Chapter 10

On Christmas Day, the morning after her dinner party, Sydney got up early to do the dishes and clean up, and thought again about how warm and congenial it had been the night before. And as she scrubbed the pan the turkey had roasted in, she realized that she hadn’t heard from Veronica or any of her old friends over the holidays, but she didn’t miss them. She was totally absorbed in her new life. Sydney hadn’t heard from Veronica after their last conversation. She had only been interested in delivering bad news, and Sydney was no longer willing to hear it, which spoiled it for Veronica.

None of her other friends had called her to see how she was, or invite her to their holiday parties. It was as though they felt it was too awkward now to acknowledge her, particularly since the news had spread like wildfire that she had no money left, and her arrest had been in the papers. It was disappointing to observe how important Andrew’s money had been to them. In the past six months, she felt like the forgotten woman. She hadn’t called them either and felt strange doing so, and now that her arrest had hit the fashion press, she was afraid to talk to anyone, and didn’t want to discuss it with them. But her friends from their married days certainly hadn’t been loyal or attentive. They had valued the lifestyle she’d shared with Andrew, but apparently not her friendship.

Steve called her as she was putting the last rinsed dish in the dishwasher, and thanked her profusely for dinner.

“Thank you for the delicious wine and that gorgeous yule log,” she said warmly.

“You made the evening lovely for all of us,” he said kindly. “I wanted to ask you something, it’s a little awkward. I don’t normally do this with clients.” She wondered what was coming, and hoped her matchmaking had worked. It sounded like it, and had looked that way the night before. “Would you mind if I call Sabrina? She’s a fantastic woman, and she looks just like you except for the dark hair. I don’t normally date my clients’ daughters, but in this case, I’d like to make an exception, if you agree.” He was obviously nervous as he put the question to her, and Sydney forced herself to seem casual when she answered, but at her end she was beaming from ear to ear. She had thought he was perfect for her daughter, and she hoped that Sabrina liked him too.

“I have no problem with it whatsoever,” she assured him. “I thought you’d get along. She’s awfully busy, though, and when Fashion Week happens twice a year, she disappears.”

“I think I can manage. I have a few things to do too.” He was planning to suggest lunch to her, and go easy with it. “Is she involved with anyone? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Yes, her work. 24/7,” Sydney said, and he laughed.

“I like a woman who works hard. It makes me feel less guilty when I have to.”

Sydney gave him Sabrina’s number, and then he said they should get together in the coming weeks to talk about the detective he wanted to hire to do some snooping around on Paul Zeller. There had been no word about the grand jury hearing yet.

“Will a detective be hideously expensive?” Sydney asked, sounding worried. She was afraid to run up a lot of bills she couldn’t afford, and Sabrina had paid enough for bail and his fee.

“It’s not cheap,” he said honestly, “but it could give us just what we need to get the case against you dismissed, or win at a trial.”

“Then it’s worth it.” She made an appointment with him for early January, and wished him a merry Christmas again. And after they hung up, she wondered how fast he’d call Sabrina, or if he’d wait until the new year and play it cool.

Sabrina called her half an hour later, sounding pleased. “You’ll never guess who called me,” she said, surprised, while her mother feigned ignorance.

“Let’s see, Brad Pitt…Harrison Ford…Leonardo DiCaprio?” Sabrina laughed at her mother.

“Yes, obviously. But after they called, Steve Weinstein called me half an hour ago. He invited me to lunch on Sunday. And he asked if I had plans on New Year’s Eve. I guess he just broke up with someone, and he’s at loose ends. I was going to do some work that night. But he suggested dinner and a movie. That sounds about right for someone I don’t know that well. What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” she asked, concerned for her mother. She didn’t want her to be lonely, and she didn’t seem to have a social life these days. She and her sister were both aware of it. It was a big change from the active life she and Andrew had shared when they were married. They were always going to some dinner party in Connecticut, cocktail party in New York, black-tie benefit at a museum, or out to dinner at their favorite restaurants. And now all of that seemed to be gone, and she was sure her mother missed it.

“I’m staying home with a good book,” Sydney said about New Year’s Eve. “And I might do some work too. But you’re too young to do that at twenty-seven. You should go out with Steve.”

