Lauren's Designs Read Free

some scenery if we wish it, also props.”
    Dani sighed. “Wouldn’t it be super if that gorgeous officer we met on deck was the cruise director? I know he fell for me.”
    In spite of Lauren’s fears, Nella and Dani behaved with perfect propriety during the cocktail hour, both nursing a Perrier as they had been instructed. The cruise director turned out to be a woman, to Dani’s disappointment. She seemed competent and friendly, and made clear and careful explanations. It was not too surprising to discover that the other six designers had assistants to deal with their models and with the mechanics of the presentations. One or two of them spoke to Lauren, but the rest either ignored her completely or accepted their introduction to her with a patronizing air.
    “Who’s she ?” she heard someone ask Carlos de Sevile, the dark, insolent Spaniard who was chief designer for the expensive, exclusive C. M. Landrill chain of department stores based in Los Angeles. Lauren had been introduced to Carlos on several occasions. She lingered behind the two, waiting to hear what de Sevile would say about her.
    “Some cheap little dressmaker,” Carlos drawled with a heavy accent, which made Lauren smile because she knew he had been born and educated in Los Angeles. “No competition to us, I assure you.” The two men laughed as they accepted a drink from a passing steward.
    Lauren walked away without anger. She knew that Landrill’s had tried twice to secure her own designing skill, to put September Song garments and accessories under contract exclusively for their chain of stores. Al had always refused, ranting about conglomerates and big business destroying the small, quality boutiques. Lauren had often wondered what his real reasons were.
    She had never really understood Al. Her marriage had been a mistake, although she had tried very hard to make it work. Al had always preferred his nights out with the boys, his trips to Vegas or Mexico or Canada with his special male friends. He seemed to have some deep grudge against the world, and in the last few years his anger and resentment had turned against her also. But she must not waste time thinking of that now, she told herself. She collected Nella and Dani to take them to dinner.
    They were seated in a spacious, elegant dining room by attentive, smiling stewards, and the models were well pleased. Lauren, who had done her homework, realized that this was not the most posh of the four restaurants, but it suited her very well to keep a low profile at the moment. The table, centered with fresh roses, seated eight. Lauren found their five table companions delightful. When the dining steward had noted everyone’s choices from the impressive menu, she introduced herself and her models.
    The older of the two men, Derek Strange, presented his party. They were an English dance troupe, returning home after a five-week tour in the United States. Derek Strange and his wife, Violet, were obviously older than Lauren; Tony Carr, lean and handsome, was about her age; Polly and Dolly Darby, twins, were in their early twenties, Lauren judged. Their manners were charming, but Lauren sensed an underlying depression that even their determined, chins-up cheerfulness could not hide. Halfway through the meal, interrupting a debate on the differences between English and American humor, Nella clutched at Lauren’s arm.
    “The ship is rolling. I can feel it.”
    Everyone at the table stared at the statuesque redhead, who was very pale. The men glanced at each other, frowned, then shrugged.
    “I don’t feel any motion,” Dani argued. “You’re imagining it.”
    Lauren got up. “Let me see you to the cabin, Nella,” she said gently. “You’ve had no sleep for nearly thirty-six hours. I’m sure when you’re rested you’ll feel better.”
    “I’ll stay with these people,” said Dani. “I’m not tired.”
    Lauren glanced at Violet Strange. “Where will you be, later, Mrs. Strange?” she asked