Two weeks after finalizing the specifics, sizes, final selection of fabric, the works and sending out the designs of Beauty Aquamore's first partnered line of clothing (twelve dresses worked half and half by Marcia and Jacklyn) Marcia's pedestal, where she felt comfortable high above the ants scurrying about below, rose to sit to the side of Jacklyn's own pedestal when she received an invite to the Worth Reception, a celebration held annually at the end of November in honor of Charles Fredrick Worth at a different location. The invite had come in the form of an email from Jacklyn herself while she had been sitting at her desk, the Barringer F&D logo in the corner of the attachment, and reading over the email, Marcia broke out in a fit of giggles she couldn't contain the excitement building with each word she read. You, Marcia Mirabella, are cordially invited to the Worth Reception, and as Marcia ran her eyes over the words, she sat frozen. The Worth Reception was like Comic-Con to the dedicated fans. Like the X-Games or the Olympics to sports enthusiasts. Only the biggest of names in fashion, Calvin Klein, Carolina Herrera, the goodfellas of the fashion industry, were invited, and now Marcia was on that list. Marcia was part of that crowd, was a wise-guy in the Mafia sense of the word, and she just had to tell someone, anyone, even if it was the very same person who sent the invitation. So, with the agility of a snake jabbing forward to sink its teeth into thick meaty flesh, Marcia's hand was pulling the phone from the receiver.

"Jackie," Marcia was speaking just before Jacklyn even answered, and she had only caught half of what her newfound friend was saying, "Reception. I can't believe it."

"One more time Marcia," said Jacklyn, a smile across her lips as she closed the planner lying open on the desk in front of her, "I didn't quite catch that."

"I was invited to the Worth Reception," Marcia didn't even care that Jacklyn was the one who sent her the invite and already knew this golden bit of information, she just had to say it out loud, "I finally got in. I can't believe it!"

Jacklyn chuckled, a soft, sweet sound, "I know, I was the one who got your name on the list."

"Thank you Jackie. I can't tell you how much this means to me. To see the Worth Reception in person and not just read about it the following Monday is something I've always wanted to do."

"You're welcome," Jacklyn was holding back another chuckle, the excitement in Marcia's voice was seeping through from the opposite end of the line, and Jacklyn couldn't help but be overcome by the warmth of joy.

"Where's it being held this year?"

"Rustborrow Inn and Spa, it's in Mount Airy, North Carolina. Some of the reviews I've read said it was more luxurious than the Four Seasons. Supposed to have a great atmosphere too."

"Sounds amazing. Mind if I fly out with you?"

"Of course, I was going to see if you wanted to share a room. Much easier to stick together then."

"You don't have to do all that."

"I'd rather share a room with you than stay in one alone. I tend to freak out easy."

Six months ago, Marcia had only been able to look up to Jacklyn, far from where her throne sat, and next week she would be sharing a hotel room with her. Side by side with the woman who had once been her hero, and still, she had no idea just how much her life had changed. She only knew that the Worth Reception was a sight she had only seen in her dreams and in photographs. To take in everything that had happened over the last six months, the bond she had formed, partnering with another company for the first time, she felt as overwhelmed as she had when Billy Bellamy had sat at the long table where Marcia built her kingdom. It was just too much.

"Marcia," said Jacklyn, feeling slight concern over the silence from Marcia's end, "are you there?"

Marcia snapped back to reality, back to Jacklyn and the invite, "I would love to share a room with you then."

"Great," Jacklyn's voice came through as a shrill shriek, "I'll call you with more details as soon as I know who we're flying with."

"Time and place Jackie, and I'll be there. Talk to you soon."

"Back at you."

Marcia set the phone back on the receiver. A heavy weight on her shoulders, and for the first time in a long time, maybe even ever, she wasn't worrying about what others would say about the scars. She felt truly beautiful. Felt as if people would finally be able to see past those marks.

