Tanya rushed the dais. “Thank you. Thank you, Mr. King,” she said. Shaking Denis’ hand and grabbing the mike, she went on. “You have no idea what this will mean to us. There is so much work to be done and now, with my leadership and your capital, we can make this the finest fashion institute in all the world!”
Denis touched Tanya’s shoulder and whispered in her ear.
“Oh, sorry. Mr. King has more to say.” She stepped away from the mike, but stood on the dais.
Denis gave Tanya an annoyed look; at least that was my interpretation. “Thank you,” he said. “As is customary with donors of large gifts, the board of directors has allowed me to have a limited hand in the direction the museum will take in the future. And our first order of business was to name the institute for a woman I care deeply about.” Denis gestured to a large sign on an easel that had been covered with black velvet draping.
I glanced at Lucille, who was smiling demurely, and Sydney, who looked like she had pickle juice running through her veins. Guess we know who’s getting the museum named after her, I thought.
Phinnaeus whipped off the cloth to reveal the new name of the museum: The Holly Boss Institute of Fashion.
Everyone looked around, confused. Who in tarnation was Holly Boss? they had to be wondering. That was odd, I thought. They’re giving the directorship to someone with a name similar to mine…
“Well, what do you know?” Denis said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “There’s a typo.” He was staring right at me.
“Oh, dear, sorry about that,” Phinnaeus said. “As you mentioned, when you give an institution one hundred million dollars, you have a say in its future direction. And Mr. King has been most effective in persuading our board members that our museum is ready for a different kind of leader, a new boss, if you will. And that new leader is our own Holly Boss—I mean Ross.” Phinnaeus gestured my way and the crowd began chattering. Everyone stared at me. I would have reacted if I could have found my jaw. It was somewhere on the floor.
“Now, wait just a moment,” Tanya started. “As the director, I have some say in this matter…”
“Now, don’t you worry, Tanya,” Phinnaeus said. “You’re a talented girl. I’m sure Holly will find a role for you.”
“But—but,” she stammered, “why?”
Phinnaeus spoke under his breath, but it was loud enough for those of us in the front to hear. “She brings more to the table than you. It’s that simple.”
“What does she bring that I don’t?” Tanya said.
“One hundred million dollars, you fool,” Phinnaeus said through clenched teeth.
Rags to Riches
OKAY, LET ME GET this straight. Last week I was fired. Today my cup runneth over with two fashion museums to run. It was eerily reminiscent of the last time all my dreams converged into one perfect storm—when I was on the brink of being married and promoted. We all know how that turned out.
I could not believe this was happening. My mouth was drier than happy hour at the Betty Ford Clinic. I gulped down half an abandoned, lipstick-stained flute of champagne, which was teeming with someone else’s microorganisms.
Denis held up his hands to stop the chatter. “Holly Ross, our new director, why don’t you come up here so everyone can meet you?”
I floated up the steps to the stage, stood next to Denis, and faced the crowd. “I’m smiling and pretending to be joking with you,” I whispered, “but I’m going to kill you. How could you surprise me with this?”
“Now we’re even,” he said, laughing at his lame typo joke. Let’s face it: typo jokes are only rarely funny.
Nigel, Cosima, and Elaina were holding on to each other, their mouths open so wide I could count their fillings. Gus, my favorite security guard, was standing in the back of the room giving me the thumbs-up signal. He looked ten years younger. Sammie and Tanya were fuming in the corner next to Sydney—the three scrooges. I wondered why Sydney wasn’t up here and what she must think about Denis naming the museum for me and not her. She’s got to be pissed, I thought.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Denis said, “Holly Ross is a hidden gem at this museum. She came here after earning her master’s at the Fashion Institute of Technology. I had the opportunity to see Holly in action recently while in Italy. First she bewitched a ship full of cruisers who have seen and heard it all with her mesmerizing lecture on the history of underwear. Then some valuable costumes went missing while in transit to another museum in Rome. Holly was relentless in getting those pieces returned to where they belonged. I’ve never seen such dogged determination in one person, and when I had the opportunity, through my wallet, to influence the leadership of this institution, I knew Holly was the one. This woman is the da Vinci of fashion historians.” Denis caught my eye and smiled, flashing those irresistible dimples.
Oh, stop, please, I thought modestly. ’Twas I who lost those dresses in the first place…
“Holly,” Denis said, “I’m sure everyone would love to hear from you.”
This was awkward.
I stepped up to the mike. A hush fell over the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m honored. I’m flattered. I’m shocked. I don’t know what to say, really, other than thank you for this show of confidence. But I’m…I’m going to have to…Denis, could I have a word with you in private?”
(I Did It) My Way
AS THE CROWD BUZZED with speculation, I led Denis to a walnut-paneled anteroom behind the dais.
“You should see yourself right now,” Denis said. “What?”
“You are the most magnetic woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, brushing my cheek with his
