A/N: Sorry for the delay! Between work and wedding stuff, it's been really hectic around here. All the usual stuff about not owning the BSC applies. Here ya go
Chapter 4: Stacey"Well, let's see, where shall I begin?" I asked my audience.
"We know you went to NYU, was Mary Anne's roommate, and graduated with a degree in fashion design," said Claudia. "Okay," I said. "I guess I'll start with my first job." Everyone looked mildly interested, even though Dawn kept sneaking glances at Mary Anne's photo album. "During my junior year, I started working at Bloomingdale's for extra money and experience. I had a great time, especially since I was assigned to the juniors department. I could help young girls with their fashion; it was a perfect mix!"
"After graduation, I stayed on at Bloomie's while I looked for a job. One morning in early November, as we were getting the Christmas displays ready to go, our floor manager came rushing into the stockroom. As we all looked up curiously, he made an exciting announcement. 'Adrian Santella is coming! He's coming in three days! Hurry up with the holiday displays! I want this store perfect!' We all stared at him in disbelief. Adrian Santella was coming to-"
"Who on earth is Adrian Santella?" Kristy cut in.
"Only the most fabulous designer since Dolce & Gabana!" I shot back. "Anyway, the store was in a frenzy of excitement. Since I had managed to work my way up to the manager of the juniors department, it fell on me to come up with a display for his 'Young & Younique' line. I spent the better part of the next forty-eight hours slaving over my project. I stayed up late and got up early, redoing parts of it over. I was determined to have the best display Adrian Santella had ever seen.
Finally, the morning of Adrian's visit arrived. Our store manager, Mr. Samarin, escorted him through the store. When he got to my department, he quietly looked around, stopping to examine my display. I held my breath, waiting for the verdict. He looked at our manager and said, 'Who is responsible for this display?' My heart sank. He hated the lights and the mannequins and everything. I could just tell. Mr. Samarin said, 'Stacey McGill, one of our fine young department managers. She does all the displays in the juniors department.' Adrian looked at me and said, 'Ms. McGill, this is one of the finest display I have ever seen for one of my lines. Tell me, do you have much experience in the fashion world?' I gulped, trying to compose myself, since my heart had decided to relocate in my throat. 'Yes, Mr. Santella,' I replied. 'I graduated in May from NYU.' He beamed at me and asked, 'Have you had any luck getting in one of the design houses?' 'No, sir, I've submit resumes, but I've only been out of school for a few months. I'm happy here at Bloomingdale's right now, but I'd love to have my own boutique someday.'
Mr. Samarin smiled at me and turned to Adrian. 'Mr. Santella, Stacey has a lot of great ideas and when she finally gets her big break, her name will be right up there with yours.' 'Well, if her displays are any indication, she has a fine career ahead of her. Ms. McGill, are you perhaps free for dinner this evening?' he asked me. I tried not to stammer as I replied, 'Yes, Mr. Santella, I am.' 'Excellent,' he said, 'and please, call me Adrian. Mr. Santella is my father. Let's meet at Tavern on the Green. I love the view of Central Park. Oh, and don't forget your portfolio. I'd love to see what you've done.' As I fought to keep myself from floating up to the ceiling, Adrian turned to Mr. Samarin. 'Chuck, I'm ready to see the rest of the store now, shall we?' He followed my boss to the escalator. 'Until seven, Ms. McGill!' he called back to me.
As the salesclerks scurried off to either spread the news or to wait on customers, I made my way into the bathroom. I was shaking so badly I could barely stand. Dinner with Adrian Santella! This could be my moment! I somehow managed to get through the rest of the day. My coworkers kept coming up to me all day, offering their congratulations. I hurried home at five on the dot, my mind already racing through my extensive wardrobe.
When I got in the door, I headed straight for the spare bedroom, which I refer to as my 'walk-in closet.' I admit, I didn't want my dad to help me pay for my apartment, but I enjoy having a spare room. I considered dozens of outfits before I settled on a black velvet dress, simple, silver jewelry, and some strappy heels. I wanted to look professional. With my outfit ready, I jumped in the tub to relax for a few minutes. After I got out, I did some understated make-up and styled my hair in a French twist.
When I arrived at the restaurant, the maitre 'd told me that Adrian was in the bar. I went in and found him enjoying a glass of white wine. 'Care for a drink, Stacey?' he asked. 'Um, no, I can't. I have diabetes,' I explained. 'Oh, well, some sparkling water then?' I accepted and we chatted companionably while we waited for a table. He asked about my disease and told me he donated regularly to the American Diabetes Association in honor of his mother. After we were shown to our table, the easy conversation continued right through dessert. Our waiter brought coffee and fruit, and then the talk turned to business.
As I nervously twisted my napkin in my lap, Adrian studied my portfolio. He didn't say anything, just made a few noises under his breath. When he was finished, he looked up at me and said, 'Stacey, I'm quite impressed. For such a young designer, you certainly have a lot of raw talent. You said today you were happy at Bloomie's, but would you consider joining my company? You'd work under the Adrian Santella label, but you'd certainly get credit for your work. My name is quite well known in the fashion world, you'd be well on your way to your own lines and your own company if you became on of my designers.'
I was utterly speechless. Me? Work for one of the most prominent fashionistas? As I groped in my memory to find the right words, I managed to find my tongue. 'Mr. Santella, Adrian, I would be honored to be part of your company. I've admired your work and I've always wanted to have a hand in setting the style for young women. I accept a thousand times over.' Adrian's face broke out into a grin. 'Well, I'm happy to help you establish your dream. Now, let's set up a time when I can show you around the offices.'
From then on, my career took off. Two years ago, I was able to launch my own boutique. Fantasia by Anastasia is one of the top-grossing lines for young women. My life isn't all work though. You all know about Cooper, of course. My handsome, successful neurosurgeon husband who I met at a diabetes awareness benefit. Can you believe we've been married for four years and the twins are a year old already?" I got up to share my photo album.
As pictures of Lily and Mia began circulating, Mallory asked "Any plans for more babies?" I cleared my throat. "I don't know. With the girls being early from the complications, the doctors don't want me to try and carry my own again. They are concerned with me having diabetes for so long, but there are other options. Right now, I have another kind of 'baby' in the works." As they all looked up with interest, I announced my good news. "We just launched a non-profit organization to help couples who are unable to have their own children due to diabetes complications. Many insurance plans don't cover infertility treatments, so we try to help with financing treatments, procedures, and travel costs. For some couples, infertility treatments are impossible, to we help with the costs of trying to adopt. Cooper and I are so blessed to have had our own babies naturally, but we want to help other couples who aren't as lucky."
"Wow, Stace, that's a wonderful thing to do," Claudia said.
"Where can I make a donation?" Jessi said.
Mary Anne didn't say a word, but just hugged me, trying not to cry on my silk blouse. As they all chattered about the charity, I excused myself to check my insulin. I slipped into the bathroom, struggling not to cry. I couldn't tell them that the reason we started "A Chance for a Child" was because after I had my precious daughters, my doctors had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. Losing the battle for my composure, I sat down on the edge of the bathtub and cried.