Lauren's Designs by Elizabeth Chater Page A

worry about gossip, Lauren thought. But she did not escape completely. A sullen Herbert waited for her outside the restaurant as she emerged after breakfast. He took her arm roughly.
    “We’re going to talk. In your sitting room.”
    “I’m busy this morning with the presentation for September Song.”
    “About time,” Herbert sneered. “Your show is tomorrow afternoon and you haven’t even rehearsed yet.”
    “How do you know I haven’t rehearsed? Snooping?”
    “Until and unless you buy my shares, I’ve got a legitimate right to know what’s going on. When do you rehearse?’
    “You aren’t going to watch us,” Lauren said grimly. “You’ve put Nella out of action—”
    “She never was in it,” he taunted. “What a crummy pair of old bats you chose for your models.” He jerked at her arm. “Let’s go down to your suite.”
    To avoid a scene, Lauren led the way. Her own bedroom door was locked, as she had left it after her swim, and the models’ door was closed. Lauren indicated a chair. Herbert flounced into it.
    “Well?” Lauren asked coolly.
    “What’s going on?” Herbert growled.
    “I’m putting on a show tomorrow afternoon. I’m rehearsing for it today, in secret. Dani and Nella are going to be there, as of course am I. That’s all you need to know.”
    “I’m going to see that rehearsal.”
    “Why?” Lauren’s voice was cold. “You know nothing about staging a fashion show. You know nothing about fashions. You have never, even when Al was managing the boutique, had anything to do with the presentations. And I don’t like the sabotaging you’ve been doing on this trip, or your lies. You’ve never been my lover and you never will be. Now leave me alone and leave the models alone, or I’ll complain to the judges about your harassment.”
    Glaring at her, Herbert could see that she meant every word. He struggled to think of a reply, but clearly could not in the face of Lauren’s open hostility. He got up from the chair and strode over the door. Flinging it open, he said pompously, “You’ll regret your highhanded behavior, Lauren. I tried to save your bacon, but you don’t want any help. Al wouldn’t be very proud of the kind of woman you’ve turned into.” He stalked out, slamming the door after him.
    Dani poked her head out of her bedroom. “Geez, he’s awfully noisy for this early in the morning. What brought that on?”
    “Get ready for the rehearsal,” Lauren said harshly. “And if you breathe one word to that creep about the show. I’ll push you overboard.”
    Dani grinned. “Attagirl, Ms. Rose! Give ’im hell.”
    The two women smiled at one another.
    *****
     
    The ten-o’clock rehearsal went very well. The orchestra had taken time to familiarize themselves with Tony’s score, and after a few rough spots were ironed out, the presentation sparkled. An extra bonus was the presence of Nella, who, urged by obscure guilt feelings even more than by her fear of losing her salary, insisted upon going with Lauren and Dani to the rehearsal. Lauren told her that if she ever breathed one word about the revamped show to any living being, she, Lauren, would personally make sure that Nella never modeled again in the United States. Nella believed her.
    She was enchanted with the dance and mime as Dani had been, and announced herself perfectly willing to model the suits and accessories, the sportswear and anything else that had been made for her. She agreed very happily to do her usual job in all the sections but the dance-mime, and to stay backstage to help the troupe with costume changes for that.
    Lauren couldn’t believe her ears. Nella restored to health was one thing; Nella willing to help backstage and to model her own costumes without fussing was even better. Lauren looked at her with a suspicious eye. “What’s made the change?” she queried.
    “Michael came by while you were at breakfast. He was returning the dress you’d sent to the cleaner-valet service.