Family Ties

Chapter 11

Liz was one of those meticulous editors who tried to anticipate every possible problem in advance. She hated surprises, particularly bad ones, and did everything to avoid them. But in spite of all her careful preparation, she had a dozen knotty problems to deal with on the set the next day. They were shooting outdoors on the Place Vendôme, and the first thing that went wrong was that it started to rain. They placed a huge tent over the models and filtered in artificial sunlight. It took them longer to set up, but it was manageable. They had set up heaters against the freezing cold. But one of the models said she was getting sick anyway and didn’t want to work.

The clothes in the shoot were secondary, and she and the stylist had chosen several simple black and white dresses by an American designer, two of which had gotten stuck in French customs and couldn’t be released, so they had to make do with what they had. And the stylist substituted a great-looking white shirt for one of the dresses, which worked. The whole focus of the shoot was the jewelry Lizzie was featuring, and that was their worst problem. All of the jewelers she had worked with to pull pieces had sent what she had chosen, but one of the more important jewelers had substituted several pieces she didn’t like. She called him immediately, and he apologized, but he had sold the pieces she had picked, and never told her. Worse yet, he was a designer in Rome so she couldn’t go back and find something else. She raced to two of the jewelers she was working with in Paris, during a break in the shoot, but she didn’t find anything there she liked, and she was short three or four pieces for the shoot. It was the kind of stress and aggravation she hated but that just couldn’t be avoided sometimes.

“Jesus, I should have read my horoscope for today,” Lizzie complained to the head stylist. She had no idea what to do. She reorganized the jewelry for several of the shots, but no matter how she rearranged it, she came up short, and this was a major story. The editor in chief in New York was not going to care that a model had been sick, two dresses were stuck in customs, and four major pieces of jewelry that they had planned to feature had been sold. Lizzie sat quietly in a chair at the edge of the set with her eyes closed, trying to figure it out. She was good at pulling rabbits out of hats, but this time she was coming up dry. One of the assistant stylists approached her after a few minutes, and Lizzie waved her away. She didn’t want to be bothered right now. Jean-Louis called her too during his own lunch break, and she told him she was up to her ass in alligators and she’d call him back. He said his shoot was going great, which only irritated her more. She had her own problems right now. As she turned off her cell phone, the young assistant approached her again.

“I’m sorry, Liz. I know you’re busy, but Alessandro di Giorgio is here.”

“Shit,” Lizzie said through clenched teeth. He was one of the important jewelers whose pieces they were using, and the last thing she needed now was a nosy jeweler who wanted to be sure that his work was the most important in the shoot. Some jewelers were like stage mothers, and she didn’t need one of them telling her what to do, or trying to sweet-talk her into giving him a better spot. “Can you tell him I’m off the set?” She had never met him personally and had dealt with him by e-mail, and all of his big pieces had been sent with armed guards from Rome.

“I think he knows you’re here,” the young stylist said apologetically. She was terrified and fresh out of school. This was her first big job. She knew Liz’s reputation as a perfectionist, and given everything that had gone wrong that morning, she was scared to death someone would take it out on her. Fashion was a high-tension business, and when things went wrong at a shoot, invariably shit rolled downhill. She was at the bottom of the hill. Liz looked at her in annoyance but was polite.

“I don’t have time to talk to him right now. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck to do about the three pieces I don’t have. Four, to be exact.”

“That’s what he wants to talk to you about. He said he had to come to Paris anyway, to see an important client, and he has several other pieces with him you haven’t seen. He stopped by the set, and I told him what happened, and he was wondering if you’d like to see what he’s got.” Lizzie stared at her in amazement and broke into a smile.

“There is a God. Where is he?” The young girl pointed to a tall blond man wearing a tie and a dark blue suit, carrying a large briefcase, and flanked by armed guards. He was looking straight at her with a cautious smile. As he approached her, he looked just like the photographs she had seen of him, and he was impeccably dressed.

“Miss Marshall?” he asked her quietly, as both guards stood slightly back but close enough to take action if he were attacked. “I understand you have a problem. I will be meeting with a client this afternoon, and I saw the shoot happening here. I thought I’d walk by. My client will be upset if I bring her fewer pieces, but she’ll never know what she never saw. And you can send them back to me later. I’ll tell her there was a delay in my atelier, if you select some of the pieces she was interested in.”

“There must be a patron saint for jewelry editors who are in a jam,” Liz said gratefully. She was a great admirer of his designs.

“I’d rather not show you the pieces here,” he explained. “I’m sure you understand. If you have a few minutes, I have a suite at the Ritz. We could go there.” The hotel was literally twenty yards away, as she looked at him with wide eyes. He spoke perfect English, with a slight Italian accent.

