Chapter 7

"Dad, I'm sorry," Jenny started when they were both seated across the dining room table from each other. She folded her hands on the table and stared down at them. "I shouldn't have just left like that."

"No, you shouldn't have," Rufus agreed, his tone calm and easygoing as he leaned back on the seat.

"But I need you to understand why I left Eleanor's." She lifted her eyes to his, her gaze pleading.

Rufus waited for a second. "OK. Tell me."

"Do you remember the fashion show I went to during fashion week? The one for Eleanor's show?"

Rufus nodded, grimacing for a beat as he remembered Jenny's open defiance of him then, too. "I remember."

"Dad, the last dress of the show—the finale dress—got mixed up. Anyway, the model who went on stage went on with my dress—not Eleanor's. Eleanor was ready to fire me on the spot when she found out that dress was the hit of the entire show. People loved it."

Rufus frowned, not seeing where this was going.

Jenny sighed softly, suddenly ashamed. "I let Eleanor take the credit for my dress."

His eyebrows shot up, stunned.

"Eleanor took credit for the dress I made, and in return she said she would let me sit in on some meetings with potential buyers and investors."

"It never happened?" he guessed.

She shook her head sadly. "Nope. In fact, one of the representatives from a clothing store came to look at Eleanor's new line we were all working on, and the only dress he liked was one I made. Eleanor wanted to take credit for it, too."

"And you told her no?"

"Well, not at first," Jenny admitted. "I started hanging out with Agnes—one of Eleanor's models. Agnes sort of made me see that Eleanor was taking advantage of me. When I confronted Eleanor, she didn't care. I took my dress and left."

Rufus steepled his fingers, thinking. "Why didn't you just tell me right away?"

"I don't know, Dad. I guess I just tried for so long to convince you I could handle this, that I could do it … Telling you what happened seemed like I failed."

"Jenny, that's not failing," he told her gently. "Standing up to Eleanor took guts, and I'm proud of you for that."

"You are?" She blinked in surprise.

Nodding, Rufus leaned across the table to take one of her hands in his. "Yes, Jen. I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself. But I'm also disappointed you didn't come to me."

"I should have," she conceded, bowing her head. "And I'm sorry I didn't."

"Where have you been the last few days?" Rufus asked, shifting gears. "I know you weren't at your mother's."

"I stayed with Agnes. She has an apartment with a few other models on the East Side."

"You should have called."

"I know."

"Why did you come back?"

"Honestly?"

Rufus nodded.

"To pack," Jenny answered bluntly.

"You're leaving." Rufus barely managed to get the words out, his eyes rounding in panic. "Back to Agnes? Or to stay with your mom? Or is there some other friend you'll be living with I don't know about?"

"I'd like to stay here, Dad," she answered softly, almost afraid of his response. "I mean, if you'll let me."

Relieved, he wasn't about to take her answer at face-value. "What changed your mind?"

"Nate," she replied, a small smile playing at her lips. "He told me that I should work things out with you."

"I'm glad you stayed."

"Me, too." Jenny grinned. "But where does this leave us? You want me to go back to Constance, and I…"

"You what, Jen? We tried it your way. I let you leave school to pursue fashion, and that didn't work out." Rufus' gaze wasn't judgmental, nor his tone condescending, but Jenny still felt the glaring spotlight of failure around her.

"I want to start my own line," she finally answered confidently. "Dad, with all the praise my dress got at fashion week and that buyer's interest in my other dress—"

He held up two fingers. "That's two people, Jenny. Two people who think you're talented. And while I'm happy for you, you're fifteen and not ready to start your own business. Trust me."

"But I could try!" she protested, feeling her dream slipping away.

"Here's the deal I'm prepared to make," Rufus said firmly, meeting her gaze levelly. "You can continue working on your designs and home schooling yourself—"

Jenny gasped, elated. "Thank you, Dad! I—"

He held up a hand to silence her. "But, if you're serious about designing, you need to enroll in a design school for the spring semester. That gives you a little over three months to find a school that will take you part time."

Her jaw dropped. "Design school? You're serious?"

He nodded. "I am. I want you to succeed, Jenny, but you're still young. I think design school while you continue home schooling yourself will be a good balance."

She nibbled on her lower lip, seeing a sudden flaw in the plan. "What if I don't get into a design school?"

He didn't flinch. "You enroll back at Constance for the following school year."

