The woman gently parted the curtains to announce their arrival. Stella and Weston stood just outside, waiting quietly. A deep voice came from inside, muffled but clear. “Let him wait for a bit. I still have some unfinished business.”
The woman dropped the curtain and looked at Weston apologetically. “Mr. Kennedy is still occupied. I’m afraid you may have to wait for a while.”
She was in charge of greeting guests, and though she understood the artist’s temperament, she knew well that they couldn’t afford to make someone like Weston wait too long. Even Mr. Kennedy, eccentric as he was, had to lower his standards in the face of power and wealth. Weston, however, was unbothered. He glanced at Stella and asked, “Do you want to take a walk?”
Noticing that Weston was primarily focused on Stella, the woman spoke to her, trying to redirect her attention. “Ms. Steele, I noticed you admired my dress earlier. Mr. Kennedy collects different designs of dresses. Would you like to take a look?”
Stella’s interest was immediately piqued. She nodded eagerly. Seeing her enthusiasm, Weston gave a small nod, allowing her to explore. The woman, sensing an opportunity to keep Stella entertained, focused all her attention on her. If Stella was happy, Weston would likely stay preoccupied with her and wouldn’t mind the wait.
“Are all these instruments made by Mr. Kennedy?” Stella asked, her voice filled with awe as she examined the wall lined with beautifully crafted musical instruments.
“Not just Mr. Kennedy,” the woman explained with a smile. “The apprentices make them too. You can see their names on the wall. Some have already mastered their craft, while others are still learning. There are no rigid standards here. If you think your work is good enough, you share it. But others may criticize it if they believe it’s not worthy.”
Stella’s eyes lingered on the instruments, impressed by the skill and dedication required to create each piece. She was deeply moved by the atmosphere. It had been a long time since Weston had seen her so engaged and satisfied.
“This is the dress section,” the woman continued, guiding her into a new room. “Many female celebrities have their dresses tailored here.”
She gestured to the dresses hanging on display. “Our brand is unique in that it’s entirely based on chance. Several individuals wanted to wear these dresses on the runway soon after Mr. Kennedy created them. But he wasn’t concerned with fame or prestige. In the end, this dress was worn by actress Guinevere.”
The woman’s voice faltered slightly as she mentioned Guinevere’s name, her eyes flicking to Stella. Realizing her slip, she quickly added, “There are other dresses as well. You might want to have a look at those.”
Stella’s smile faded, and she fell silent, her expression becoming unreadable. The mention of Guinevere had clearly struck a nerve, and the woman, though quiet, seemed to sense the tension. She had likely recognized Stella’s identity. After all, how could anyone not know the partner of Weston Ford, and the famous Guinevere?
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