was not lost on Dominique, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.
* * *
Every photographer in the state of Louisiana must have been camped out on the steps and the streets bordering Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church, hoping to get that money shot of the bride and groom and, of course, the political and entertainment figures that made up the Who’s Who guest list.
The forty-five minute service brought tears to the eyes of the most cynical of hearts when Desiree and Spence shared their personally written vows and professed their love for each other with God and four-hundred-plus guests as witnesses.
Yet, even with that many people on the guest list, the wedding planner and her team were miraculously able to make the reception feel intimate and personal from the seating arrangements to the decor.
The band played everything from zydeco to slow jams, R&B classics, to blues and jazz. Rafe joined the band and did a solo performance on his sax playing his rendition of “Just the Two of Us,” by Grover Washington, Jr. in tribute to his sister and new brother-in-law.
Dominique did what she did best, flit like a bee from one flower to the next, teasing, cajoling and mesmerizing. But even as she remained one of the bright lights of the lavish affair she couldn’t shake off a feeling of disconnect.
Everywhere that she looked, couples were laughing, hugging, kissing or looking for a corner to sneak away to. They all seemed to have someone to go home with, spend tomorrow and the day after with.
She reached for a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and took a short sip as her toffee-colored eyes moved around the room. Paul LeMont, her date for the evening, came up alongside her and placed a light kiss on her exposed neck. She didn’t feel a thing, not a tingle, not a spark, even as the warmth of his lush mouth played against the fine veins of her throat and his whispered words hinted at what he had in store for her later. She would let him take her to his home tonight. Tonight of all nights she didn’t want to sleep alone. And sleep is all they would do.
Dominique turned into his embrace and looked up at his cover model face. “Let’s dance.”
Chapter 2
Dominique navigated her Mercedes coupe in the direction of her office, turning onto Magnolia Court North before making the left onto Main Street into the heart of downtown Baton Rouge.
“It was so good seeing you and Jackson and the kids at the wedding,” Dominique said, speaking into her headset to her best girlfriend, Zoe Beaumont-Treme. “I wish Cynthia could have made it.”
“Me, too, but she was with us in spirit from Paris. Your aunt Jacqueline looked incredible. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“I know. Neither have we. She writes to Rafe every now and then from wherever she may be with her job. But her and dad haven’t spoken since…Uncle David.”
“That’s really such a shame. When all else fails what you have left is family.”
“She said she may stay in Louisiana for a little while before she picks up her next assignment. Who knows maybe she and dad will find a way to work through things.”
“I hope so. Not to change the subject but I’m still wowing over your sister’s dress. Is she back from her honeymoon yet?”
“They came home last week. She looks fantastic. I still can’t believe Desi is married. She’s now Desiree Hampton.”
“Is Desi going to hyphenate her name?” Zoe asked.
“I don’t know. Why is it that women have to take the man’s name, anyway? It is so yesterday. Things are changing but not fast enough and until they do, I intend to hold on to my own.” Not that she had any immediate prospects in that regard, but that was beside the point. It was the principle.
“Girl, when the right man comes along I want to be a fly on the wall to hear what you have to say then.”
Dominique heard one of Zoe’s twins crying in the background. “I hear duty calling.”
Zoe laughed lightly. “Those are ‘we’re hungry cries.’ I’d better go. I’ll call you over the weekend. Maybe we can meet up for lunch.”
“Sure. Take care. Kiss the kids…and Jackson.”
“Will do. Bye, sweetie.”
Dominique heard the call disconnect in her ear. An odd feeling of sadness swept through her. She and Zoe and Cynthia had been friends since they were little girls. When Zoe moved to Atlanta a few years earlier to pursue her career as a curator at the High Museum, and Cynthia a year later to open her business, it was difficult but they still managed to get together. They took vacations, shared secrets and shoes, and then Jackson Treme stepped into Zoe’s life and everything changed for good. Now she was a married woman with two-year-old twins. But at least she and Jackson had moved back to Louisiana, so they did get to see each other more often, and Cynthia had been thinking of expanding her business and opening a secondary location back in her hometown of Louisiana. It would be great to have her girls back again.
Dominique pulled onto her street and drove around the corner to the small lot behind her building and parked her car, cut the engine, dropped her cell phone into her purse and got out. The alarm chirped as she pushed through the doors of the back entrance.
Getting First Impressions off the ground was Dominique’s pride and joy. Everyone in her very ambitious family—save for her older brother, Rafe—was involved in something important. Sure, she could have spent her days shopping and lunching and traveling, but with her best friends married or moved away she found her days becoming empty and meaningless. She wanted her father to be proud of her, too, and that would have never happen if she’d continued living her life the way she’d been living it. He’d threatened on more than one occasion to cut off her endless funds if she didn’t get her life together.
It was her older sister, Lee Ann, who had helped her to explore some of the ideas that had been running around in her head. If there was anything that Dominique was good at it was shopping and clothes. Her first thought was to open an exclusive boutique and use her many contacts to supply one-of-a-kind items.
“That’s wonderful,” Lee Ann had said, “but who needs another exclusive boutique? Who is that helping? What about supplying quality clothing for women who can’t afford them?”
That was the seed of the idea that materialized into First Impressions. It was a top-of-the-line clothing establishment that provided clothing to low-income women that were returning to the workplace or needed that special one-of-a-kind outfit for an event. It started off small, but after less than six months in business she could barely keep up. She had a full staff that screened all of the applicants, stocked the racks and kept up with inventory.
Dominique’s sense of style and understanding of what each woman needed to make them feel special was an integral part of the company’s success. Now, with a bit more than two years in business, she was ready to expand and include a training program for women as part of her services. To do that she needed more space.
For the past month she’d been reviewing applications from contractors and had finally narrowed down her search to one: T. Jackson Contracting. She’d heard great things about the company, and was impressed with their proposal. She had a meeting scheduled with the owner in less than an hour.
* * *
Trevor Jackson maneuvered his Range Rover down the narrow street, slowing periodically to search for the address. He stopped in front of the building with the teal-blue awning and plate-glass window. “First Impressions” was emblazoned in bright white letters. He turned the corner and found a parking space. He draped the strap of his camera around his neck, took his iPad to take notes and walked back to the entrance.
He opened the glass-and-wood front door and a bell chimed. From the outside the size was deceiving. It was much larger than he expected and everywhere that he looked there were racks