Cruel Muse Chapter Fourteen
The next day, Dorothea provided Val with a stack of catalogs with her breakfast, and told her to write down what she wanted. “We must get you some new clothes of your own,” she said. “You deserve the finest, latest fashions. When you are the next darling of the art world, you can’t show up in antiques.”
Val whistled as she flipped through the pages, browsing colorful day dresses made of cotton and rayon and polyester, the sort of clothes she’d had in her closet at home. Then, she turned to the pages full of less practical clothing, floor length gowns in silks and satins, adorned with marabou and lace. These seemed far more appropriate for someone who was to be Dorothea’s protegé. Dorothea wore finer clothing to sleep in than Val had worn to parties, even weddings. Overalls would never again grace her dresser drawers. She selected six gowns, five blouses, three skirts, and one pair of silk gaucho pants. Five pairs of shoes. A wool jacket. She also added numerous underthings, still feeling odd to be wearing those of a stranger.
With that done, Val once again tried to call Jane. This time, the call connected.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Jane asked, her voice heavy with concern. “Are you getting settled in?”
“Everything is lovely,” Val crooned. “It’s like a dream.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been worried about you. I know you have a hard time reaching out when you’re sad.”
“Why would I be sad?”
There was a long silence on the other end, then Jane took a deep breath and said, carefully, “Val, your dad just died a week ago.”