She felt like a bum walking into the Ritz next to him, in his perfectly cut suit. She was wearing leggings, running shoes, a sweatshirt, and a raincoat, and for once she didn’t even have high heels in her bag. And she hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair at five A.M. She’d just jammed it into a clip, drunk a cup of Jean-Louis’s coffee, and run out the door. And now she looked a total mess.

She was impressed to see that Alessandro di Giorgio had an enormous suite on the Vendôme side of the Hotel Ritz. He was using it to see private clients, and without hesitating, he opened the lock on the briefcase and took out a dozen pieces of breathtaking jewelry in diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. The pieces were even bigger and more impressive than what she had planned to use from the other jeweler, and it meant that there would be more di Giorgio pieces in the spread, but at this point she had no choice, and it was the most beautiful work she had ever seen.

“Do I dare ask who your client is for pieces like this?” She was fascinated. They were huge.

“The wife of an emir,” he said discreetly, but didn’t say which one. “Will this help you out?”

“Oh my God, this is a miracle,” she said, looking at him with amazement.

“Take whatever you like, whatever you need. I’ll make my excuses to the emir’s wife.” And this was good publicity for him too. He was well known in the States but much more so in Europe. He was the third generation of jewelers under his name. His grandfather had started the business, and his father was still alive and involved. Alessandro was thirty-eight and had been designing for his father for fifteen years. Liz had researched them carefully for the story and liked the fact that many of their pieces were unique and one of a kind, and that their work was so respected in Europe. They had stores in Rome, London, and Milan but none in Paris. He saw clients there himself, and it was just sheer luck that he was there today.

Liz picked four of the biggest pieces, and Alessandro nodded as she chose. He could see the direction she was going, and the look she wanted, and he suggested a fifth piece that he thought could work too. She agreed with him and added it to the others. He packed her choices in boxes and assigned one of his guards to go back to the set with her, and ten minutes after they had walked into the hotel, they walked out again, with Liz carrying an innocuous Ritz shopping bag with everything she needed in it and even an extra piece. She stood looking up at him when they got back to the set and didn’t know what to say. He had saved her ass, but saying that to a man as well-bred and polished as he was would have been rude. He was extremely polite.

“You really saved my life.” She almost cried as she said it, and he smiled. “I’ll get everything back to you tonight, or tomorrow at the latest.”

“Take your time,” he said calmly. “I’m here for three days. We have a number of clients to see in Paris.”

“Do you ever come to New York?” she asked him. She really felt she owed him something for his generous help.

“Not very often. We do most of our business in Europe. But I come once in a while. I like New York very much.” He looked younger when he talked to her. He was so serious and well dressed that at first she had thought he was much older. But she remembered now that he was only ten years older than she was.

“Well, the next time you come to New York, I owe you lunch, or dinner, my first born, something.”

“I was happy to help you. I hope your shoot goes well, Miss Marshall,” he said formally.

“It will now, thanks to you.” She beamed at him, and he had no problem looking past the unbrushed hair and the work clothes to see that she was a beautiful girl.

“Arrivederci,” he said, and then walked away and got into a chauffeur-driven Mercedes with the single armed guard, leaving the other guard with her since she had some of his most important pieces now.

And half an hour later they got back to work. Her spirits were buoyed, knowing she had what she needed, and the photographer was excited when he saw the pieces. They were much more beautiful than the ones they had been promised by the other jeweler.

At six o’clock they were still working when Jean-Louis dropped by. Liz was looking tense, still shaken by the calamities of the morning, but it was going well.

“Almost done?” he whispered as he came up behind her, and she turned with a start and then smiled.

“About another hour.” She was frozen to the bone but didn’t care. The weather had been awful, but the shoot had been great.

“What did you do about the jewelry you didn’t get?”

“An angel fell out of the sky, carrying a briefcase, and gave me even better stuff.” She grinned at him, still in awe of her good luck.

“What does that mean?” Jean-Louis looked baffled, and he knew what a genius Liz was at problem solving, but that was too much for even her to pull off.

“Just what I said. One of the jewelers we used happened to be in Paris, and walked by. He was taking a briefcase full of incredible pieces to a big Arab client and gave me five of them for the shoot. It’s the best jewelry I’ve ever seen, better than what we had. And bigger.”

“You’re a magician,” he said, giving her a hug, “and you lead a charmed life.” She definitely felt blessed that day. “I’m meeting a friend at the Ritz for a drink,” he told her. “Come in when you’re finished, and we’ll go home.” He disappeared then into the Ritz, and Lizzie went back to work.

