to discuss it.” “I’d like that” he replies. “I’m especially interested in your lingerie line. It’s magnificent.” Anna looks pleased, and I wonder idly what his company could do for her that she can’t do for herself. “If you think it’s good, I should tell you – the designs are all Sadie’s.” Anna’s gaze sweeps toward me, on my knees. “She’s spent an amazing amount of time on the fit, fabric and underpinnings.”

  “Do you always allow your staff to design for you?” Lucas asks, with something close to amusement on his face. “No”, Anna says honestly. “But if I don’t listen to my staff or my models, I lose whatever credibility I’ve earned. Sadie’s instincts about the lingerie line were spot-on. I’m learning as I evolve as an artist that the voices of my young contacts are the truest.”

  I wish I could hug her. Hard. But I look at the floor instead.

  Anna leaves the room to talk to Violet over the dressing-room curtain, and I’m left alone for a moment with Lucas. I keep my eyes on the floorboards, not wanting to make eye contact. He makes a sound in his throat, and says softly, “I apologize for Violet. She’s a complete pill sometimes.” I look up at him, coloring again, and wish the floor would swallow me up. He looks at me without any recognizable expression on his face. I reply, softly. “You would know Miss Emery’s shortcomings better than I. Hopefully, you’ll be able to remember my name when you need something fetched.”

  His eyes open wide. He looks amused, again.

  Oh great, Sadie. You couldn’t just accept the apology? I know Anna would be disappointed in my response, and I feel a little sheepish. I swallow and look down, and he says nothing else until Violet and Anna come back in. She’s wearing Anna’s sexiest gown – an amethyst halter with a plunging neckline that goes almost to her navel. The skirt is coated in feathers, and seems to float around her slim hips and long legs. She has on five-inch Christian Leboutins, and the hem is still a bit too long. She comes to stand by me on the raised platform, and I pin the hem all around to perfection. There’s a small gap at her waist that also needs to be tightened, and I mark that for alteration, as well. The shoulders and bust are perfect, and require no further adjustment.

  She steps back to admire herself in the mirror, and her eyes go to Lucas’ when she does. He says nothing, and she smiles a seductive little smile at him, batting her eyelashes. She pronounces Anna a genius; twirls around once and heads back to the dressing room to remove the dress. Anna follows her, preparing to bag the gown and seal it for transport. All this has taken no more than twelve minutes, but it feels like forever to me.

  I rise from my place on the floor and take the pincushion and tape measure back to their storage compartments. I feel a warm presence behind me, and turn around to be close enough to touch Lucas Sutton’s chest without reaching. He’s literally inches from me, crossing the room without making a sound.

  “What do you do when you’re not working, beautiful Sadie?” he whispers, his eyes searching mine. The track all over my face – eyes, nose, and finally my lips. They linger there.

  He reaches out to touch me, one long finger trailing down my cheek and over my lips. He actually pulls my lower lip down slightly, and leaves his finger there, the wet skin of my inner lip exposed. Everything south of my navel clenches, and I draw in a sharp breath. I almost trip over myself stepping backward. God. He’s beautiful. He’s also making fun of me; this will be a good story to tell Violet on the limo ride back to their place. I tense up immediately. I take one more step backward. I probably look like an idiot.

  “All I do is work here, Mr. Sutton. I’m sure you and Violet are busy and have lots of other things to take care of this afternoon. I’ll be certain her alterations are completed by Monday afternoon, well before the shoot. We’ll have the dress delivered to the photographer’s desired location, and pick it up afterward. I think that about covers everything for the House of Rosenstein. If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

  He doesn’t meet my eyes. His face registers nothing, not even the possibility of what a great joke this will be later. Odd. He nods his head, dismissing me.

  I can’t believe he just touched me. Dear Lord. Am I really that unattractive, that he would play a trick like that? He probably thought I would jump at the chance to kiss him, just to be able to say I had. What a prick!

  My face colors again. I’d pay good money to talk to my best friend Emma right now. She knows exactly what to say or do when someone is snide, so you come out on top. Somehow, I missed out on that ability, and I’m forever wishing I had it. This reminds me; I’m seeing Emma later this week, but I probably won’t get to tell her about this. We’ll be in mixed company.

  I march out of the couture salon and back to my office. As I approach, one of the sales clerks calls my name. “Sadie! Salvatore Fekkai is on line two. He says it’s important, and he wants to talk to you now, if possible!” I know her voice carries back to the deeper recesses of the space, and I’m glad to be seen as important in front of our two visitors. I step into my office and leave the door open, trying to seem more essential than I actually am. I’m ridiculous, right?

  “Salvatore. I am so glad to hear from you” I say with familiarity. He laughs on the other end of the line. “Sadie! What’s happening, baby?” he laughs, then quiets when I explain my concern. “This fabric issue is unexpected, and I need to figure out what to do next. Our line depends on the first two deliveries of ready-to-wear. I know you’ve seen the ads in Women’s Wear Daily. Do you think you have something similar, that we can use instead? I can’t miss the deadline on this shipment, not by even a day. My customers will kill me.”

  “Hmm; I think I do. It’s close in colorati
on and pattern to what you bought overseas. Sadie baby, you’re killing me. I sell fabric - that’s what I do. Why are you buying this Chinese shit? It’s not better than what I have, and every one of my clients has dealt with these customs problems. I want you to consider buying all of your fabric from me. You know I’ll give you the best price, and you can claim you’re keeping Americans at work. Hear me out? Come by in twenty minutes and look at what I have?”

  I agree. “Sal, you know I believe in what you’re selling. I think Anna thought she’d get a little margin on these pieces if she could save money on suiting. But, hey – you can’t save money on something you can’t get through customs. Right? Okay. Give me thirty minutes, not twenty, and I’ll be at your office. And hey…I owe you.”

  I grab my purse, throw my wrap over my arm, and head to tell Anna where I’m going. She’s just seeing Lucas and Violet to the front door of the atelier. He has a small package in his hand; he must have bought Violet a piece of lingerie on their way out. I wonder idly which piece caught his fancy. Trying to resurrect my professionalism, I nod to them; indicating as much respect for them as I can muster. In truth, I hope I never see either of them again. But, with Violet’s popularity, I doubt that. I whisper to Anna that I’m off to inspect some suiting fabric, and she lights up with satisfaction. “Good work, Sadie. Call me when you know more. I’ll have my cell with me.”