Nobody's Fool by Barbara Meyers Page B

in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. Maybe not since high school. When Court was there to tell you how wonderful all your sketches were? She didn’t want to think that was so, that in abandoning Court she’d somehow also abandoned herself, her dreams, her inspiration. Whatever the reason, she was inspired now.
    She had three new looks she thought were pretty good along with notes and preliminary sketches for several others. She set to work adding detail to the three. She’d moved on to a fourth sketch when Court plunked down next to her. The swing gave a jerk and Jolie grabbed for her tablet, which threatened to slide off her lap. The high-tech piece of equipment wouldn’t be easily replaced, especially since she needed to back up everything she’d just done.
    Her heart had skipped a beat, but that might have just been from the shock. She gave Court a half-annoyed, half-pleased glance. “A little warning would have been nice,” she said, clutching the pad in both hands and securing it back on her lap.
    “I said hello and asked if I could join you,” Court told her, setting the swing in motion with one long leg. “I took your silence for acquiescence.”
    “You must have been whispering because I never heard a word.”
    She looked down at the pad, letting her hair shield her face, trying to still the uneven beat of her heart and concentrate on the sketch she’d been working on.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Working.”
    “On what? Can I see?”
    She almost told Court he was as big a pain as ever, but she didn’t because it occurred to her that Court was the only person she’d ever shown her design ideas to until she went to college, and only then because she had to. Criticism, even when she knew it to be valid, made her cringe. But praise was almost worse. She either couldn’t believe it or she didn’t trust the source. Wasn’t it in her instructors’ best interest to see her do well? Her success would reflect back on them, wouldn’t it? She hadn’t believed them and somehow that had made her stop believing in herself.
    Only Court had believed in her talent from the start. He had no vested interest in her success or failure. In his eyes she could do no wrong and somehow back then, she’d believed that of herself. Not that she was perfect, or that everything she produced was. But she’d trusted the effort, the process.
    When she left Oak Ridge she’d disconnected herself from the only person who’d given her unqualified, unquestioning support. Why had she done that? Why had she run away from everything Court had offered?
    Court asked, “Is it some top-secret design work? For the First Lady, perhaps?”
    She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and smiled. “No, she hasn’t called yet. Of course you can see.”
    She tilted the pad toward him and swiped through the four pages of ideas. She continued using her finger to swipe from one image to the next through the rest of the preliminary sketches. “These are some ideas I haven’t finished yet.”
    “Can you go back to the first ones, but go slower.”
    Jolie did so, allowing Court to study each in turn for as long as he wanted. He made comments on each. “I like the big buttons on this one.” “Are those zippers on the cuffs?” “Ruffles trimmed with leather? Has that been done before?” “I like the jacket. It’s got a soft biker chic look going for it.”
    She powered down the tablet and tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy with Court next to her. “Those are fantastic,” he said. “What are they for?”
    She debated answering, but only for a moment. This was Court, after all. “After you mentioned Melina last night, I got inspired.”
    Court stopped the swing. “These are for her? For her line?”
    Jolie hedged. “Well, she was the inspiration for them.”
    “Jolie, these are really great. I think Melina would flip over them.”
    Jolie let herself bask in Court’s unqualified enthusiasm, just a little. “Do you? I see