Chapter 6 - The Woman in Champagne Silk
The café Celeste chose was narrow and loud, with a kitchen door that banged whenever a server passed through it. Maya and I arrived first. I had been watching the entrance for ten minutes when Celeste came in wearing black trousers and a gray sweater. Without the champagne silk, she looked younger and tired. She also looked directly at the bruise on my cheek.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
“About what?” I asked.
She glanced at Maya. “About what happened in the store.”
“You smiled.”
“I know.”
We sat with that. Celeste wrapped both hands around a glass of water and didn't drink. Maya introduced herself, explained that she represented me and that Celeste wasn't obliged to speak with us. She suggested Celeste consult an attorney before making admissions about any document.
“I'm aware,” Celeste said. “Nathan made sure I knew what kind of lawyers he could afford.”
Maya didn't respond to the bait. “What did you want Emma to know?”
“Larkspur isn't keeping the workroom in Manhattan. Their operating plan closes it after a transition. Nathan told the staff they might have jobs in New Jersey, but the buyer expects to outsource most production by spring. He's known that since he began talking to them.”
“We need evidence for that,” Maya said.
“There's a presentation. I received a copy because Nathan asked me to prepare product photographs.”
“Don't send anything you don't have a right to disclose,” Maya said. “Your own lawyer can help you understand what you may properly share.”
Celeste's jaw tightened. “I came because Emma should know before the vote.”
“Then say what you know firsthand,” I said.
She stared at the table. “I heard Nathan tell a buyer representative the craft team was 'a temporary cost.' He said getting control of your votes would make the human side easy.”
I pressed the heel of my hand against my thigh. “And you stayed with him.”
Celeste lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he said I could run design after the acquisition. He told me Larkspur wanted the original Night Orchard artist involved.”
“Original artist?”
“Your mother knew I helped create that collection. I drew the branch pattern. She promised my name would go on the next catalog.” Her voice thinned. “Then the next catalog came. And the one after that. It was her face on the page.”
I pulled the photograph from Louise's kitchen out of my bag and laid it between us. Celeste stared at the back, where my mother's handwriting remained clear.
“She wrote that?”
“Yes.”
Celeste touched the edge with one finger. “I kept a copy of the first drawing. I thought if I waited long enough she'd correct it. She used to say, 'Don't rush a piece, Celeste. It tells you when it's ready.' I believed her about everything.”
I didn't want sympathy to make me forget what had happened. “You also stood there smiling when Nathan hit me.”
“I was angry at you. He told me you were preventing the sale just to punish him, that you didn't care whether people lost work. I wanted you embarrassed. I didn't want him to hit you.”
Celeste pulled a paper napkin apart without noticing. “He told me if I left before the Larkspur sale, I would lose the only chance to put my work under a real label. I knew that was manipulation. I knew it even while I chose to believe him.”
“Did he threaten to fire you?” I asked.
“He didn't need to. He'd spent months reminding me how many people would take my job.”
I thought of Alice straightening the empty ring stand. Fear hadn't made Alice lie, but it had made her hesitate. Fear had made Celeste do much worse. I wasn't ready to flatten either decision into a slogan. I was only beginning to understand how a place Nathan called his empire could make everyone inside feel replaceable.
“Those aren't the same thing,” I said, “but neither is harmless.”
“No. It isn't.”
Maya placed a notepad on the table. “Did you ever handle the disputed voting proxy?”
Celeste's eyes moved toward the kitchen. For a moment I thought she'd stand and leave.
“I formatted a packet for Nathan last summer,” she said. “Agreements, artist consents, shipping authorizations. He sent me scans. One document had a place for Emma's signature.”
“Did he ask you to attach an existing signature?” Maya asked.
Celeste looked at her for a long time. “I did it. I took a signature from an older licensing agreement and placed it on the draft. Nathan said it was only a mockup for counsel, that you had already approved the terms and would sign the final version later.”
My chair felt unstable under me.
“And the notary stamp?”
“I didn't put that on. When I saw the finished proxy a few weeks ago, I asked him why it looked executed. He told me to mind my job.”
“You never asked me?” I said.
“I wasn't speaking to you. And I wanted the promotion.”
Maya spoke gently but firmly. “You should get independent legal advice before discussing more. If you have records you lawfully possess that support what you said, preserve them. Don't delete or alter anything.”
Celeste pushed back her chair. “I'm not asking you to forgive me, Emma.”
“Good.”
She stopped beside the table. “He promised me credit for the collection. Then yesterday he said the buyer might not use my name after all. He told me I should be grateful to be invited to the negotiations.”
I looked at the woman who had smiled at my fall. She had wanted an empire to choose her. Nathan had let her believe it would.
“Go talk to a lawyer,” I said. “And don't sign anything Nathan puts in front of you.”
Celeste nodded and left without finishing her water.
Maya waited until she was gone. “We have a witness to the construction of a document,” she said. “That's meaningful. It doesn't prove every step, and she's exposed herself to risk by speaking. We'll verify carefully.”
I rubbed my thumb against the photograph's edge. My mother's mistake had traveled through years and people, gathering new damage. I had wanted to hate Celeste without complication. The complication didn't excuse her. It merely meant I'd have to decide what justice looked like without making everyone into a single kind of person.
May you like
My phone buzzed. Ben had sent a photograph from the workshop. On the doors to the design room, new paper signs read INVENTORY REVIEW — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Below the photo he wrote: Nathan changed the locks while we were at lunch.
