Читать книгу Family By Design - Callie Endicott - Страница 14
ОглавлениеON TUESDAY, GEMMA woke early and contemplated how quickly the days were getting shorter. It was always that way in Washington—the long days of summer, shifting into the equally long nights of winter.
She turned over, thinking about being close to her family again...and wrinkled her nose.
Mr. Kessler—it was hard to think of him as Simon—had arranged for her to visit Washington every three months after they’d moved to New York, but after the first trip, she’d quickly found reasons not to go. She loved her parents, but it always felt as if they were looking past her to admire what her talented oldest brother was doing.
Drake looked like Adonis, had the social skills of a diplomat and was now a resident in cardiology at the University of Washington Medical Center. There seemed to be nothing he hadn’t accomplished and probably done better than anyone else. When she and her other brother were growing up and wanted to try something new, their parents would say, “Drake is so good at that, find your own special gift.” Once she’d been tempted to suggest fan dancing since she was reasonably certain it was one of the few things Drake hadn’t tried.
No wonder Mom and Dad were so proud of him. They claimed to be proud of her and Sully, too, but Gemma often wondered if they were being completely honest. Sully didn’t care. Dad’s moodiness while drinking hadn’t frightened him the way it had frightened her, though it was the reason they’d both been eager to get away from home.
Stop.
A deep sigh welled from Gemma’s chest. Her biggest problem was shyness and a lack of confidence. It was easy to be with kids. They didn’t judge, could throw themselves wholly into play and had wonderful imaginations. Studying childhood development and becoming a teacher had seemed an ideal fit, though the idea hadn’t impressed her family. Nor had her slow movement through college while they pointedly mentioned her brother’s breakneck academic successes.
So what about Rachel’s suggestion of doing voice work? She knew people were hired to do narration for things like cartoons, but it seemed improbable that she could be one of them.
A faint knock on the door caught Gemma’s attention, more a scratching than a knock.
“Come in, Livvie,” she called softly. Mr. Kessler slept poorly now that his wife was gone and she didn’t want to interrupt any rest he might be getting.
Livvie slipped inside and ran to the bed. “I had a bad dream. It made my tummy cold.”
“I’m sorry.” Gemma patted the pillow next to hers. “Maybe telling me about it will make you feel better.”
Hugging the pillow in her arms, Livvie began relating the nightmare. It was about an evil sorcerer who killed the queen and was trying to cast an evil spell on the king and send the princess into the forest to live with a witch who didn’t want her. There was a dragon who was actually a good dragon and a talking horse who could knock down walls, but the underlying theme was the same as in all of her dreams...the fear that her daddy would be taken away, just like her mother.
Yet a new element seemed to be emerging—Livvie was beginning to understand that she didn’t have anyone in the world except her father. However frustrating Gemma’s own childhood had been, she had an extended family—aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins—a great big safety net. But Livvie didn’t have anyone else except two grandparents who’d never made an effort to meet her.
“Maybe you should tell your daddy about your bad dreams,” Gemma suggested.
Livvie shook her head in a definitive no. “I don’t want to make Daddy sad. Promise you won’t tell.”
“I... Okay,” Gemma promised reluctantly.
She’d tried to suggest a grief counselor to Mr. Kessler, at least for Livvie, but maybe she hadn’t been forceful enough. Perhaps she should look for an opportunity to try again.
ON THURSDAY, RACHEL was startled when she found Simon Kessler’s name on her morning appointment calendar. The discussion she’d had with Gemma about doing voice work was a possible reason for it, though surely it wasn’t his business what an employee did on her off time. Or was there something personal going on between them?
At eleven, Chelsea brought Simon back to her office.
Rachel gestured to one of the chairs at the side of her desk. Even if her office had been larger, he would seem overpowering in it.
He sat and glanced around. “This is nice.”
“Thanks. Originally we envisioned a small agency with specialty clients, but we’ve expanded beyond that. We expect to hire more agents within the next two years.”
“I understand your blog is increasingly popular, both inside and outside the talent industry.”
Rachel’s senses went on higher alert. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t recall mentioning the name of the agency to Simon or Gemma. “I didn’t realize you knew anything about us.”
“I’ve been doing research on you.”