***

The flight to North Carolina had been terrible. Security at the airport alone had nearly been like close quarter combat in brutal warfare. The soon-to-be passengers bringing their suitcases and frustration to the table while the TSA had their metal detectors and power of authority. Vacationing families, traveling cogs of the modern business world, lonely plane hoppers going place to place, and everything in between. It had been absolute chaos. Total terror for those involved, and even though Marcia had been right in the middle of it, Jacklyn by her side every step of the way, all she had been able to think about was the Worth Reception. Rustborrow Inn and Spa, and the pictures Jacklyn had showed her on the cab ride over. Still, outside the fantasy soon to become a reality, Marcia saw the chaos, the growing possibility of a mental breakdown in each face around her, and after forty-five minutes of standing on sore feet in the hot air of anger, of stress, they boarded the plane. A two hour flight that turned into three because of a delay in the flight path due to weather conditions, and the entire hour sitting in the runway, passengers grew more ornery by the second. Most standing from their seats shouting vulgar insults to the flight attendants. A handful asleep with a sleep-mask, and large retro-like headphones over their ears. It was worse than getting through TSA and the brutal battle they had undertaken, and when they had finally taken flight, twenty-thousand feet and going fast, butterflies began to swoop and whirl in Marcia's stomach. Butterflies that swooped and whirled with more intensity as they neared North Carolina. The lights of Raleigh Regional Airport little more than bright orbs against the backdrop of darkness, and after breaking free from a second battle, after snapping the chains TSA used to reign in what was usually jet-lagged passengers, Marcia and Jacklyn caught a bus to Mount Airy.

For most people, after going through TSA twice, after an hour delay in their flight and a forty-five minute ride on a Greyhound, even something as grand and luxuriant as Rustborrow Inn and Spa wouldn't make up for it. For Marcia, who was still trying to determine if all of this was a dream or reality, the Spa, the Worth Reception, was more than enough to make up for it, two hours to midnight, after a nap accompanied by the rumble of a bus engine, they were finally able to see the Rustborrow Inn and Spa in all of its glory firsthand. The sweet and somehow pungent at the same time scent of heated water constantly churned by jets reached their noses. Thick and heavy was the scent of the surrounding trees, and as Marcia stepped off the bus, she gawked at the crowd of fashion designers moving across the parking lot to the Old Edwards. There was Calvin Klein, Carolina Herrera, Tom Ford, Donna Karan and many more. They were the foundation of modern fashion design, the Gods of Olympus, and Marcia was here among them. Calvin Klein even passed within a few inches of her, and as she felt her legs going numb, as she felt her stomach hurl inward on itself, as she felt the burning warmth of eyes on the scars, Jacklyn stepped up by her side. Bringing with her a sudden burst of confidence that devastated the flood-gates and spilled over into Marcia. Began to pound in her heart, and as Marcia looked over the crowd a second time, she didn't see Marc Jacobs, or Stella McCartney, or any of the others like Klein or Herrera, she saw people just like her. People that put their pants on one leg at a time just like her, and as Jacklyn began to move forward, Marcia did to. Her legs now strong and carrying her along in a smooth gait. The tumble her stomach had taken moments ago now behind her, and she wasn't timid as she moved amongst the upper-class of fashion design. She was smiling. She was bold and confident with gratitude towards Jacklyn, and above all else, that warmth, those burning eyes she had felt since she stepped off the bus, faded. Was replaced with courage and strength that was replaced with joy and excitement as she stepped into large, open lobby of the Rustborrow crowded with fashion designers.

The Worth Reception was always over the weekend, and it could be quite difficult sometimes to predict how that weekend would go. Nine times out of ten, the celebration is fairly uneventful. Maybe a drunken scene with the crashing table, shouting drunkard, and shattering glass, and all that goes along with that. Maybe a small debate that turns into a fight after moving past the point of an argument. Some spilled drinks here and there, and other times, like in 2008 when the lists of guests had caused over ten thousand dollars in damages to the Four Seasons in Washington DC, the Reception could get out of control. Another one of these times had been in 2013, the year after the so-called Mayan Apocalypse, when twenty-two guests, Jacklyn among the group, had been arrested for breaking into a small theatre to put on a runway show of their own. Each and every one had been charged with vandalism and breaking and entering, and fined six hundred and seventy-two dollars. In all reality, the weekend could go either way, and after checking in, after finding their room, a room with two canopy beds, a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall, and scented soap in the bathroom, Marcia was hoping for the latter. She felt a crazy weekend fit with booze, drunken friends, and maybe a little bit of crime, was exactly what she needed.