“I said I would.” Sabrina sounded pleased. “He’s good company and seems like a nice person. He’s very bright, and has a lot of interests.”

“He strikes me that way too,” and hopefully he’s a brilliant lawyer, Sydney thought to herself. “I thought Grayson did very well last night,” Sydney said generously.

“The poor guy is such a ball of nerves. I always have the feeling that if I say the wrong thing, he’ll run out of the room. But he was very funny at charades, and you were right about Ed Chin. I love him. I was leery about meeting him at first because he worked for that sausage factory, but I see now that he’s a serious person. He was smart to quit. Zeller is going to take everyone down with him, just like he did to you.” Sydney didn’t disagree.

“Well, have fun with Steve. Don’t get him too distracted so he can still win my case.” It was beginning to feel like there was no case to win. Everything had gone back to normal, she was home again, and her four days in jail seemed like a bad dream. But sooner or later, she knew the case would rear its ugly head again, like a snake, and she would have to deal with it.

As she had said she would, Sydney stayed home on New Year’s Eve. She watched some old movies, and did some sketches. Ed called her from a party at midnight. But she didn’t want to be anywhere this year, except at home. She knew she’d probably go out on New Year’s Eve again one day, but it didn’t feel right this year, so soon after Andrew’s death and everything that had happened since.

Sophie called her at midnight to wish her a happy New Year and said that Grayson was asleep. They had stayed home too, and Sophie had watched the ball in Times Square on TV, which seemed a little too sedate to her mother.

Sabrina called her the next day and said she and Steve had gone to dinner in the Village, and instead of the movies, they went skating at Rockefeller Center underneath the giant Christmas tree, and had sat in the bar for hours afterward, drinking champagne and getting to know each other. Sabrina said it had been the perfect New Year’s Eve. Sydney thought it sounded like a great beginning.

After the first of the year, she and Ed got busy with their plans for the business, and tried to define what they wanted their clothes to look like and be noted for. Great fabrics, interesting designs, subtle textures, a look that was structured and serious, but not severe, and now and then had a surprise wisp of softness. They wanted their clothes to be what every woman wanted to wear, and affordable, but not dirt-cheap either, like Lady Louise. There were still a lot of things they needed to work out and decide on, and people they wanted to hire.

In the second week of January, she met with Steve Weinstein again about her case, as they had arranged. He talked to her about the detective he wanted to hire and had used before. And he told her that he wanted to use a local operative in Beijing whom they could send to the manufacturer to see what they were willing to say about Paul Zeller. Steve wanted the detective to turn over every stone until they found the one they needed. He was sure it was there. They just had to find it. Steve agreed to cap the detective’s work at a certain price that they both thought was reasonable, and said he would be willing to front the money for the detective, and she could repay him later, which was a relief to her. The money was flowing like water for her court case, and she didn’t want the faucet open too wide, so she didn’t drown paying for it.

When Sydney met with Steve, they didn’t talk about Sabrina. She didn’t want to mix her business and her daughter’s romance, but she was very curious if they were seeing each other. With Fashion Week only weeks away in New York, she knew that Sabrina must be buried until it was over. And Sophie was just as busy with her line. She had just won an award for the best designs for young juniors, she was thrilled, and Sydney was pleased for her. She had found her perfect niche. Her clothes had a fresh, youthful look that was fun and pretty, and didn’t make teenagers look like hookers.

A week after Sydney’s meeting with Steve, they went to see the deputy U.S. attorney in charge of her case, and he questioned her intensely about Paul Zeller. They acted as though she should know more than she did, and leaned on her heavily. But Sydney insisted truthfully that she knew no more than she had told them. Paul had not confided in her about stolen goods or any illegal activities. And she said again that she had believed the stolen purses were merely copies, though very good ones. The U.S. attorney was not pleased. The grand jury had convened by then, and based on the evidence available to them, the indictment had been confirmed and the case was going forward and proceeding to trial. There was no way out.

