Closing herself in and restarting the ignition, Piper flipped on the AC and quickly tore open the envelope.
She scanned the letter first; then, as disbelief set in and her heart began racing furiously, she read it more slowly.
Her hand began to tremble. Excitement began to build.
She’d been making her own clothing designs since she was a child, and for nearly as long she had been sewing those designs together. She’d learned early how to use a needle and thread, and she’d torn her fingertips to ribbons as a child to perfect each and every stitch.
Now . . . now someone had noticed them. Someone of such renown in the fashion world that she had never imagined he would show an interest in her work.
Eldon Vessante, one of the biggest names in the New York fashion scene, had, for several years, been bringing in hot new designers, up to three a year, and staging exclusive runway shows for them.
By mentoring new talent he’d made an even bigger name for himself, and each designer he’d mentored was still a hot topic among the fashion world. And their designs were still being worn by models, movie stars, and the rich and famous.
Piper had sent several of her designs to the Vessante panel more than a year ago.
No one knew she had submitted the required six designs to the Vessante team. She hadn’t even told her mother. Hell, she’d forgotten about it months ago when no response had been forthcoming.
His assistant had sent the letter—she quickly checked the date—two days ago?
Oh, my God—they had chosen her designs!
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to jump out of the Jeep and announce it to everyone on the street as they made their way into the post office and various businesses that lined the sidewalk.
She wanted to call her mother and Dawg. . . .
Whoa.
Bad idea.
Very, very bad idea.
She really wanted to call Jed, and that was an even worse idea, because there was no way, despite his promise, that he wouldn’t let Dawg in on where she was going and what she was doing.
She read the letter again.
The excitement was about to get the best of her.
This was her dream. It was that one-in-a-million shot to realize every dream she’d ever had of what she could accomplish with the talent she had.
And she couldn’t tell anyone.
She lifted her head, moving her gaze from the letter to stare through the Jeep windshield, her excitement suddenly overshadowed by a heavy sadness. If she dared to say anything to anyone, then she would end up with more bodyguards on that trip than the queen of England. And wouldn’t that make a hell of an impression?
If she thought for a moment that Dawg, Rowdy, or Natches would consider just one of them accompanying her, then it might have swayed her. She knew better, though. For the past summer, they seemed to be everywhere together. Piper had even gone so far as to ask them whether they were married to their wives or to one another.
She’d even questioned why. Why had her s
ister been kidnapped the summer before? Who had done it? Why had they done it? All she’d received in answer was a closed expression and change of topic. And the certainty that her brother and cousins, along with Timothy Cranston, were involved in something far more dangerous than they wanted their sisters to be aware of.
Carefully pushing the letter back into the large envelope it had arrived in, she turned it over and stared at the address once again.
S. Chaniss, the address read. New York City.
There was no way anyone at the post office could really place exactly whom the letter was from or what it contained. Hiding it and the contents from curious eyes wouldn’t be too hard.
Putting the Jeep in gear and pulling from the post office parking lot, she turned the vehicle toward home.