The Cherry Blossoms Read online

  “Thank you. Are you and Samanta enjoying yourselves?”

  “Daniella, when you did not come to sit with me, she asked me if she could sit with me until you arrived. How could I tell her ‘no’?”

  Daniella smiled as she told him, “Of course you couldn’t. It would be rude on your part.”

  “I knew that you would understand. I can ask her to leave if you want to sit with me.”

  “Michal, that would make me feel rude if you asked her to leave. I have a bird’s eye view standing with the photographers. Please go sit, I’m just fine.”

  Daniella watched him walk away. How had she’d been so stupid to think she could win his heart? The announcer was calling the audience to order.

  The House of Sophie was next. As Daniella watched the runway, she saw that the designs were common. Those designs were available in any upscale dress shop. With nothing unique to grab hold of your attention, the entire collection looked drab. It appeared that the audience felt the same. The applause was polite, as if they felt compelled to acknowledge the designer.

  Knots were forming in Daniella’s stomach.

  The House of Jocelyn went next. This was their second year to appear in the show. Daniella thought each outfit looked as though the designer had rushed through the sketching process leaving out the detail. Daniella saw two outfits where the shoe color conflicted with the outfit. In her mind, that totally ruined the look.

  Daniella felt a little better when she realized that the applause was so light that she could barely hear it.

  She sucked in her breath when she heard the announcer call for the House of Daniella. This was the first professional show for her team. When the first model started down the runway wearing the business suit, Daniella’s knees started to wobble. There wasn’t a sound in the room as her short sturdy model turned at the end of the runway to display the long jacket. Daniella could feel the sweat on her brow as her beach outfit walked onto the runway. She looked around the room watching the reaction to her tall heavy-set middle-aged model walk the runway. Her model made a perfect turn at the end of the runway, undoing the cover up showing off the one-piece bathing suit. Members of the audience were whispering to one another, which made Daniella more than nervous.

  The next design was the strapless cocktail dress. Her model was stout with a large bosom. The band of cloth around the waist accentuated the model’s cleavage. She walked the runway perfectly turning on her toes to return to the start of the runway.

  Her last design was the evening gown made of silk scarves sewn together. Her model was average height for a woman. When she started down the runway, the scarves flowed behind her. Daniella waited for something from the audience, anything that would indicate she’d done well in the evening gown category. She looked away for a split second to gauge the audience’s attention when her model tripped and fell to the floor. She made a great recovery; however, it was clear that the fall cost the House of Daniella dearly.

  There was no applause at the end of Daniella’s presentation. People were leaving the arena to go to the lobby where the reception was set up. Daniella was sick. Not one person, including Michal applauded her collection. She needed to thank her team no matter how poorly she’d done on the designs; they had worked hard and deserved applause. Applause that was loud enough to raise the roof off the arena.

  She waited outside the dressing room before going in. It didn’t matter how bad she felt, she needed her team to know how well they had done. When she entered the room, Daniella saw that her staff had waited for her. They were alone in the dressing area. Everyone else was at the reception in the arena’s lobby.

  She put a smile on her face to address them. With tears running down her cheeks, Daniella told them. “You are the best team that I’ve ever worked with. Not one person underperformed. This was our first show and together we undertook a very risky project. If we failed today, the failure lays with me. I want to invite each of you back for next year’s show. For this evening, please join everyone in the lobby. You can most certainly hold your heads high.”

  The model who fell on the runway stepped forward, “Mademoiselle McPherson, je suis désolé que je suis tombée sur la piste.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. We all did our best. Please remember that this is the first show the House of Daniella has participated in, professionally. We’re gonna knock them off their feet next year.”

  Grant had been translating what Daniella said. When she stopped, everyone gave her a hug and thanked her for her support as they left for the reception.

  Grant stayed behind. When the room was empty except for Daniella and him, he told her, “Daniella, may I escort you?”

  “Where do you wish to escort me to?”