As it turned out, it was another two hours before she was finished, and they had shot all the di Giorgio pieces. She returned them to the armed guard who’d been with her all afternoon and wrote a hasty note to Alessandro di Giorgio, thanking him again. She promised to send him tear sheets of the shoot. And then she met Jean-Louis in the bar. He was happily drinking Kir Royale with an old friend. They had gone to school together, and he looked as disreputable and unkempt as Jean-Louis. They almost looked like twins. Jean-Louis explained that he was an artist and had a studio in Montmartre that once belonged to Toulouse-Lautrec. And she had to admit to herself that for once she looked as disheveled as they did. She couldn’t wait to go home, get warm, and take a long hot bath.

They got back to his place at ten o’clock, and Lizzie had to be up at five again for the second day of the shoot. They were using the Place de la Concorde as their location this time, and the Arc de Triomphe the following day. She had a heavy week. Jean-Louis had the following day off and was planning to spend it with friends.

As Liz sank into the tub and closed her eyes, she thought back over the shots they had done, the jewelry they’d used, the models and their clothes. As she ran the film of the day through her head, she was satisfied with the work. And she was still thinking about it, and already worrying about the next day, as she fell asleep in Jean-Louis’s bed. He glanced over at her and smiled as he turned off the light. He had never known anyone who worked as hard as Liz, and he certainly didn’t want that for himself. Few people did.

Annie’s first days back to work after the holidays weren’t much smoother than Liz’s. It seemed like there was chaos at all her construction sites, her most important contractor had quit, and there were delays on all her projects. After the first of the year, all hell had broken loose. She was so stressed that she didn’t have time to stop for lunch all week. It was Thursday afternoon when she got back to her office at a decent hour. She had some plans she needed to change, and she wanted to get her files in order. And she had dozens of calls to return and e-mails to answer. She asked her assistant for a cup of black coffee and got to work. She decided to open the mail on her desk first. The second letter she opened was from Kate’s school, and she suddenly panicked, thinking she had forgotten to pay her tuition. Her accountant usually handled it, but the check could have gotten lost in the mail. Instead, her heart stopped when she saw what the letter said. It confirmed the fact that Kate had dropped out of school for a semester. And Annie’s week had been so stressful so far that she was furious the minute she read it. What the hell was Kate doing? Annie forgot everything else she had to do as she dialed Katie’s cell phone in a fury.

“I want to see you at the apartment tonight,” she barked into the phone, which was unlike her. She rarely lost her temper with her nieces and nephew. She preferred to explain things and be reasonable. But what Kate had done was not reasonable. Annie was not willing to let her drop out of school, and she hadn’t asked Annie’s permission. But at twenty-one, she didn’t have to.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asked, sounding stunned.

“I’ll discuss it with you when I see you,” Annie said tersely. “Not over the phone. I’ll be home by eight o’clock. Be there.” And with that she hung up, without waiting for Katie to answer. Annie was so mad, she was shaking. She hadn’t raised them for sixteen years, and taught them everything she could, and given them all the opportunities their parents would have wanted, in order for them to become dropouts. Katie was a talented artist, and Annie wanted her to go to school and get the degree she’d started.

Annie finished everything on her desk in record time and took the plans she had to change with her when she went home. She’d been so distracted for the rest of the afternoon that she couldn’t think straight. The lights were on when she got home, and Katie was in her room listening to music. She walked out the minute she heard the front door close and stood looking at her aunt. Annie was obviously livid. She took her coat off, hung it up, and walked into the living room, and Katie followed. Annie sat down and looked at her, with a mixture of disappointment and anger. It was the disappointment that shook Katie, more than the anger.

“What the hell are you thinking?” were Annie’s opening words to her. “I got the notice from your school. You didn’t even ask me. How disrespectful is that? And what are you planning to do now, without a degree? Work at McDonald’s?”

Katie fought to keep her voice calm. She wanted to prove to Annie that she was an adult, not a child. She had a right to make her own decisions. “I got offered a job that I want to do for one semester. I thought maybe I could do it as an art project or an internship, but they wouldn’t let me. So I took a semester off to do it. It’s not such a big deal. I’ll go back to school next term.”

“What kind of job is it?” Annie said, still upset by the way Katie had done it. She had said nothing to her aunt over the holidays about wanting to drop out of school, or do an internship. She could at least have discussed it with her.

“It’s a good job,” Katie said, balking at the question. “I want to do it.”

“What is it?” Annie was fierce as she asked her, as only Annie could be when she was angry, which was infinitely rare. And all she wanted was what was best for Katie.