In February, she went to Sabrina’s first fashion show for her new company, and Sophie’s presentation. The fashion shows were always dramatic, with hordes of beautiful models, and for the most part spectacular clothes by great designers. Sydney always loved going, for the clothes and to see her daughter’s work. She went with Ed to see Sabrina’s new line, and they commented at length about the clothes as the models went down the runway. Halfway through, she nudged him with her elbow.

“What?” He was surprised if she meant she liked the dress that had just walked past him. He thought it was chic but not exceptional, and so did she. But she was looking toward the front row of seats on the other side of the runway, almost facing them. She hadn’t noticed him before. It was her lawyer, Steve. She smiled at Ed and raised an eyebrow. Steve hadn’t seen them, and they went over to say hello to him after the show. He looked mildly embarrassed, as though they had caught him doing something he shouldn’t.

“I’ve never been to a fashion show before,” he confessed. “Sabrina invited me.”

“It’s fun for you to see,” Sydney encouraged him. “These shows are always crazy, and they spend a fortune producing them. It’s half about the spectacle and half about the clothes.”

“I like what she does,” he said honestly.

“We do too,” Ed added for Sydney and himself.

They drifted apart then, as Ed greeted several people, Sydney stayed with him, and Steve went backstage to congratulate Sabrina. Her mother knew what a crush it would be backstage, and she didn’t want to fight the crowds. She was going to call Sabrina later.

They were on their way back toward the entrance of a tent pitched in Central Park for the event. All the important magazine editors sat in the front rows, like Anna Wintour and Grace Coddington, with her flaming red hair a lot like Sophie’s. And squeezing toward the exit, jostled by the crowd, Sydney suddenly found herself nose to nose with Kyra, her stepdaughter. She was the last person she wanted to meet. And there was no avoiding her, as they were pressed together by the crowd.

“Nice to see you,” Sydney said coolly, but nevertheless politely. Kyra was her stepdaughter, after all, and she said it for Andrew’s sake, since she was his daughter. Sydney knew she came to Fashion Week events often and ordered clothes for the following season.

“Did they let you out of jail to see Sabrina’s show?” Kyra said viciously, and for a moment, Sydney was speechless and didn’t know what to say. There was no way to get away from her. The mob around them held them in place like cement. Sydney didn’t answer her, but she felt as if her stepdaughter had punched her in the solar plexus and knocked the air right out of her. She couldn’t think of a single appropriate response. She turned her head away, and was relieved when the crowd finally moved forward and she could get away.

“What did that woman say to you?” Ed asked her when they were on the path, hurrying away. “You went sheet-white.”

“It was one of my nasty stepdaughters. She made a rude reference to jail.”

“You should have said something,” he scolded her. “I’d have clobbered her with my umbrella.” It had been raining all day. “What a bitch.”

“Yes, she is,” she agreed. But Kyra had really taken the wind out of her sails and spoiled the day for her, and Ed was sorry to see it.

“Don’t give them power over you,” he said to her later when they were back in their office in Chelsea, which had really taken shape. “No one can take away who you are,” he reminded her. She knew it was true. But they had taken her home since Andrew’s death, and even some of her self-confidence and her faith in human nature. It was difficult not to be affected by everything that had changed.

In April, Ed and Sydney did a small, select presentation for an elite group to show a preview of what they would be offering when they introduced their new line at Fashion Week in September. It was a taste of what was to come, and they chose their audience carefully, some of the more important editors, a few major buyers, and select members of the fashion press. Sydney was nervous about it, but Ed was more confident. They did it at their Chelsea location, and served champagne and hors d’oeuvres. They used their favorite models to show the clothes. The idea of a preview was new, and Sydney was afraid it would hurt them if they got bad reviews before they even started. She’d been able to focus on it totally since her next court appearance had been continued until May, which was a relief for her.

Ed’s parents and one of his uncles came from Hong Kong to show support, and Sydney loved seeing them again. She invited her daughters, and introduced them to the Chins. Both she and Ed had family members present to bolster them. There were ten looks in the show, and Sydney had worked relentlessly with the fit models, the patternmakers, and their sewers to get everything just right. Neither she nor Ed got to bed the night before, working right up until the time of the presentation.

