‘Sizes?’ asked Birdie professionally. ‘Not everyone is a size six, you know.’
‘I know, I have put in an extra size now. So we go up to a size sixteen.’
‘Good for you, just because you are big boned doesn’t mean you don’t want to look fabulous,’ said Birdie imperiously.
‘I agree, Mom,’ Violetta said, trying to hide her smile.
When Birdie had started Pajaro she had included larger sizes but Leon had thrown them out later, claiming they used up too much fabric, and Pajaro had lost a large portion of its customer base.
Birdie leaned her head back on the chair and Violetta realised her mother was tired after their conversation. ‘Come on, Mom, come and lie down,’ she said.
She led Birdie to the bed and covered her with the cashmere throw that Spencer had brought in. As Birdie started to drift into sleep, she looked up at her middle daughter.
‘Your father and I are very proud of you, darling,’ she said.
Violetta felt a stinging behind her eyes. She had waited a long time to hear those words and they meant more to her than she realised.
‘Thanks, Mom, I love you and Dad so much.’
And she kissed her mother on the cheek. As she left Birdie’s room, she thought about what she had said. It was true, and even if Spencer wasn’t proven to be her father, he was more of a dad to her than Leon had ever been and that was enough to heal the past.
Back in the city, Violetta dragged the TV crew to the loud and extraordinary jazz session, which Lesley had enjoyed and Violetta had suffered through. Jazz wasn’t her thing even at the best of times, but it was a night out and she had sat in the corner, pretending to listen intently. While they filmed her she planned the fundraiser for the hospital in her mind. When the crew left, Violetta slipped out the side door and rang Jeff who didn’t answer.
She texted him.
Free now. Where are you?
A message came back.
Still at dinner, about to leave. Meet me at my apt?
Look forward to it. Address?
She still hadn’t been to his place. He was very secretive about it. Maybe he was ashamed, she had thought. So she was surprised when the address was texted to her.
Violetta hailed a cab. She was looking forward to seeing Jeff again.
As the cab pulled up at an elegant building on the Upper West Side, Violetta paid and walked towards the doorman who opened the door.
‘Dr Carson said to come up. Apartment 32 on the eighth floor,’ he said.
Violetta got into the elevator and started to laugh. She was still laughing when the doors opened and Jeff was standing waiting for her in the foyer in a black tux. He looked so handsome that Violetta’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Wow,’ she said, circling him. ‘That is a fine looking dinner suit, doctor,’ she flirted.
Jeff blushed. ‘I bought a new one.’
‘From where? And without my help? I am shattered,’ she said, putting her hands on her slim hips.
‘Tom Ford? Is that any good?’ he asked, worried.
‘The best.’ She shrugged. ‘You look divine,’ she said, and went onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.
‘Thank you. You look lovely also.’
Violetta looked down at her outfit. Black tight pants, flatboats, a Proenza Schouler red and blue cardigan, and a large Marni coat to protect herself from the December winds.
‘I look boring.’
