Page 19 of Footprints in the Sand
Eva explained her job with the social media and the fashion brand. As she spoke, Aphrodite’s face transformed and tightened.
“You said you were working for Gretchen Collingsworth?” she asked, as though she couldn’t fathom it.
Eva felt proud. “That’s right. I applied for this job at least three times before I got it. It was a huge ordeal. But it’s where I always wanted to work, you know? If I have to work for a living, it might as well be for something I feel is artistic and worth my time.” It was one of the best and most creative fashion brands in the world, after all.
But Aphrodite was on her feet, waving her phone in the air. At first, Eva thought she was being terribly rude. Why couldn’t she sit down and listen? Was Eva really boring her that much?
Was this a strange Greek way of having a conversation—or not having one?
“What’s going on?” Eva asked, trying not to roll her eyes.
Aphrodite turned on her heel and looked down at Eva with surprise. “I don’t want to be the one who brings you the bad news.”
Suddenly frightened, Eva turned her attention to the horizon, where a sailboat careened beneath the sunlight. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone to the coves with Aphrodite after all. Aphrodite was Nico’s sister, but it wasn’t like Eva really needed to date anyone while she was here. It wasn’t like she needed to open her heart.
“Look,” Aphrodite said, shoving her phone into Eva’s hand.
Eva read the headline:
Fashion Designer Gretchen Collingsworth Arrested for Fraud
Eva was on her feet, gasping for air. In the attached photograph, Gretchen was pictured with her signature big sunglasses and her neck bent. The brief yet articulate articleexplained that Gretchen was one of the top fashion designers in the United Kingdom and was well on her way to securing a billion-dollar brand. But it turned out that as of this morning, she was under investigation for wire fraud. All of her bank accounts, including those associated with the fashion brand, had been frozen, and her website was now inactive.
Eva’s heart seized with panic. She couldn’t believe she was receiving this information here and now, in one of the most beautiful coves, as the Grecian sunlight played across the jewel-lit waves. With a shaking hand, she passed Aphrodite’s phone back to her and stumbled back onto her towel.
“Are you okay?” Aphrodite asked. “Do you want to go home?”
Home? At first, the word rattled her because it meant Martha’s Vineyard and her mother and Finn. But she blinked and realized that Aphrodite meant Dimitra’s house. She nodded and got up and followed Aphrodite up the little carved path through the rocks.
“Did you know this was going to happen?” Aphrodite asked as they drove back to Aliki. “I mean, was there any hint?”
“I’m just a social media manager,” Eva said dumbly. She was a social media manager. Did she even still have a job?
“Will you have to release a statement?” Aphrodite asked.
“I don’t know.” Eva couldn’t feel her tongue. A part of her wanted to believe that what had happened with Gretchen was a fluke. Gretchen would be released from prison tomorrow morning and want all the websites back up and running again. Perhaps Eva could devise a humorous social media strategy for this, something to enhance the brand.
Now that she had data again, Eva’s phone buzzed with about a thousand messages from colleagues, telling her to get online immediately. It had been the worst possible day to take a surprise afternoon off.
When Aphrodite dropped Eva off at Dimitra’s place, Eva tumbled out of the passenger seat and adjusted her backpack over her shoulder.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Aphrodite asked.
Eva said no, but Aphrodite cut the engine and got out anyway. “My mother always said to never leave someone alone in their time of need,” Aphrodite said. “I’m going to the grocery store, and I’ll cook you something nice. And we’re going to need more wine.”
Eva mumbled thanks and wandered into the cool air of the house. In the bathroom, she stripped down and showered off the sand, then put on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting shorts. Maybe there had been some mistake.
She took a breath and sat down at the computer.
Immediately, she was launched into a world of pain. There were more than two hundred thousand comments and DMs and updates from their audience, all of whom were turning on Gretchen’s brand.
They wroteI never would have bought Gretchen’s stuff if I’d known.
They wroteBoycott! Boycott!
It was a nightmare.
Suddenly, Eva’s boss, the head of marketing, was calling her via the online messaging service. Eva forgot she was wearing crappy clothes and had wet hair. She answered with the video on and found her boss in a similar sad shape, her eyes strange and glinting.
