Color of Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

sake. Gail had a plan for herself, and tonight’s event was only a step in the right direction toward reaching her goals.
    Leah recognized that while her sister was sometimes resentful of how Seventh Avenue operated, it was only because she herself wasn’t yet in charge. What she wanted was a line of designer clothes all her own, of course. Leah envied her sister her single-mindedness and dedication to purpose: making a name for herself in fashion and pots of money along the way. Any offers of help were greedily accepted, but Gail had no time for anyone who wasn’t in a position to do her some good, who could help her dreams come true.
    “I learned a lesson from those little white girls at college,” she constantly lectured. “And that’s how to position yourself to meet the right people and take advantage of the right opportunities. Seventh Avenue is going to know who I am in three to five years’ time.”
    Leah understood. Time tables were very useful if everything went according to schedule. So far Gail was certainly doing okay, but it had taken longer than “three to five years.” Out of school and into a marketing program at one of Manhattan’s top stores, putting in time as assistant buyer in children’s wear, then transferring to the Executive Training Division to add a little polish and business know-how. Finally winning a foothold in the exclusive group of people responsible for the high-priced boutiques and special lines at the store.
    Leah couldn’t help smiling. And feeling proud. Both of their wardrobes were filled with her sister’s creations. Gail had designed the event for this evening, complete with props, such as cactus plants and wooden fences, ropes and cookout gear, a saddle, Stetson hats, and even the dried white shell of a Texas longhorn steer had to be located and displayed. The invitations had read, “don’t forget your spurs,” and Gail expected to see lots of tooled leather calf boots and fringed vests.
    Leah arrived home from work to find Gail fussing to make her hair look both western and New York chic. Whatever that meant, Gail’s thick nape-length hair would not cooperate. She settled on combing it straight back and behind her ears, which allowed her to don a Stetson. When she was finished dressing, she was wearing rust-colored suede jeans with a cream silk blouse, elaborately stitched red boots, and an expression that said this new trend was not her idea of fashion. But if anyone could carry it off, it was Gail. Still, she had no intention of being the target of snide comments or looks of amusement. She arranged for a car service to take her into Manhattan to the store.
    When Allen called for Leah, she was similarly dressed, and she felt equally as silly. Allen was far less sanguine. From the moment he entered the house he did nothing but complain.
    “Woman is out of her mind,” he muttered, although dressed pretty inconspicuously in jeans and a simple white western shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons.
    “Allen, you look great,” Leah reassured him, and she meant it. He was a handsome man.
    Leah had always been impressed and moved by Allen’s physical presence. You couldn’t help but notice him. He was tall and broad-shouldered and carried himself straight, with a nearly imperial bearing. His hair was always neatly cut, with a thick and soft curl. His heavy mustache was the same, and he wore tortoise-shell glasses that gave him an air of intelligence and command. He was thoroughly masculine, Leah didn’t deny, but she’d long ago observed that Allen had a tendency toward churlishness and lacked a sympathetic nature.
    She could see that he’d drawn the line at cowboy boots. They really weren’t his style. Allen’s only concession to the theme Gail was promoting was a leather belt with a huge silver buckle in the shape of a horse’s head. He was simply coordinated and the casualness of his clothing made him seem less restrained than he normally was.
    “Maybe it