4. Conrad

CHAPTER 4

CONRAD

T he view was so gorgeous it was stealing the show, miles of white beach, gentle surf, waving palms. The sun hung low over the ocean, the sky stained all shades of orange and pink. Like the inside of an enormous conch shell, white trails of clouds forming its rim. Most of the guests had come out for a look, spilling over the terrace and onto the beach. Inside sat bid sheets for the silent auction, temptations eclipsed by nature's display.

"It's the same sun in LA," came a high, nasal voice. "But I never saw any sunset looking like this."

"Because the air's cleaner here," said someone else. "LA's full of smog, so it's like a dirt filter. Like an old photo, but without the charm."

"LA's not that dirty. Smog was more from the eighties."

I moved off down the beach, away from the smog talk. Claire hadn't shown yet, but I wasn't worried. The night was still young. She'd be down soon.

"Conrad Farley!" A tall woman strode over, her husband in tow. I placed her quickly — Helen Wright, a photographer. She'd photographed pretty much everyone worth knowing. She'd taken Claire's portrait for the cover of Forbes . Now, she was smiling. "Where's your other half?"

"She'll be down any minute, but?—"

"Oh, good. She's so lively. She's sort of my safety hatch for these types of events: I get stuck with someone boring, I whistle her over."

I gave a wry chuckle. "You saying I'm boring?"

"Actually, no. I was hoping you'd be here. You haven't sat for me yet, and that's — oh, hold on. Sorry."

Her husband was beckoning from down the beach, along with a stout man in a Savile Row suit.

"We know him," she sighed. "We all go back years. If I don't say hello, I'll be in the doghouse."

I smiled politely and waved her on. Immediately, I found myself pulled away in turn, drawn into a huddle of half-soused VCs. Later, I'd have to help Claire avoid them. They stood for everything she couldn't stand — unsustainable growth, shareholders as kings — and still they pursued her, gunning for Timeless.

"You here with Claire Colt?" one of them asked me.

"When are you going to get a saddle on that filly?"

One of them whinnied, and I grimaced, disgusted. "Bit of advice," I told him, "you'll want to chill with the horse jokes. That nonsense gets back to Claire, she'll have you for breakfast."

"But she listens to you. You'll talk us up, right?"

I flashed them a thin smile. "I'll make her aware of your presence." Then I turned my back on them and headed off to find Helen. They wouldn't get anywhere near Claire as long as I had a say.

By the time I found Helen, she'd joined another couple, a ruddy, red-cheeked man and his willowy wife. The wife looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place her. She looked about forty, but her husband was older, a silvery fifty, but still in good shape.

"This is him now," said Helen. "Conrad, meet Verity, and her husband Kenneth."

"Ken." He shook my hand. "So, you're Claire's other half? We were hoping to meet her here, but I haven't seen her."

I opened my mouth to correct the "other half" rumor, but Verity got going before I could start.

"You two, I've got to say, you're such a gorgeous couple. And you met in college? That's just…" She made a hand-flutter gesture over her heart. "I admire loyalty," she said. "Knowing a good thing and grabbing on with both hands. Ken was my first love, since our ninth-grade spring fling. He was the first boy I ever danced with."

I coughed. "Oh, uh?—"

"I've been hearing about this Timeless app for such a long time, but I said to Ken — she can talk the talk, but what's she like as a person? Can she walk the walk? Can she stick with something and see it through all the way? I don't partner with anyone who can't stick it out. Who we are in life is who we are in business, so, yeah, where is Claire? I can't wait to meet her."

I cast about, trying to come up with a response. How could I tell Verity that Claire and I were just friends without undermining Claire's chance at a deal? A solid twelve-year friendship should still count for something, but what if it didn't? What if I blew her shot?

"There she is," cried Helen, and gestured up the beach.

I turned, arms open. "The love of my life!"

The lie came bursting out before I could stop it. Verity cooed. Claire's eyes went round. She glanced at me, then at Verity, then she pulled me into a hug. She hissed low in my ear.

"What are you doing?"

"Trust me," I whispered. "Follow my lead."

Claire kicked me hard, but she pulled back smiling.

"Helen," she said. "And Verity Halford. This must be your husband. A pleasure, ah, Ken?"

"That's right." They shook hands, and Claire and Verity hugged. Claire wasn't the hugging type, but she pulled it off well. When she stepped back, her cheeks were glowing with color.

"You've been an inspiration to me, Verity. My first and my fiercest designer obsession. I saved three months in high school to get one of your scarves. The idea you were my age when you got started, barely sixteen with your first fashion show…"

Verity waved off her praise. "Lots of kids have talent. I got lucky, was all."

"Maybe that first show, but you kept it going. You're still going strong all these years later."

"All what years, now? I'm not that old!" Verity laughed and Claire's cheeks went pinker. "I was just telling your, ah… Partner? Fiancé?"

Claire took my arm. "My rock," she said. Not quite a lie, but not a denial.

