Chapter 221
Not wanting their concern, he hid his illness. “Just enjoying the holiday,” he claimed, “resting at home, handling some personal matters.”
On the fifth day, a call came.
A luxury brand studio inquired if he was Mr. Maynard. Lucille’s custom–made autumn collection, ordered months pri- or, was ready. When might they deliver or mail it? Final adjustments needed confirmation.
Lucille had always managed Cedrick’s wardrobe–mostly bespoke pieces from select ateliers, supplemented by de- signer ready–to–wear. He’d never probed the details, only funded it.
“The studio assistant explained, “We couldn’t reach Lucille–calls unanswered, WhatsApp messages ignored. She list- ed your number as backup, so we’ve presumed to bother you.”
“Men’s or women’s?”
Cedrick asked.
“Both.
Lucille placed the order early this year. Production just wrapped up.”
Cedrick checked the time. Magraica should still be nighttime; Lucille would be asleep. “I’ll come by now to review them.”
Perfect timing–he’d been bedridden four days.
“Shall I text the boutique address?”
“Please.”
He rose to change.
Forty minutes later, he arrived.
The assistant displayed all garments. Cedrick noted seven or eight sets–nearly all his. Only one piece belonged to Lucille.
Smiling, the assistant remarked, “Lucille always prioritizes your orders. Rarely hers.”
Cedrick nodded as the assistant helped him try a jacket.
“Why didn’t you have me try these before?”
he questioned.
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“Lucille mentioned your busy schedule. We’d deliver to your home where she’d have you try them privately. She’d then relay any adjustments needed. With her unreachable this time, we hesitated to impose by delivering unan- nounced.”
The jacket settled perfectly on his shoulders. “Fits flawlessly,” the assistant beamed. “Truthfully, Lucille never re- quested alterations. She really knows you so well–first drafts always perfect.”
Cedrick froze abruptly.
Memories surfaced: those times each year when Lucille would ask him to try clothes.
But he never tried any on, always saying whatever, no time, too busy…
How could he tell this assistant that it wasn’t about needing alterations, but that he’d never actually tried anything on…
Though, truth be told, nothing ever fit poorly.
“What?
Is something unsatisfactory, sir?”
The assistant asked.
“No.”
He shook his head, turning left and right. Perfect fit.
“There are a few more sets…” The assistant moved to fetch others.
“Unnecessary. Just pack them up; I’ll take them back.”
He took off the jacket, but its sleeve caught on the shirt’s cufflink.
“Let me.”
The assistant hurriedly offered.
Once the jacket was off, Cedrick noticed the cufflinks were sapphire – two stones of exceptional quality and cut.
“The cufflinks are rather unique.”
He remarked.
The assistant smiled. “Ms. Radford has excellent taste. We even wanted to collaborate, asking her to license the cuff- link designs to us. She refused.”
Cedrick frowned slightly. “What did you say?
Her cufflink designs?”
“Yes.”
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The assistant chuckled. “All the cufflinks for your clothes are designed by Ms. Radford herself. The sapphires on this shirt, and here are two other sets: one with pinkish–purple diamonds, another with yellow diamonds. A customer once fancied these yellow diamond ones, insisted on using them. How could that be? They were designed by Ms. Radford specifically for this shirt. She said these are called Starry Osmanthus.”
Cedrick looked at the Starry Osmanthus pair and suddenly understood the name.
Most of his cufflinks were platinum with gemstones or diamonds. These yellow diamonds used gold.
He even recognized the goldwork technique – filigree work, because Maricela had been obsessed with antique gold jewelry recently.
Gold filigree formed a tiny five–petal flower shape, encasing the golden diamond. Exquisitely delicate, even the clasp on the back was a cluster of small flowering blossoms.
“By the way,”
the assistant added, “Ms. Radford’s gown was designed to match this Starry Osmanthus set. See?”

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