“I’m going to be doing designs at a tattoo parlor,” Katie said quietly, and Annie stared at her in horror.

“Are you crazy? You’re giving up a term at Pratt, one of the best design schools in the country, to work in a tattoo parlor? Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding. They do some great art. I know I can do some really creative things there. There are some major emerging artists who have gotten their start in tattoo parlors.”

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d kill you. Katie, you can’t do this. Is it too late to sign up at school for this term?”

“I don’t know. I won’t do it. I’m going to work at the tattoo parlor. I started on Tuesday, and I love it. I’ve already given up my room at the dorm, as of this weekend.”

“Then I expect you to live at home.” Annie’s tone was icy. She was so angry and upset, she could hardly speak.

“I was planning to do that anyway,” Katie said politely. “I told you, I’ll go back to school next semester. I want to do this for a while. It’s very creative.”

“Will you please tell me what you think is creative about tattooing anchors and eagles on people’s asses? This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” Katie had always been different from the others. She was more independent, more artistic, more of an individual, braver, and was never afraid to try out new ideas. But this one was one of the worst she’d ever had, in Annie’s opinion. She had always been supportive of her niece’s creativity, but this time she had gone too far.

“Did Paul have anything to do with this?” Annie asked suspiciously, and Katie shook her head with tears in her eyes.

“No. He’s mad at me too. He thinks it’s stupid, and undignified, and not right for a woman.”

“He got that right.” Annie couldn’t even imagine saying that her niece was a tattoo artist, or what her parents would have thought of it. It didn’t bear thinking. “I’m very disappointed in you, Katie,” Annie said, calming down a little. “I expect you to finish school. Not for me, but for you. You need the degree to do something important with your art, or even to get a good job.”

“I know I do,” she said reasonably, as tears slid down her cheeks. She hated to disappoint the aunt she loved so much and whose respect was so important to her. “I just wanted to do something different and more creative, and I’ve always loved tattoos.”

“I know,” Annie said, as she leaned over and put an arm around her. “But I just want you to finish school, and a tattoo parlor is such an unsavory place to be. The people are awful.”

“You don’t know that, and I don’t care anyway. I just want to do the art. Someone else can do the tattoos.” She didn’t tell her aunt that they were teaching her to do that too.

“Do Ted and Lizzie know about this?” Annie asked, wondering if it was a conspiracy or just one of Kate’s crazy ideas. But Katie shook her head. “They’re not going to be happy either.” And as Annie said it, Katie stuck out her chin in defiance, just as she had when she was five years old. She had always been the toughest of the kids to manage, never afraid to back up her own ideas or take the consequences for it when she did.

“I have to do what makes me happy, and what’s right for me, not just what works for all of you. I want to learn how to do beautiful tattoos. It’s a form of graphic art, even if you don’t like it. And after that, I’ll go back to school.” She sounded stubborn and defiant as she said it.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Annie said sternly, and then wiped the tears from Katie’s cheeks, and spoke more softly. “I wish you weren’t so damn independent and listened to me once in a while.”

“I do. But I have to do what I think is right too. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m not a baby.”

“You’ll always be a baby to me,” Annie said honestly. It was the conversation she’d had with Whitney a month before, about letting them go, make their own mistakes, and have their own lives. She couldn’t protect them forever.

“Where is this place?” Annie asked, and Katie told her. It was in a horrible neighborhood, and just the idea of her being there filled Annie with terror. What if something happened to her? Or she got AIDS from one of the needles? “I wish you’d give up this idea,” Annie pleaded with her. “It really is one of your worst.”

“I’m not going to,” Katie said fiercely. “I’m an adult, and I have a right to make this decision.”

“I guess you do,” Annie said sadly. “But not all the decisions we make are good.”

“We’ll see,” Katie said quietly, prepared to defend her independence with whatever it took. She didn’t share with her aunt then that she also wanted to do some traveling, and she wanted to go to Tehran with Paul for a visit to his family in the spring. She figured that right now that news could wait. And after they talked quietly for a few more minutes, Kate went back to her room. She was planning to bring home all her things from the dorm that weekend.

In her own room, Annie took two aspirins for the headache she’d had since that afternoon and lay down on her bed. She would have called Lizzie, but she didn’t want to bother her in Paris. And it was three in the morning for her by then. Instead she called Ted. He didn’t answer, and it went straight to voice mail. Annie left him a message to call her as soon as he could. She couldn’t believe that Katie was going to be working in a tattoo parlor. The idea of it made her sick. And all she could hope now was that Katie would come to her senses and do what she had promised and go back to school. And the worst of it was knowing that no matter how much she loved her, there was nothing Annie could do. Overnight she had become obsolete.