Jenny let out a long breath. "OK. Deal."

***

"Nate? Nate!"

He paused and turned when he heard his voice being shouted over the noise of the street.

"Excuse me," Blair snapped to a Wall Street Suit who came too close to stepping on her Jimmy Choo flats. She tossed a curtain of mahogany hair over her shoulder, grinning at Nate as she lengthened her strides to catch up to him.

"Hey," he smiled as she caught up to him. "What's up?"

She smiled up at him, linking her arm through his and propelling him into motion. "Walk with me," she commanded.

Chuckling to himself, Nate let her take the lead just as he had for most of their relationship. This time all he felt was amusement. "Where are we going?"

"Serendipity is around the corner. We'll go there."

Nate pulled them to a sharp stop. "Why are we going to a restaurant? What's going on, Blair?"

Blair sighed, mildly annoyed at being halted in the middle of the sidewalk. "We're friends again, right?"

"Right," he said slowly, dragging the word at.

"Why am I hearing from Serena that you're living at the Humphrey's now?"

Nate laughed. "Wow. I've been staying there for weeks, and you're just now getting around to asking me?"

"I've been busy," she retorted. "I'm still trying to find the appropriate DJ for the Winter Gala, applying for Yale, and many other important things."

"Yes, Blair," he relented. "I'm staying at the Humphrey's."

"Why not with Chuck?" she asked plainly, not caring to mention their complicated past. She, Nate, and Chuck had come to terms with it over the summer, and she was glad that she and Nate had managed to salvage a tenuous friendship out of the debacle. Nate and Chuck, however, seemed to have fallen right back into being best friends after the van der Woodsen-Bass nuptials.

At least until recently.

"Dan offered," Nate hedged. "Besides, I like it there."

"You do?" Her look of shocked horror might have been comedic if it hadn't been so sincere. Her gaze narrowed. "Is this about Vanessa?"

"Vanessa?"

"Yes. Do think that by moving in with Vanessa's best friend you might somehow rekindle that … whatever it was you saw in her?" Blair smirked, disdain dripping from her words.

"Vanessa hasn't even stopped by since I moved in," Nate replied, shrugging. "And no, I didn't move in with Dan to get closer to her."

"Good," Blair nodded swiftly. "Last thing you need it her around."

"Vanessa wasn't so bad."

"She ruined your chance at your family being back together," Blair pointed out mercilessly. "Or did you forget?"

"Of course I didn't forget," he said, a little too sharply.

Blair studied him for a second. "Good. I always knew you could do better than that little Brooklyn bit—"

"OK," he cut her off with a smile. "I get it. You hate Vanessa."

"Damn right," Blair grumbled. She looked at him again, her gaze critical. "You seem happy, though."

He considered her words for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Well, that's good. I mean, after the whole Catherine-Marcus thing…"

"How are you doing with that?" he countered gently, not wanting to push too much.

She shrugged. "Fine now. I'm completely over him and his pedophile step-monster."

"Well, that's … good."

Blair squinted at him. "You're sure you're happy at casa de Humphrey?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he said with a smile. "Mr. Humphrey's great, Dan's a great friend, and so is Jenny."

"And how is the mini fashionista since she quit my mom's?"

Nate chose his words carefully. "She seems good."

Blair clucked her tongue and sighed. "I'm glad she quit. Jenny deserved better."

Nate almost fell over. Blair defending Jenny? "Why's that?" he asked blandly, going for nonchalance.

"Jenny created that dress at fashion week my mom took credit for. It was a great dress, and Jenny saved the show, but you should've seen the way my mom ripped into her … Even Little J deserved better than that. She's got some talent, you know. Talent my mom was completely exploiting."

He nodded slowly. Jenny had never gone into the specifics about why she had left so abruptly, but it made more sense now. She had mentioned Eleanor using her designs, but he never imaged it went as far as this.

Blair dug her phone out of her purse as it chirped loudly, alerting her to a new text message. She flipped the phone open and groaned. "Dammit!"

"What?"

"The DJ I had tentatively set up cancelled. Something about his sister getting married … People's priorities are so messed up anymore," she muttered angrily. "I need to go." She lifted her arm to hail a taxi.

"OK," Nate said, hiding a grin.

"I'll talk to you later, Archibald," she said, opening the door of the cab before it had stopped. She jumped in before Nate could even reply and was gone.