Brooke would blame it on hormones, if Amandine told her. Which she wasn’t going to do.
After the hearty breakfast, Amandine was feeling more optimistic than she had in weeks and ready to face the world. The past two years had seen her and Gavin growing slowly apart as she’d taken on the bulk of his philanthropy projects and he’d spent more time in the office. But now she was pregnant with his baby, a symbol of their love, and her husband was going to take more than half the day off just to be with her. This had to be a sign that things were looking up.
Brooke arrived half an hour later, her
clothes as bright as the ones from the day before: a teal one-piece dress with a white leather belt as wide as a man’s hand. A bronze headband with a giant red ribbon sat in her hair, doing nothing to keep the bangs out of her smoky eyes. “You need to get dressed,” she said. “I’m supposed to take you to Gavin’s hangar by eleven.”
“I don’t remember having anything scheduled there.”
Brooke flashed her phone. “Got a text from Gavin. He wants you there.”
“Did he say why?”
“Something about lunch.”
Amandine wrinkled her nose. “At the hangar?”
“Sorry, no idea. I didn’t plan it,” Brooke said, heading for Amandine’s closet. “Let’s pick out a few options for the day.”
Amandine nodded, deferring to her best friend. Brooke always had a great sense of style, while Amandine preferred clothes that were cheap, functional and long-lasting. Her old wardrobe reflected her preference except for a couple of dressy outfits from the Neiman Marcus clearance racks. She’d bought them in case she ever had her own showing, which in retrospect had been silly since she hadn’t shown her works to any art gallery and probably never would.
The walk-in closet was bigger than the master bedroom in Amandine’s old apartment and had another door that opened onto a service hallway, so that staff could drop off dry-cleaning and laundry without invading the privacy of the bedroom. The lights came on automatically, controlled by a sensor at waist level. Hundreds of pairs of fine leather shoes occupied endless shelves built into the walls.
Brooke flipped a switch on her left and the entire hangar section moved, like a conveyor belt in a dry cleaner’s, except the one in the closet was nicer and prettier with a shiny chrome finish. A Ferrari-red Chanel with spaghetti straps swayed by. It still had the tag from a fancy boutique store. Amandine had no idea why Josephine had bought it when she had at least twenty other dresses she hadn’t worn. Brooke flipped the switch again, and the belt paused, showing Amandine a row of pre-marriage clothes she’d hung there three years ago. All of them combined cost less than the Chanel.
“Still got all this stuff?” Brooke said, her lips pursing. “Let me get rid of it. You’re going to need more space at the rate Josephine keeps buying.”
“But they’re still in good shape. I like to keep them for my studio time.” Amandine used to take pride in being one of the best bargain shoppers in the state of California. “Can you imagine me wearing a four thousand-dollar Dior to paint?”
Brooke crossed her arms. “Good point. Okay, let’s sort them. You don’t need this many.”
Amandine sighed. “All right.”
“Besides” —Brooke started the conveyor belt again— “you should think about getting some paint on that Dior. When you’re a famous artist, the dress’ll go for at least a million precisely because of the paint splatter.”
“Ha, I doubt it. I’m not that talented.” It was Amandine’s default response to anybody who commented on her artistic endeavors. The people in Gavin’s circle tended to be discriminating, and she didn’t want to appear arrogant. Besides, she doubted she’d ever create anything people would pay a million bucks for. Painting was something she did to express her emotions and for her own enjoyment. She’d never shown them to anyone except Brooke. They weren’t for strangers to take apart and comment on.
“Girl, you totally are. You could be the next Renoir.”
The belt stopped again. Brooke pulled out a royal blue linen sheath dress and a coral pink raw silk one that had a loose skirt.
“Blue,” Amandine said.
“Really?” Brooke cocked an eyebrow. “You never pick an outfit this fast.”
“I know, but I want the blue.” That particular shade popped, and Amandine wanted to be noticed.
“Okay.” She looked at the tag. “Wow, you haven’t even worn this thing once, and Josephine paid two grand. The woman’s crazy. Does she have any idea how much she’s spending on all this when you haven’t worn half of it?”
Amandine nodded. “She believes in spending every penny of the budget Gavin’s set.”
“She’s like a government agency. Must spend every penny lest your budget shrink!”
“Sort of like that.”
“Now for the shoes…”
Amandine moved to the shelves. The selection was overwhelming. How many high heels did a woman need? “I’ll take these.”