“Ready?” Ed asked her, before their VIP guests arrived, and she nodded, feeling breathless. It was terrifying. They had combined their talent, followed their dream, and were now introducing their love child to the world.

They had invited sixty very influential people in the world of fashion. There was valet parking outside. Waiters circulated with flutes of champagne, and there was a table offering American caviar in the corner. They even had more guests than they’d expected. Two of the editors had brought friends, several journalists called and asked to come at the last minute, and the Chins had brought their banker from Hong Kong, who had business in New York that week. His name was Robert Townsend. He was British and had arrived with them. Ed had introduced Sydney to him, but she had been too nervous to pay attention, and had gone backstage again to check on the girls, who were prancing like show horses in their outfits, and knew it was a major event.

Sydney’s heart felt like a drumroll when everyone took their seats and the music began. The lighting was perfect, the music was just right with a sound system they’d rented for the occasion, and everyone sat riveted as the models came out.

There was intense concentration in the room, and all eyes were focused on the girls, as the elite of the industry waited to give their approval, or not, to the two designers who had created Sydney Chin four months before.

The girls came out at a good pace. They had rehearsed countless times, and when the last girl emerged in a spectacular evening gown, in contrast to the more casual but elegant daytime clothes, everyone stood up and there was thunderous applause from the small crowd.

“Fantastic…beautiful…absolutely tops…” Praise for them was flying around the room when the lights came on, and all the Vogue editors were smiling when they left. They had been very supportive of them, as they often were with young designers, and Sydney came under that heading now too, since the line was new, and she had been away from the upper end of the industry for so long. Her brief time at Lady Louise didn’t count, except to pay her rent. The line for them bearing her name had not been introduced before her unfortunate arrest.

Ed came to hug her as she emerged from backstage, people were milling around the room, and more champagne was poured. Ed’s parents had sent them cases of Cristal as a gift.

“I’m not among the cognoscenti of fashion, but that was a beautiful show,” Robert Townsend said to Sydney when he saw her again. Her knees were still shaking, she’d been so stressed. She had put her heart and soul into what she had designed for the presentation, and she and Ed had been working on it tirelessly for months. They were going to include a few of the pieces in their show during Fashion Week, but most of it had been for this particular event, to give people a preview of their combined talents and line. “You must be very proud,” Townsend said.

“Just relieved,” she said honestly. “I was scared to death.” He couldn’t imagine it. She was such a pro, and Ed had told them in Hong Kong months earlier about her history as a top designer twenty years before. “Every show is like the first time,” she said breathlessly, as she accepted a flute of Cristal from a waiter and looked up at him. He seemed very tall, although she wasn’t short, but she was wearing flat shoes. He looked about fifty years old, with a thick head of dark hair and an impeccable haircut, with gray at his temples and deep blue eyes, almost the same color as hers. She was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, and black suede ballerina shoes. Ed had been wearing similar black jeans and T-shirt when they stepped onto the runway, holding hands, and quickly took a bow.

“We’re very proud of Ed in Hong Kong,” Bob Townsend said with a warm smile. “We just wish he’d come home more often. He’ll be too busy now, for a while anyway.”

“We’ll show the whole collection here in September,” she explained, “but we might do a show there sometime,” as a charity event, or in deference to his hometown.

“You should come and see us too,” he said politely.

“I was there with Ed last year. It’s an amazing city.”

“It is,” he agreed, watching her closely. He thought she was a beautiful woman with startling, deep, sad eyes. He could see that life had not been easy for her, despite her gracious manner and warm way of speaking with people. “I grew up in London, but I fell in love with Hong Kong the first time I saw it. I’ve lived in several cities in Asia, Shanghai, Tokyo, but Hong Kong owns my heart.” She smiled at what he said. “I can’t imagine leaving it. I travel a lot, but I’m always happy to get back.” Ed’s parents joined them then, and they chatted for a few more minutes, and then she moved on to their other guests. It was nearly nine when the last one left, still congratulating them. Ed was having dinner with his family that night at 21 and had invited her to join them, but she said she was exhausted and looked a mess.

