A Lowcountry Bride by Preslaysa Williams

Maya was released from the ER on Saturday afternoon, and she spent the rest of the weekend resting. Well, she rested after calling her father to tell him what happened. He was worried, but she told him she was okay—for now.

She didn’t call Derek, unsure of how he’d react to her stint in the hospital. Maya didn’t want him to overreact. Maya would figure out how to tell him after she got the Laura issue out of the way.

Maya typed and printed her resignation letter to Laura Whitcomb. She no longer wavered on her decision to leave her job. She wrote that letter with 100 percent certainty.

Once Monday came, she was ready to hand in her resignation. Maya took a deep breath as she stepped off the elevator and made her way to Laura’s office. She’d rehearsed the conversation a thousand times over in her mind. So much so that her speech was automatic.

Laura’s door was half-open, which signaled that she was open to visitors. A closed door meant don’t even try stepping inside. Maya had learned that the hard way when she’d naively stepped into Laura’s office during her first week as a junior designer. Laura had screamed her head off. Maya had been so embarrassed.

Maya stared at the half-open door. “Here goes nothing.” She knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Maya’s heart fluttered, but she stepped inside. Laura did a double take.

“Maya! I’ve been trying to contact you all weekend. You had that conference call and Fernando told me you were a no-show. What happened?”

Stress from my last conversation with you happened.“I had a minor emergency.”

Laura waved at Maya like she was an irritating fly. “Minor or major emergency, Maya, you have to check in. You’re the head designer. You’re my right-hand woman. I can’t have you flaking out on me.”

Laura was already taking ownership of Maya. “I need to talk with you.”

“I need to talk to you. First thing, HR called me. They said you haven’t signed your paperwork yet. It’s a simple signature.”

Did Laura not hear that Maya had an emergency? Was Laura that selfish? Obviously. “I was in the hospital,” Maya said, forcing herself to sound civil.

“The hospital?!”

Maya nodded.

“Hope you’re feeling better. Anyway, we need to reschedule that conference call,” Laura said, raising an eyebrow.

Maya exhaled. Laura didn’t care one way or another.

“Fernando wants to prep for the fall season, and he wants a brainstorming session,” Laura continued. “I think your design style will make a big splash at Fashion Week.”

Fashion Week? The Fashion Week? “My clothes would be on the runway there?”

“Of course, they would.” Laura smiled. “What did you think would happen as my new head designer?”

Fashion Week would be even bigger than the publicity she garnered from Heather Gates’s wedding. Every major media outlet would be there covering the event.

“I also want you to be my spokesperson at Fashion Week. Talk to the media. Be the face of the company.”

This was her chance. Her opportunity. Maya looked down at the resignation letter in her hand. It suddenly felt like a lead weight. Did she really want to hand this in? Maybe she could wait until after Fashion Week. That way she could take all of that publicity buzz with her into her new endeavor.

That pull toward ambition was strong. It didn’t want to let her go, so Maya would have to cut the cord. Maya had to let go of this job. “I want to give you this.” She handed over the letter. “I’m resigning.”

Laura stared at the letter as if it had a contagious disease. “And this is your notice?”

“Yes.”

Laura took it from Maya’s hand so quickly that it could’ve been seen as a snatch. Okay, it was a snatch. Laura Whitcomb snatched it out of her hand. Rude. Laura then squinted at the letter and sniffed in a snooty way. “Why are you resigning?”

“For creative differences.”

“You’re referring to our last conversation?”

“I am.”

“What are you going to do? I mean, you’ve worked so very hard here. You obviously love it. Are you quitting for good? Leaving the industry completely?”

Maya sighed. Don’t really want to tell her my plans, but she’s asking. “I’m not going to quit designing dresses. I’m going to go at it on my own in South Carolina.”

A half-smile, half-sneer colored her thin lips. “Is that so?”

Laura asked the question as if Maya didn’t have a choice. “Yes, that’s so.”

“Your designs are still mine. I own them.”

A coldness swept through Maya. “You do not. Those designs came from my mind, and they were created from my hands. Those designs belong to me. Besides, I’ve sent you my design ideas time and time again. You never accepted them. You only started paying positive attention to my work after Heather Gates’s wedding.” Maya stood her ground even though her insides shook.

“You made an agreement. Even if you leave, I will still be able to use the designs you created here for commercial purposes. It will be best for you to stay. I’ll get my lawyer to take you to court on it too.”

This woman was seriously trying to control her. “Do what you want, Laura. But one thing I know, everything I create from here on out is mine.”

Laura didn’t look too pleased, and quite frankly, Maya didn’t care.

“You’re going to relinquish everything you’ve created to this point?” Laura asked, her voice surprised.

Relinquish. Was Maya willing to relinquish everything? A flood of memories passed through her, and with those memories came every single negative feeling that was attached to them, but each memory also held hope. Hope was a tiny ember that her mother had ignited for her, all those years ago. The hope that, one day, Maya would be in the exact position where she now stood.

Now that Maya had arrived at this moment, her stomach soured. She inhaled and everything she’d felt—the fear, the self-doubt . . . and the courage—rose up in another wave.

“Maya?” Laura repeated. “You’re just going to relinquish everything?”

Every inch of Maya’s body screamed to relent and take back everything she just said to Laura. The old Maya fought for one last gasping breath, striving and straining for survival.

Instead, Maya let her old self go. “Yes, I am giving this up. If I have to start over, if I have to start from scratch, then I will.”

Laura’s posture stiffened. “Well, then.” She tossed the resignation letter aside and it floated to the corner of Laura’s desk. “Good luck to you.”

Maya left.

As soon as Maya stepped out of that office, a weight melted away. That burden to please Laura, that burden to be accepted by Laura—and all that Laura represented—disappeared. No longer would Maya be that insecure designer hoping to be validated by the likes of a Laura Whitcomb. No. Maya would simply be who she was, wherever she was, accepted or not.

Her eyes stung with tears of exhaustion and release. Claiming inner freedom was a beautiful thing.

Maya took the elevator down to the street level. Once she was in the lobby, she stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirrored walls.

She did it. She finally did it. Now it was time for her to come home. Maya reached in her purse for her cell phone and dialed her father’s number. He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Pops. It’s me.”

“How are you doing, baby girl? Something happen again?”

Maya then explained everything.

“Oh. Quitting is a big deal. You’re coming home after all.” A few seconds of silence ensued. “I’m proud of you. Very proud.”

“Thanks, Pops. I was thinking that maybe I’d stop by Always a Bride and see Derek. I might take him up on his offer if it’s still on the table.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know. It may not be on the table anymore. We’ll see.”

“I heard that Derek was thinking of selling the store.”

Her pulse stopped. “What?”

“I haven’t confirmed for sure, but that’s what I heard.”

Maya groaned. “If he sells the store, then it would be all my fault. I shouldn’t have left Charleston in the first place. I should’ve stayed put.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Easier said than done. She’d really have to start from scratch. Maya would have to find another store to showcase her designs. She’d have to find another person who believed in her as a designer. On top of that, she’d have to deal with the fact that her decisions could’ve led Derek to give up his family business. If Derek sold the boutique, she’d never live it down.