A Broken Kind of Beautiful by Katie Ganshert Read Free Book Online Page A

spilled into a giant abyss—one she couldn’t see into no matter how hard she tried. She gripped the arms of her chair and stared at the wall, annoyed at the thickness crowding her throat.
    “I didn’t do anybody any favors,” Bruce said.
    “Just yourself, right? I’ve lost my usefulness, so now it’s time to chuck me.”
    “You’re sitting in my office. Obviously I haven’t chucked you.”
    “You’re exiling me to Podunk, South Carolina. Same thing.”
    “There aren’t any other options, kid. You need to get your head on straight. I need an excuse to get you out of New York before you break Ventino’s heart. And I hate to break it to you, Ivy, but nobody else is making any offers.”

7

    The indistinct chatter of dinner conversation circled the room as Davis looked at the menu without really seeing it. Joan Calloway, a woman with spiky copper hair and lime-green glasses, sat across from him. Marilyn sat to his left. Joan worked out of Charleston, the headquarters for Southern Brides . She met Marilyn and Davis halfway, in a little town called Sutton Creek, and now they sat in a small Sicilian diner, ready to talk about the editorial. Joan set her menu down. “I am so thrilled you are going to do the shoot, Davis. As soon as I saw your work, I fell in love.”
    The waitress saved him from attempting a response. “Have all y’all decided what you’re going to eat tonight?” she asked with a friendly smile.
    Joan handed over her menu. “I’ll have the orange and fennel salad.”
    The waitress turned to Marilyn.
    “The same, please.”
    Davis picked the first thing he found. “How about the eggplant caponata?”
    “Sure thing.” The young lady took all three menus and left to punch in their orders.
    “Let’s talk about the shoot, shall we?” Joan pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “The current fashion trend right now is quirky and chic. Which is exactly the kind of dress your aunt makes. But as you well know, fashion is fickle. I need to capture this trend before things change.
    “I’m thinking a four- to six-picture spread. I’m thinking big contrast. Historic south meets contemporary brides.” Joan used her hands when she spoke, bracketing the air as if framing an imaginary caption. “I’m friends with Candace Lipowitz, the manager of the old Primrose Plantation in Greenbrier. She’s agreed to meet with you Sunday morning to give you aprivate tour. That way you can check out the location and get a storyboard together for me. We need to get this photo shoot done pronto if we have any chance of running it in the August issue.”
    Davis blinked. It was as if somebody had picked him out of the warm sun and tossed him into a pool, no chance to dip in his toes. One minute he was the maintenance man at Cornerstone Church, and the next he was sitting with a fashion editor for a major bridal magazine, listening as she rattled off all sorts of familiar details, and he couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
    “When is our model due to arrive?” Joan asked.
    Marilyn sipped sweet tea through a straw. “Ivy’s flight arrives on Saturday.”
    “Never in a million years did I think somebody like Ivy Clark would shoot for my magazine. And you, my photographer? This is going to be the best editorial we’ve ever done.” She reached across the table and gripped Marilyn’s hand. “This is going to bring your bridal wear line into the public eye, honey. I wouldn’t be surprised if brides come calling from all across America. And you, young man”—Joan kept Marilyn’s hand pinned beneath hers but turned her eyes on Davis—“you’d better free up your schedule. I know more work offers will come.”
    Her words might as well have been a clap of thunder over his head. The question he couldn’t shake since yesterday blinked in his mind’s eye like a flashing sign.
    What was he doing?
    Marilyn patted his forearm with her unoccupied hand. “It’s going to be the perfect jumping-off point for