Chapter 249

Chapter 249

He left his seat before the show ended. As he walked out through the side aisle, the wind hit him head-on, carrying that particular coolness that only comes at night. He walked a short distance, then stopped under a streetlight and looked back at the converted old factory building. Light bled through the steel framework, tracing the structure into an irregular silhouette against the dark.

He didn't notice how long he'd been standing there.

Vivian stood at the turn of the backstage corridor and didn't come any further. She had on a dark, lightweight jacket and stood there without drawing any attention.

She watched Rachel move along a rack of clothes backstage, straightening the neckline on a spare gown, then crouching down to pick up a loose thread from the floor and toss it in the trash.

Riley came out of the dressing room in street clothes and walked over to Rachel. The two of them stood talking in a dimly lit corner for a bit, and Vivian saw Rachel look down and smile — a smile unlike anything she'd seen from her at Kilburn Villa.

Vivian stood there watching for about two minutes, then turned and walked back down the corridor.

When she stepped outside, the wind rushed in. She pulled her jacket tighter and walked along the curb toward where she'd parked.

She saw Arthur standing under a streetlight not far away.

He had on a dark gray coat and wasn't standing in the brightest part of the light — he was at the edge of the shadow near the exit. When he saw Vivian come out, he took a step toward her, then stopped, his eyes moving briefly across her face as if confirming which direction she'd come from.

"Feeling better now that you've seen Rachel?" Arthur asked.

"Better than I expected. She didn't notice me." Vivian said. "The clothes came out more fitted than I thought they would. A few of them, when I first saw them, I figured she'd be doing well just to finish them at all — but she added details I never even put in the design sketches."

Arthur pulled his hand out of his pocket. Vivian noticed a narrow silver-gray ring on his ring finger — a thin band she hadn't seen on him before. She glanced at it but didn't ask, just walked alongside him toward the parking area.

"What about Raymond?" Vivian asked.

"After his artifacts were intercepted, he replaced his entire crew. The contacts on the port side stopped showing up too. Right now he's trying to figure out who took the shipment. He hasn't traced it back to me yet." Arthur slowed his pace. "But he won't let it go. The plagiarism report targeting this show was just him trying a different angle to test me."

Vivian thought of that prehistoric European jade axe wrapped in three layers and packed at the bottom of the crate — the way its two curved edges looked under the desk lamp. She asked: "Will he make another move?"

"He will. He'll keep pushing until I find a clean way out. The methods might change, but not the direction. He needs me to back down."

"You don't plan to back down."

Arthur didn't answer. They reached the car. As he pulled open the door he said: "Until I find my way out, he does what he does and I do what I do."

Arthur started the car. The dashboard lit up for a moment, briefly brightening the driver's side, then dimmed again.

The car pulled out of the lot and merged onto the main road. Streetlight after streetlight swept across the windshield.

Vivian leaned back in her seat. The wind came in through the half-open window and brushed the side of her face — not cold, just that soft coolness the night carries. She sat quietly and closed her eyes for a while.

A couple of intersections later, she heard a short intake of breath from the driver's side, like he'd started to say something and swallowed it back. She didn't open her eyes, but the corner of her mouth shifted slightly, then settled again.

Rachel finished the job and flew home. By the time she got back to Kilburn Villa, it was late at night.

The entryway light was on, its warm yellow glow spread across the floor. She changed her shoes, hung up her coat, and stepped inside — then saw Edmund sitting at the dining table.

There was an open bottle of red wine on the table and two glasses, one half full and the other empty. When Edmund heard her footsteps he didn't look up, just picked up the empty glass and set it on her side of the table.

"You're back."

Rachel stood at the table with one hand resting on the back of a chair. After days of sewing and a whole evening sorting through the spare garments, her fingers ached a little.

She looked at the glass of wine on the table. In the lamplight the red wine gave off a deep, dark glow.

"The show went well today," Edmund said.

Rachel sat down, turned the wine glass slowly in her hand, and didn't drink right away. She hadn't expected him to bring up the show — he'd never asked about her work before, let alone waited up for her in the middle of the night.

"You watched it?" she asked.

"All of it."

She picked up the glass and took a sip. The wine slid down her throat and slowly spread through her stomach. She set the glass down with a faint clink.

Edmund took a sip from his own glass, then put it down.

He kept his hand on it, his fingertips tracing slowly around the rim. "I said a lot of things to you that I shouldn't have," he said. "That gown you made for Riley was actually beautiful. When I said it had no character, it was because..." He paused.

"Because what?" Rachel's voice came out softer than she expected.

"Because I was afraid that if you left, you wouldn't come back." Edmund said.

Rachel's fingers tightened slightly around her glass.

"Back then you left Harborvale so cleanly — changed your number, changed your address, cut off every way to reach you. I looked for you for a long time. After I brought you back, I kept thinking — if you could do everything you wanted to do, would you still stay." He wasn't looking at her as he spoke. His eyes stayed on the deep red liquid in his glass.

"I was afraid too. Afraid that if I gave in, you'd think you had me figured out. Someone like me got played by you once — I was afraid it could happen again."

Rachel sat there looking down at the rim of her glass. The lamplight caught the curved glass and drew a thin, bright line along it.

"When I left Harborvale back then..." she started, her voice clear and steady in the quiet room, every word distinct. "It wasn't because I didn't care about you. Something happened with my family and I didn't know how to tell you — or how you'd see me after. I just felt like if I stayed, those things would drag me under, and drag you down with me."