“So do I, so what?” Ed said, beaming at her. “We’re stars now,” he said grandly, and they both laughed, knowing that it could have just as easily gone the other way and been a bomb. Steve and Sabrina had left by then, and had a dinner party to go to, and Sophie had to go home and work. Ed insisted that Sydney couldn’t just go back to her apartment after their tour de force. She finally agreed to join them, and took a cab with Ed to the restaurant, and they chatted on the way uptown, as they both started to unwind. Sydney had eaten and slept so little in the past twenty-four hours that she was feeling the effects of a single glass of champagne, and said she felt drunk.

“If I fall asleep at the table, kick me,” she warned him. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Me too.” The pressure was off, and the night had been a victory for them. “I saw you talking to Bob Townsend after the show. He’s a great guy. He’s not like most bankers. He was married to one of the most famous Chinese writers. They got divorced years ago. She moved to London and left him with four kids. He was married to a famous Chinese actress briefly after that. He’s not as serious as he looks.” Ed laughed.

“Sounds like a player,” she commented with a yawn. She could hardly stay awake.

“Not really. I grew up with his kids. If I were straight, I’d marry his oldest daughter in a hot minute,” he said, grinning. “And his son is a writer. They’re a talented, enterprising bunch. He’s a big art collector, and he represents some of the really big money in Hong Kong. He comes here a lot.”

“So he said.” They had reached the restaurant by then, and got out of the taxi. Ed’s parents had reserved the private room and had invited several friends to join them. Everyone congratulated Ed and Sydney again as soon as they walked in and gave them a round of applause. Sydney felt like she had won an Oscar or a CFDA Fashion Award. Their first presentation had definitely been a success. And when they sat down at the dinner in their designated seats, she found herself next to Bob Townsend. He seemed intriguing now that she knew more about him. And at least she knew something about his children from Ed.

“Ed told me your son is a writer,” she said as they waited for the preordered dinner to arrive, with all of 21’s specialties. She hadn’t been there in a long time and had forgotten how much she liked it. The atmosphere in the private room was relaxed and congenial.

“He’s trying to be,” Bob said with a wry smile. “He just finished his first novel. One of my daughters is a painter in Shanghai. My youngest is in medical school in England, and my oldest daughter is a chef at one of the best French restaurants in Hong Kong. She studied at Cordon Bleu in Paris.” He smiled with pride as he went down the list, and she could see how much he loved his kids. She suspected they must have had a special bond if he brought them up alone.

“That’s quite a variety of talents,” she said, thinking about it. He had obviously encouraged them to pursue their dreams, however different. And if so, it seemed admirable to her.

“Were those your daughters at the show?” he asked her. “One of them looks just like you. You could have been sisters.” She knew he meant Sabrina. Sophie looked entirely different with her wild mane of red curls.

“They were there. They’re both designers. I guess I gave them the fashion bug when they were little. I used to take them to haute couture shows in Paris. I was working as a designer when they were growing up, before I remarried.”

“And after you did?” He was interested in what she had to say, and the woman behind the talent. Ed had spoken highly of her.

“I retired. I just came back into the industry last year.” He could sense that there was more to the story.

“You’re divorced?” Ed hadn’t said if she was married or not.

“Widowed.” She tried to make it seem matter-of-fact and not pathetic. She was slowly getting used to the word and the sound of it on her lips to describe herself. It always felt as though she was talking about someone else. How could she be a widow at forty-nine? But she was.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she nodded, not wanting to go into it. “It’s good that you went back to work,” he commented sensibly. “My wife and I got divorced when our children were very young, and she left Hong Kong. They used to spend summers and holidays with her. They were with me the rest of the time. I felt sorry for myself for a while, a long while, and then I got busy again. We lived in Tokyo for five years, Shanghai for two, we went back to England for a year, and then we came back to Hong Kong. Moving around like that opened a whole world to them, and to me too. The downside of course is that now they feel the world is their oyster, and they live all over the place. At least I have two in Hong Kong now. My two oldest. Both my younger daughters have acute wanderlust. We all do. I would have liked to spend a year in Paris with them when they were younger, but I don’t have business dealings there. My work takes me between London, Asia, and New York. It’s not a bad assortment of cities. I’m here about every six weeks, sometimes every month.” He was an important figure in international finance, Ed had told her, mostly with immensely wealthy Chinese clients.