  Grant held his elbow out for her to take. “Prendre mon bras. Je vous escortera à la réception.”

  “Grant, I appreciate your support, but I am not going to the reception. I want to leave this building as quickly as my legs will carry me.”

  “Pas mon ami vous laissera pas. Vous me permettra de vous escorter.”

  “Grant, not one person applauded my collection including Michal who was sitting with that damn woman. I am a complete failure as a designer. I want to just tuck my tail between my legs and go home where I can have a pity party.”

  “Daniella, you will not argue with me. You will take my arm and hold your head high. When the reception is over, I will take you out for a drink where none of those, how do you say it, where none of those assholes would ever go. It is there that you can have this pity party that you want.”

  Daniella took his arm as she laughed, “Grant, do you intend to take me to a gay bar?”

  “Oui Madame, vous avez raison. That is exactly where I intend to take you this evening.”

  “In that case, lead on.”

  When they entered the lobby, Grant told her to stand still for a moment. He went to the bar and brought her back a glass of wine. They stood together on one side of the lobby and watched the partiers mingle. Daniella saw Michal seated at a small table with Samanta. When he saw Daniella, he excused himself. Grant walked away leaving her alone to face Michal.

  “Daniella, this was your first show. You will do better next year.”

  Daniella thought about what she would say to this smug asshole. “Thank you for your kind words, they lifted my spirit.”

  “Will you join me for a drink after the reception?”

  Daniella giggled, “What a generous offer that I must decline. I have been invited for a drink by someone else.”

  Daniella walked away to join her team. She suddenly felt much better after she saw the dejected look on Michal’s face.

  Daniella watched as Michal and his new amour walked out the door. Grant came to stand beside her, “Daniella, ce qu’a fait il a à vous dire ?”

  She took Grant’s arm. “Michal asked if I’d like to join him for a drink.”

  “Did you tell him yes?”

  “I told him I had been asked to join someone else for a drink. If I’ve put in enough face time at this shindig, I’d like to go for that drink.”

  “Daniella, please tell me you told him that I was the person who offered that drink.”

  “I didn’t tell him who I was having a drink with or where. I do not believe my choices are his business.”

  Grant mumbled, “Cela peut aller mal.”

  “Grant, I assure you, it will not go bad. Do you mind driving since you know where we’re going?”

  “I would not mind at all.”

  “Well then let’s get out of here”

  During the drive to the pub, Daniella asked, “Will your new friend be there?”

  “Oui, il se joindra nous.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him. Just so that I don’t feel stupid, have you told me his name?”

  Grant looked at Daniella and giggled, “No, I have not told you his name. His name is Gaspard Chauffée.”

  Daniella said his name three times, letting the sound
roll off her tongue. She didn’t want to embarrass Grant by pronouncing his friend’s name incorrectly.

  To practice the pronunciation, she asked Grant, “Where does Gaspard work?”

  Grant giggled, “Promise you will not laugh.”

  “Why would I laugh?”

  “Tout d'abord vous devez promettre ne pas à rire. Then I shall tell you.”

  “Okay, then I’ll promise that I won’t laugh.”

  “Gaspard is a writer. He works from his home.”

  “Why would you think I’d laugh at that?”

  “Daniella, he writes those mushy romance novels women like.”

  She doubled over with laughter.

  “Tout d'abord vous devez promettre ne pas à rire.”

  “I’m so sorry I laughed when I actually think that’s wonderful. It just took me off guard.”

  “Gaspard tried to write gay romance novels, but the market was small, so he now writes for women.”

  Daniella laughed as she told him, “I love it.”

  “He loves it too. He told me he makes a lot of money.”

  Grant pulled to the curb, “We have arrived. I will take your leave while I park the car.”

  Daniella stood on the sidewalk in front of the Bigler Café. It was a beautiful April night where the air was fresh and clean. Many of the shops had flower pots full of fragrant flowers along the walkway. She watched as couples strolled along the sidewalk.