"We'll all be gathering tomorrow morning for breakfast," said Jacklyn as she plopped down on the bed with a schedule for the Worth Reception pulled up on her phone, "at nine. Then the day is ours until seven thirty when we eat dinner."

"What do you want to do until then," asked Marcia as she began unpacking, the night sky meeting with a green horizon of trees out the window.

"Sleep of course," Jacklyn chuckled through a yawn as she began unpacking herself, "after that and breakfast, we can do whatever you want to do as long as we find ourselves in one of those spas at some point before dinner."

"Alright. Don't hate me if we just hang out in the room then."

Marcia looked over to Jacklyn after about a minute of silence, and saw she was asleep. A yawn now escaping her lips, and after hastily unpacking the rest of everything she had hauled along, she flopped down to the mattress. Soft and comfortable against her stiff, aching back, and as she lay, she thought about how truly amazing all this was. The Worth Reception. Rustborrow Inn and Spa. Side by side with Jacklyn every step of the way, and it was these thoughts that Marcia was lost in when she was taken hold of by the claws of sleep.

***

Marcia stirred from a sea of dreams to the low sound of running water, and as she realized the Worth Reception, Rustborrow Inn was reality rather than dream, she bolted upright with the same kind of excitement that may radiate from a child on Christmas morning. In seconds, she was swinging her feet to the floor, and as she stood, that low sound of water stopped.

"Breakfast in twenty," said Jacklyn as she came from the bathroom, a towel around her body from waist to chest and a second towel around her hair as well, "better get going."

"Mind if I just skip it," asked Marcia, her voice sluggish and tired, "meet up with you after?"

"You can't do that. You have to meet a couple of friends of mine, and they need to meet you."

Marcia groaned, a groan of frustration in complete contradiction with the smile on her face, "just let me shower and get ready. I'll meet you down there."

"Sure thing," Jacklyn turned to face Marcia as she pulled the towel from her hair, "before I forget, it's outside at the back of the building. They set it up just for us."

"Got it."

Jacklyn began to get ready as Marcia disappeared behind the bathroom door. Throwing on a black V neck t-shirt and a pair of black dress pants to go along with the black high heels she slipped on. She doubled checked her appearance and left the bedroom. Five minutes later, after a hasty shower, Marcia came out of the bathroom. Towel placement identical to Jacklyn's, and after taking a quick glance at the time, realizing she would be running late, she started to dress. A back t-shirt, soft cotton, and dark blue jeans, slim-fit, to go with a pair of black shoes. She pulled her hair, damp and cold against the back of her neck, into a ponytail, and looked over her reflection in the mirror over the dresser before leaving the room.

Marcia had been in a number of five-star hotels. Had walked numerous halls lined with endless doors. Luxuriant places, some that had gold-flaked trim around the windows, doors, and mirrors, others where the carpets were red, where the bathroom alone was significantly larger than master bedrooms in most homes, and never once had she ever gotten lost. Never once had she found herself wandering through the halls, searching for her room or the dining room. Though, Marcia had never been to a place quite like Rustborrow, and lost, wandering the halls with no idea where she was going, was just the situation she was in. In marvel at the European style of the furniture. Of the walls, and the various stuffed heads of animals (ranging from deer to bear) sticking from mounts on those walls, and during that marvel, that amazement, she had forgotten where the breakfast was. She had also left her cellular back in the room. She had no way of telling what time it was other than a rough guess. No idea of how late she was actually running. No way of calling Jacklyn. She only hoped she would find the breakfast soon, and as she rounded the corner of the hall she was currently in, she saw a man approaching down the next hall. A tall, broad shouldered man with handsome, chiseled features, and mid-length brown hair brushed to the left. His gait was smooth, confident, and during the ten or eleven steps before their paths would cross, she built up the courage to ask for help. Perhaps that was why it had come as such a surprise to Marcia when he spoke first.