"I was just telling your rock — ooh, I like that. I was just telling him I've had my eye on you too. What you're doing with Timeless, stunning styles that last, that's what we need in this world of fast fashion. The idea of garments as pieces to be treasured. Heirlooms, even, in some cases. Did you know I got married in my mom's wedding dress?" Her eyes went all dreamy and she pressed her hand to her chest. "Oh, I had it let out and I dropped that high collar, but the shape, that lush fabric, that stayed the same. And it was so worth it for the look on her face. We were both crying, such a beautiful day…"

"That's amazing," said Claire. "What a lovely idea. Could that be what inspired your new line, the new and reclaimed fabrics all layered together?"

Verity grabbed Ken's arm. "Oh, did you hear that? Didn't I say she's a smart one? It wasn't that exactly , but the same idea: mothers and daughters, family. Generations. Preserving the old while embracing the new." She tipped Claire a wink. "Holding onto your gorgeous college sweetheart while you're out here taking the fashion world by storm. You need the old for your anchor while you grab for the new. Otherwise, how are you going to stay grounded? You need to stay grounded, or you'll float away."

I felt Claire's grip tighten, crushing my wrist, but her smile didn't waver. Her voice didn't crack.

"I couldn't agree more," she said. "People are so eager to toss out the old, but when we forget where we came from, we forget who we are."

"So true, so true ." Verity grabbed Claire's free hand, then she grabbed mine. She pumped them both up and down with vigorous gusto. "I've got some bids to put in on that silent auction. But why don't the four of us grab dinner once this schmoozefest winds down? I'd love to hear more about what you're doing with Timeless."

"We'd love to," said Claire, a little too loud. Her smile was too bright, frozen and strained. Verity didn't seem to notice, and hugged her again.

"It's been so great meeting you, and I'll see you for dinner." She drew away, waved, and flitted into the crowd. Her husband trailed after her, carrying her jacket.

"She's sure got him trained," I said.

Claire seized hold of my arm and marched back up the beach, wobbling as her heels sank into the sand. I kept pace with her easily, holding her when she stumbled, letting her drag me past the auction tables. She hustled us out through a side exit, into the hall.

"What the hell happened? What did you do? "

I held up my hands. "Hold on, just listen. I think it was Helen."

"Helen introduced me as the love of her life?"

"No, but she?—"

" No! Do you have any idea what you just did?" Claire dropped my arm and paced back and forth. "This deal could take months to close. She thinks we're together. What are we supposed to do now? I can't just go out there and?—"

"Hey. It's all right." I took hold of her shoulders and held her in place. She shrugged my hands away, but I stroked her tense arms. "It's not as bad as you think. Can you just hear me out?"

Claire's fists bunched up, and I thought she might hit me. Then they went loose, and her shoulders sagged.

"Fine," she said. "Let's hear you explain this."

"Helen thought we were a couple. She must've told Verity. And Verity… well, you heard her. She's sentimental. She's big on old-fashioned values, family, loyalty. She married her high school sweetheart, and she thinks we're the same. I made a choice on the spot not to correct her. Not to risk embarrassing her or making her look stupid. I thought I might blow your shot, so I played along."

"And what about the next few months, while I'm sealing her deal?" Claire made a huffing sound, a harsh gust of breath. "We're not together. She's going to find out. I'll look like a liar. You'll look insane."

"We won't," I said, and drew her away from the doors. I found a plush couch and sat us both down. "Listen, I promise, it'll all be okay."

"Easy for you to say! How do you figure?"

"How do you not? " I let a slow smile steal over my face. "Everyone always thinks we're together. Every party we go to, every event. When I do go alone, I get ‘tell Claire we missed her.' No one's going to tell her we're not an item. All we need to do is get through tonight."

Claire bit her lip, thinking that over. "What if there's more events once we get home? Lunches and dinners to talk through our deal? She might expect you."

"So I'll be there."

"No! No, you can't. I'll make some excuse for you, say you're sick. Say you're busy."

I could see Claire was panicking, her mental gears spinning. Her eyes had a wild look and her lips had gone tight. She ran her hands through her hair, leaving it tousled.

"Whatever you need." I kept my voice low and calming. "I got you into this, so whatever you need. I'll be there, I won't be there. Just say the word."

"I don't know," said Claire. "So much could go wrong. And what about after, once the deal's done? A couple of months is one thing, but I can't fool her forever." She pressed her palms to her cheeks. "My stomach's in knots. This is why I don't lie."

I took her hands and lowered them down from her face. She'd smeared her eyeliner, and I fixed it with my thumb. "It'll be okay. Really. People break up. You'll do your deal, keep going as normal, and one day Verity'll ask you, ‘hey, how's your man?' And you'll give her this sad look and tell her we're over. You can even blame me, say I got too busy. You know she'd believe that, the hours I keep."

Claire breathed in deep, and then she breathed out. Her shoulders rose, fell. A shiver ran through her.

"All right," she said. "But we fly out first thing tomorrow. I can keep this up through dinner, but after that, I don't know. The more time we spend here, the more chance we slip up."

I exhaled sharply, myself. "I'm with you on that. It'll just be tonight. Standard plus-one stuff. We can do that."

Claire stood up, shaky. "I'll go change for dinner. You just, you just… Go change as well. Don't talk to anyone. Don't dig us in deeper." She turned and swept off, her skirts fluttering about her. I stood and smiled after her, watching her go. I'd stuck my foot in it big-time, but we'd be fine. We could do this.

One day, we'd look back on this whole thing and laugh.