  When Grant found her, he told her, “Daniella, you already look happier to me. Come take my arm and let me escort you into the Café to meet Gaspard.”

  She took his arm as Daniella told him, “Grant, il serait Mon plaisir.”

  Grant chuckled, “Mademoiselle, I see you have been practicing your French.”

  “I’ve picked up a little here and there.”

  Grant held the café door open for Daniella. Once inside, he spotted Gaspard at a small table. “I see that Gaspard has secured a table, so we will not have to stand at the bar.”

  When they reached the table, Gaspard stood to pull a chair out for Daniella, as she took her seat, she thanked him, “Merci beaucoup.”

  Grant made the introductions, “Gaspard, c'est Mon ami, Daniella. Daniella, this is my friend, Gaspard.”

  Gaspard took her hand to raise it to his lips, “C'est un plaisir de rencontrer vous mademoiselle Daniella. Grant m'a dit beaucoup de choses merveilleuses à votre sujet.”

  Smiling, Daniella looked at Grant, “Help me, buddy.”

  “Gaspard just said that the pleasure is all his. He also said that I have said great things about you and he is glad to finally meet you.”

  “You told him nice things about me?”

  Grant chuckled, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  Daniella laughed, “You avoided my question. Yes, I would love a glass of wine.”

  When Grant went to the bar to order the wine, Daniella and Gaspard smiled at one another. Gaspard broke the silence and asked, “Mademoiselle, vous parlez français ?”

  Daniella giggled, “Assez pour commander un verre de vin et de se demander où est la salle de bain.” She took her glass of wine from Grant, “I think Gaspard just asked if I speak French. I told him I knew enough to ask for a glass of wine and where the restroom is. Please ask him if I got it right.”

  “Gaspard, Daniella dit qu'elle vous a dit qu'elle connaissait suffisamment français pour demander un verre de vin et où est la salle de bain. Elle veut savoir si elle il correctement.”

  Gaspard nodded that she had, and told Grant, “Dire que j'apprécie sa compagnie à Daniella.”

  Daniella asked Grant what Gaspard said. “He told me he is enjoying your company.”

  She giggled, “Tell him, I’m enjoying his as well.”

  “Gaspard, Daniella dit de vous dire qu'elle connaît votre entreprise ainsi.”

  Daniella was amazed that Grant knew so many of the patrons in the café, a number of whom stopped by their table to greet him. The horrible tragedy of her day drifted out the café door like the table candle’s smoke. She was having a wonderful time. Grant introduced her to everyone in the café as his friend, not his boss. There were a few in the café who spoke a bit of English, but for the most part, Grant looked as though he were watching a tennis match. He would turn his head toward her to translate what someone said, then back to the speaker to translate her answer.

  The time passed too quickly and she’d had too much wine. She told Grant, “I cannot drink another glass of wine. It’s time for me to go home. Can you drive me back to the arena where my car is parked?”

  “No Daniella, I cannot. Gaspard and I will drive you home.”

  She giggled, “That’s probably a wise decision.”

  Grant told Gaspard, “Daniella a eu trop de vin. Je lui ai dit que nous conduirait à son domicile.”

  Gaspard responded, “Je suis prêt à quitter ainsi.”

  “J'obtenir la voiture et mettre à la porte. Pouvez-vous escorter Daniella à la voiture ? Je crois qu'elle pourrait utiliser un peu d'aide.”

  “Il serait mon plaisir Grant.”

  “Daniella, I am going to get the car. Gaspard will bring you out to the car. I will only be a minute.”

  She nodded at Grant, “Merci beaucoup.”

  Grant escorted Daniella up the three flights to her apartment while Gaspard waited in the car.

  “Grant, I had the most wonderful time this evening. Thank you and please thank Gaspard for me. I don’t plan to come to work in the morning, so please let everyone know they may take the day off with pay.”

  “Daniella, I don’t understand. Why would you not come to work?”