“My husband was an investment banker, but not internationally. We went to Paris a lot, though. I love it. I’m selling our apartment there now,” she said, trying not to sound sad about it.

“What a pity. You don’t think you’ll go there anymore?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to pry.

“Too many memories,” she said succinctly, and he didn’t pursue the subject, but nodded that he understood. He wondered if she’d feel differently with time.

“Most of us don’t see it that way, but there are chapters in our lives,” he said quietly. “We want to believe that the same characters will be in the story forever. But it rarely seems to work out that way. Some characters leave the story, others come along. It keeps it lively and surprising, don’t you think?” He looked sympathetic as he said it.

“I’ve never thought of it that way. I guess I expected the story to stay the same forever. It’s easier that way.”

“We don’t often get to make that choice. Fate does it for us.” He smiled wisely. “I’m fifty-four years old, I’ve been married twice, to two very interesting, unusual women. I didn’t plan it that way, but looking at it now, I might have been bored if the story hadn’t changed radically from time to time.”

“I’ve been married twice too,” she admitted. “My first marriage wasn’t destined to last forever. My second could have, and should have.” She was still holding on to the shreds of her marriage to Andrew, although there was so little left of what they’d shared. And she no longer felt like the same person that she was then.

“Apparently it wasn’t meant to last then, if it didn’t,” he said philosophically. “That’s easy for me to say. And some changes are much harder than others. I seem to learn most of my lessons the hard way,” he added, laughing at himself. “My children keep me honest. Whenever I feel sorry for myself, they remind me of how much fun I’ve had, boot me in the butt, and tell me to get on with it. And they’re quite right usually. And when I’m sad over what I lost, I often find that things look better in the rearview mirror than they really were, in my case anyway.” After the last eight months, she knew he had a point. She had loved Andrew, but the mess he had left her in had tarnished some of her memories of him. “So what are your plans now?” he asked, changing the subject. “Huge success with Edward in your new business, obviously. I think we got a glimpse of the future tonight. You have good times to look forward to,” he said with certainty. He was a strong and positive person, and she liked that about him.

“I’m so happy we started the business. It’s a fantastic opportunity for me. I love being back in fashion, and designing with him,” she said warmly with a smile.

“He’s clearly enjoying it too. You’re a wonderful combination artistically,” he complimented her, and meant it.

“I love the collaboration. We complement each other’s work. He softens mine, and I toughen his up a little.” It was about fabrics, structure, and style. Ed could never resist a flowing fabric, or something that would float if draped right. She liked stronger shapes and cleaner lines. They had managed to incorporate both in the work they’d done so far.

“Would you ever want to have your own line? Just you, not a collaboration?” he asked her, curious, as their meal arrived and they started eating. He had chosen the filet mignon, and she was having steak tartare. The other options were lobster and a vegetarian entree.

“I hope not,” she said in answer to his question. “I want to design with Ed for a long, long time. This is just the beginning.” He nodded, and she thought of what he’d said before, that there were chapters in life. But this was a new story for her, with Ed as a business partner. “How long will you be in New York?” she asked him.

“A few days. A week at most. I’m going to San Francisco after this, to meet with some venture capitalists. And then back to Hong Kong. But I’ll be back in a month or two.”

She was seated next to one of Ed’s uncles on her other side, Phillip, the one who had referred her to Steve Weinstein, and she thanked him again in a low voice while they chatted, and Bob Townsend turned his attention to the person on his left.

“I hope everything worked out,” Phillip said to her about her court case. “That sounded like a very nasty experience,” he said, sorry for her.

“It was, it is. We’re still working on it,” she said, and they changed the subject.

It turned out to be a delightful evening, and ended around midnight. She left Ed and the others on the sidewalk, and after thanking his parents, she said good night to Bob and told him she’d enjoyed talking to him, and then took a cab back to her apartment. She could barely make it to her bedroom, lay down on the bed, and fell asleep with her clothes on. It had been a perfect night. It was official. The firm of Sydney Chin had been born.