Page 72 of House of Scarlett
Meryl says nothing until we reach her office. Instead of it being a meticulously appointed space with floor-to-ceiling windows and thousands of dollars in furnishings, I’m surprised to see a fairly basic large black desk, bookshelves with photos, and a dozen piles of books and files scattered on every flat surface.
“I know you’re expecting something that looks more photo-worthy, but this is how work really gets done around here.”
“I’m not judging, I swear.”
“Good, then you can sit. Here, let me clear off this chair.” Meryl scoops up a pile of files from the guest chair and moves it to a side table. “I’m sure your office is perfectly neat and tidy at all times, ready to snap and post a photo whenever it suits you.”
“To be totally honest, Meryl, I actually do most of my work at my kitchen table or in bed. I rarely sit at my desk, and that’s the only reason it’s always neat and tidy.”
A little of the standoffishness fades from her gaze. “Ah, so you just don’t show the world that piece of your life.”
I smile. “My store is calledCuratedrather thanRealityfor a reason, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here, Ms. Priest?”
“Please, call me Scarlett. Ms. Priest feels too formal. And I’m here because I want to come to your event, but my invitation got lost in the mail.”
Meryl tilts her head to one side. “Can I be frank, Scarlett?”
“Of course.”
“Your invitation didn’t so much get lost in the mail as never mailed because I didn’t think you’d care to attend. This event isn’t about photo ops and publicity. It’s about raising money to assist kids who might not otherwise get any support.”
Her words sting and help me realize that her opinion of me is even lower than I thought.
“I care about causes too. Just because I make my living in a way you consider frivolous doesn’t mean I’m heartless.”
“I never figured you for heartless. Just self-absorbed.”
Her quick comeback stings even more, and the chances of me getting an invite, let alone securing her as a client, are sitting at slim-to-none right now.
I straighten my shoulders in my seat and decide that I’m done beating around the bush. “And because I’m so self-absorbed, my money isn’t good enough for your cause?”
That gives her pause. “I never said that.”
I brace my elbows on my knees and lean forward. “Then what’s your problem with me?”
She narrows her gaze on me. “You really expect me to believe that you don’t know your mother practically slammed her door in my face when I was starting this place, and told me not to ask her for money ever again?”
My mouth drops open. “No ... she didn’t.” A hot wave of shame washes over me at the thought of my mother, whose pedestal seems to get taller with every year that passes since she died, saying something like that to Meryl.
“She did.”
I lift my hand to my face and drop my forehead into it. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.”
Meryl’s expression softens a bit. “I know you and your mother were very close, and I hate to speak ill of the dead. But she left a lasting impression on me, and I’m afraid I’ve transferred that to you rather unfairly.”
“I had no idea. Truly. My mother ... she was passionate about charity too. I’m not sure why she would’ve done that. She ...”
For the first time, I realize what a lost cause pursuing Meryl as a client has been, and wonder how many other ways I’ve canonized my mother since she passed away. Once someone is gone, it’s so easy to think of them as being more saintly than human, but I know she had her flaws too. Still, it hurts to be confronted with them in Meryl Fosse’s office.
I shake my head, horrified as tears burn behind my eyes once more.I can’t cry in front of her. Not now. Jesus, Scarlett, pull yourself together.
I pop out of my chair, intent on running out of her office, but Meryl’s hushed words stop me.
“Please, don’t go. I’m afraid your mother and I had our differences, but since I can’t apologize to her for holding on to them, I can apologize to you. She believed your father had an interest in me before any of us were married, and I didn’t think it was important to address, given that I was already in love with someone else. But I let her think she was right. I ... it was a petty thing. I should’ve let it go many years ago. It never should have even started, to be honest.”
I couldn’t fathom why Meryl would object so strongly to Curated, but now I get it. Old grudges die hard. “Thank you for telling me that. I suppose I’ve done a good job of making my mother seem like she was perfect in life now that she’s gone. It’s so much easier to focus on the good, you know?”