  “I’m going to take the day to tend to my hangover and rethink what we did wrong.”

  “Daniella, you did nothing wrong, but I will tell the staff to take the day off to rest after working so hard.” Grant kissed her on her forehead and told her before he left, “Sleep well.”

  The answering machine indicated there were four messages waiting for her. She stood looking at the red flashing 4, trying to decide whether to play them now or wait until morning. She hit the play button; waiting until morning wouldn’t change what those messages said. All four messages were from Michal, asking her to call him. Daniella deleted them and went to bed.

  Chapter Three

  Paris, France

  Daniella woke the next morning to a throbbing pain in her head. When she grabbed her head with both hands, her head felt as though her brain had undergone a brain quake. She felt her gray matter fall into the crevice the quake had created. The ensuing dust collected in her throat, so she tried to cough to release it from its captivity.

  Without sitting up, she grabbed the nightstand clock. Through her blurred vision, she saw it was telling her that it was just noon. If she didn’t force herself to get out of bed, she would miss the morning papers. Daniella stumbled into the bathroom. When she looked in the mirror, the reflection showed a woman with makeup smeared across her face. Her red curly hair was a chaos of tangles. It was likely that the morning editions were sold out, but if there was even one left, she wanted to see it.

  After a shower, Daniella pulled on her jeans, a cotton blouse, and a pair of sneakers. She grabbed a hat from the closet to cover her hair and face. She rushed down the three flights of stairs and out the apartment house door. There was a newsstand at the end of the block. She grabbed the last morning edition written in English, and then dashed back to her apartment clinging to the folded paper.

  She laid the paper on the kitchen table while she perked a strong pot of coffee. When it was ready, Daniella sat at her table to read the reviews of the Spring Fashion Show. Her hands shook at she turned the pages, but she had to know what the reviewers had written.

  The House of Margueite achieved the highest award of first place. The House of Geneviève took second, and the House of Jocelyn took third. The writer had verbiage on each House. She ran her finger through the other houses. When she found the commentary on the House of Danie
lla, she wept openly, as if she were crying out in pain.

  “It is hard for this reviewer to believe that the House of Daniella earned the opportunity to participate in the Spring Fashion Show.”

  She wadded the paper into a ball, tossed it into the sink and burned it. After throwing her coffee cup at the wall, she went back to bed. She pulled the covers over her head as if she could ward off the Fashion Show Monsters. Daniella heard the phone ring several times and someone knocked on her door twice. She remained in bed wrapped in her cocoon. In her comatose state she still heard the reviewers chanting at her, “Fat Fanny Danny”.

  The room was dark and gloomy when she pushed herself out of bed. Trudging into the kitchen, she stepped over the broken coffee cup to pour a glass of wine. Daniella turned the television on. She sat on the small sofa and watched some late night talk show. She stared at the screen as if she understood what they were talking about. When she heard one of the commentators say something about the House of Daniella, she leaned forward, and tried to pick up what they were saying.

  “Quel dommage est que la maison de Daniella effectuée, si mal.”

  “Je suis d'accord avec vous. Il s'agissait de son premier spectacle, elle peut revenir l'année prochaine et faire mieux.”

  “J'ai lu dans l'édition du matin que l'examinateur trouvé difficile de croire qu'elle s'était qualifié de montrer ses créations.”

  What little Daniella gleaned from that televised conversation, the announcers said it was a sinful shame that she even qualified for the biggest show in Paris. She’d told her staff to hold their heads high last night, while she ran off to hold a pity party. Hiding in her bed with the covers over her head contradicted what she’d told them. She turned the television off, cleaned the shattered coffee cup on the kitchen floor, and then she poured another glass of wine.

  Daniella took her seat on the sofa where she held her own commentary, “What the fuck do I care what they said. We did our best. I am blessed with a wonderful staff. Our models performed well. The truth of the matter is that I’m not French, and that’s the bottom line. They can all screw themselves.”