Chapter Three: The Man Who Took Her Seriously

Three days later, Natalie dropped a stack of papers on my kitchen table.

"Homework," she announced.

I counted twenty-two pages of market reports, price lists, and fabric suppliers, all covered in her red-ink notes.

"You expect me to read all this?"

"I expect you to answer three questions. Who will buy your clothes? How much will they pay? And why should they buy from you instead of a brand that's been around for twenty years?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

Natalie raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. That's why we're not ordering fabric yet."

I stayed up until two in the morning reading every page. I got highlighter on my fingers and spilled tea on page nine, I wrote my answers on a notepad, crossed them out, and started again. My first answer to the third question had been because I have good taste.

I stared at it for a long time before tearing off the page.

The next day, I handed Natalie a single sheet of paper, she read it standing up, then went through it again before finally sitting down.

"Okay," she said. "This is a start."

I tried to hide my smile.

*****

The luxury industry event was held in a hotel ballroom that Thursday. Designers stood beside clothing racks while buyers moved between them, drinks in hand. Natalie had secured two invitations, and she seemed to know half the people in the room.

"There's someone I want you to meet," she said, steering me toward a man standing near the windows.

He was tall, with light brown hair and a well-fitted dark suit. He was speaking to two women when Natalie approached, but he turned to us with a warm smile.

"Adrian Cole," she introduced him. "This is Vivian, the woman I told you about."

He shook my hand. "Natalie says you're planning to start a fashion brand."

"I am."

"Tell me about it."

I'd practiced my pitch in front of the mirror, so I began by describing my target customers. I explained their lifestyles, what they wore to dinner, and what frustrated them about the clothes already available.

Adrian listened without checking his phone or glancing around the room. "What would you charge for a coat?" he asked.

"Between eight hundred and twelve hundred dollars. Less than the major luxury houses, but more than department-store brands."

"Why would someone pay that much for a coat from a brand they've never heard of?"

"Because it'll fit better than most of the alternatives, and it won't look like everything else on the market."

He nodded. "And how much will it cost you to make one?"

That was the question I'd hoped to avoid.

"I don't know yet. I'm still waiting for the suppliers' figures."

Natalie shifted beside me, but I held Adrian's gaze.

"Good," he said.

I frowned. "Good?"

"Most people would have invented a number to sound prepared. You admitted what you don't know." He smiled slightly. "That's a better starting point” then his expression changed.

"You're Alexander Blackwood's wife, aren't you?"

"I'm Vivian."

He paused. "Vivian. Of course. I'm sorry."

He sounded sincere. I couldn't remember the last time anyone had apologized to me for seeing me as someone's wife before seeing me as a person, Adrian pulled a business card from his pocket.

"Finish your figures and send me the plan. Better yet, have dinner with me next Thursday. We can go through it together."

I glanced at Natalie. She gave me an encouraging nod.

"Dinner sounds fine," I said.

Adrian made a joke about a designer across the room whose jacket fit so poorly that it looked borrowed. I laughed before I could stop myself.

It was a small moment, but it felt surprisingly good.

"Vivian."

I recognized the voice before turning around.

Alexander stood a few steps away, holding a glass of water he hadn't touched. His black suit was immaculate, his tie perfectly straight. I'd forgotten that Blackwood Global was sponsoring the event. His name was displayed on a banner near the entrance.

"Alexander," I said.

He barely acknowledged me. His attention was fixed on Adrian.

"Cole."

"Alexander." Adrian shook his hand. The exchange was polite, though neither man seemed particularly pleased to see the other.

"I didn't know you were interested in fashion," Alexander remarked.

"I'm interested in people who understand their market."

"Is that what my wife does?"

"She's more knowledgeable than she gives herself credit for," Adrian replied.

He then turned to me. "I'll leave you two to talk. Thursday, Vivian. I'll send you the address." He nodded to Natalie and Alexander before walking away without looking back.

Alexander followed him with his eyes, his jaw tightening, he placed his glass on a passing tray. "Thursday?" he asked.

I didn't apologize or offer an explanation.

"Hello to you, too, Alexander."

He looked at me in silence.

Only then did I realize that he'd just witnessed something I'd never shown him during our two years of marriage. I'd laughed freely, without worrying about whether he was watching or whether he approved. He'd never seen me like that before.

Natalie cleared her throat. "I'll go find the coffee." She slipped away, leaving us alone.

"What were you discussing with him?" Alexander asked.

"Business."

"He's known for more than business."

"I've known him for fifteen minutes."

"He invited you to dinner."

"To discuss my business plan. Over dinner."

"Vivian."

"Do you have a reason to stop me?"

He opened his mouth but said nothing.

I watched him struggle to find an answer. He'd asked for a divorce, so what right did he have to question my plans? "Be careful," he said finally.

"Of what?" He didn't answer. Instead, he turned and walked away.

*****

It was past eleven when someone knocked on my bedroom door. I'd just finished brushing my hair, and I hadn't heard Alexander come home. I opened the door to find him standing in the hallway, his tie gone and his collar undone. He was still wearing his shoes.

"Cancel your dinner with Adrian," he said.

I stared at him, wondering if I'd heard correctly.

"You asked me for a divorce," I reminded him. "Why do you care who I have dinner with?”