"Need help," asked the man.

"Huh," it was all Marcia could say in her current state of shock and surprise.

"You have that look of someone who's lost. Need any help getting wherever it is you're going?"

"Yes," Marcia was slightly jumpy when she spoke, "I'm here with the Worth Reception, trying to find my way to a breakfast. I think it's outside somewhere."

"You want to walk with me? I'm going to the same place."

"Really," what a coincidence, thought Marcia, "that would be great."

"Definitely. Name's James Conally."

"Marcia Mirabella."

The two of them started down the hall. Side by side, and deep in conversation. Marcia giving James the run-down on Beauty Aquamore and the Barringer deal. James telling Marcia of his company Conally Design, and Marcia couldn't help herself. She found she was absolutely lost in what James had to say. Lost in the air of magnetism that surrounded him, and above all else the way he seemed to see beyond the scars on her face. She hung on to each word he said. Was entranced by James the way one may be while watching an exciting, mind-blowing film, and before Marcia knew it, they were stepping out into the chill of the early morning air.

"See you around Marcia," said James, a smile on his lips, and disappeared from her side as Marcia looked over the breakfast. The same kind of gleam in her eyes that had been there when she wandered the halls before bumping into James.

There were about twenty tables. Each sitting four or five well into their meals of blueberry pan-cakes and biscuits and gravy, and Marcia scanned over the crowd. Looking for Jacklyn, and at the far side of the group from where she stood, was where Marcia saw her. She began to maneuver the tables like one may maneuver the crowd at an amusement park. One on the left where Carolina Herrera was sitting. Another on the right, a group four engaged in rapid conversation Marcia couldn't understand, and six other tables before taking a seat in the empty chair next to Jacklyn.

"What happened to you," asked Jacklyn with a smile as she gobbled down a bite of pan-cakes.

"I got lost," answer Marcia as she grabbed a plate, taking a quick glance at the other two across the table.

"Happen to just wander by here then?"

"No. Ran into someone and they walked with me."

"Who?"

"James Conally," Marcia's face blushed with bright red.

Jacklyn smiled at the color flooding Marcia's cheeks, "you can tell me all about that later. Anyways," Jacklyn turned towards the two across the table from Marcia and her, "this is Jeremy Stinger on the right, and Edward Brumner on the left. Really good friends of mine"

"Very nice to meet you," said Jeremy, who had dark, tanned skin and was slightly smaller than Edward, "Jacklyn's told us much about you."

"Very nice to meet you too," said Marcia, looking over to Edward, tall and slightly overweight, who sat still with a stern face.

"Don't worry about Edward there," said Jacklyn as she nudged Marcia with her elbow, "he's just sour over the line of boots he released not selling too well."

"Fucking shit if you ask me," snapped Edward, "who doesn't want a pair of warm boots for the winter?"

Jacklyn and Jeremy broke out in wild laughter. Eddie returning to that stern, sour look, and Marcia, completely unsure of where she stood in this group yet, began to eat with a slightly nervous hand. Her head down. Her heart pounding, and all the while, the breakfast continued with conversation underneath the constant cling of silverware against fine china. By the time it was nearly over, by the time a little over half the breakfast had returned to their rooms or whatever else they had planned today, Marcia set her empty plate aside with a full, heavy stomach.

***

Breakfast, asides from the nervous silence Marcia had chewed through, had been amazing. Fluffy blueberry pan-cakes drenched in syrup with squares of butter on top, and biscuits topped in thick, creamy sausage gravy. The food, the atmosphere, even the silence Marcia had been trapped in had fallen in line with it all somehow, and after their bellies were full, after they were among the handful of people remaining at the tables, , Marcia and Jacklyn returned to the room. Where they soon found themselves engaged in