She narrowed her eyes. Often when somebody brought up research it meant they were digging into details of her past that she didn’t want disturbed. How had she felt lying under a piece of heavy equipment while rescuers figured out how to get it off without doing further damage? How had she felt when her husband walked out less than a year later? Was he obsessed with appearance, the way his ex-girlfriends claimed? Was he shallow? Did he leave because of her scars?
Rachel slowed her racing brain and focused.
“Why were you researching the agency?” she asked pleasantly, seeing no need to unload her emotional baggage on other people.
“Because of your comments the other evening about Liv’ing Creations. I mentioned the sales have slipped and you seem to have an insight into why.”
“Oh.” That hadn’t crossed Rachel’s mind as a possibility for Simon’s appointment. “I was simply speaking from the point of view of a customer.”
“But you have experience in the fashion industry. You’re a former model and your partners are connected to the business. Not to mention the fact that you’re still involved in supplying models for the fashion world.”
“Perhaps, but the agency is mostly regional. At the moment we don’t have any clients modeling in places like New York or Paris.” Rachel didn’t add that she’d once been Kevin’s most successful client and had modeled all over the world, for most of the major designers. Eventually Moonlight Ventures would have that kind of profile again; they’d already had some of their clients cast for Hollywood projects.
“Liv... Olivia...” Simon hesitated for a moment. “My wife didn’t want to be a clone of New York or Paris designers or of anyone else. She wanted to be unique and didn’t care if a famous actress arrived on the red carpet in one of her creations.”
“Yet you hired a designer from New York.”
“Only because I didn’t know where else to turn. Preserving the business for Livvie was desperately important to Olivia. It also connects Livvie to her mother. I have to keep Liv’ing Creations going for my daughter’s sake.”
It was a motivation that Rachel understood.
She didn’t know much about Simon, though one of the Carthage residents had mentioned he was a successful businessman. But wanting to save the design house for his daughter—when it would be easier to sell or close the operation down—must mean he also cared about intangibles.
“I admire your goal,” she said, “but I’m not sure what I can do to help. Are you trying to find models who might help turn things around?”
Simon sat forward in his chair. “Actually, I was hoping for your help in another way. I realize this isn’t what your agency generally deals with, but I thought you could help address the situation at Liv’ing Creations. As a consultant.”
Rachel didn’t know what to think, though it was flattering that Simon believed she could offer something useful.
“I’m not a designer,” she finally said. “I just shared a couple of comments. Why would you suddenly decide I might have answers your professional designer doesn’t?”
“Because I trust my instincts. I don’t know haute couture from a hole in the ground, but you might be able to recognize when a designer is creating styles that don’t jibe with what Olivia was doing. I asked Janine Jenkins to study her work and try to emulate it, but I’m not sure she’s done that.”
“There’s no guarantee I’d be successful,” Rachel said gently.
“Maybe, but I can’t tolerate the thought of Liv’ing Creations sliding into mediocrity.”
Rachel gazed out her window, organizing her thoughts. In a way, Simon’s idea was compatible with what Moonlight Ventures did—he wanted to hire talent. Besides, a number of young designers had come to the agency, hoping the partners’ experience in the fashion world would help get them jobs.
“Is that all you want, for me to assist you in identifying a designer with a more colorful, innovative flair?” she asked.
“I’d also appreciate your opinion on other aspects of the operation. Any ideas you could offer might help.”
Though Rachel sympathized, it seemed a big risk to offer advice on someone else’s company when she was almost completely new to business in the first place.
“Frankly, I’m not sure I want that kind of responsibility,” she said.
“The responsibility is mine. It will be my choice whether or not to agree with what you recommend.”
That made it slightly easier, but it was still a lot to consider.
“I’ve reviewed the agency’s blog and website,” he continued. “The goals of Moonlight Ventures seem clear—you want clients to perform at their best. Look at the design house in the same way.”
“I’ll need time to think about it,” she said. “But there’s something I want to say up front. You’re here because of the remarks I made the other night, yet you got uptight when I made them. Are you ready for serious input, or would it simply frustrate us both? I’m not talking about taking my every word as gospel, but genuine listening.”
A hot, dark emotion flickered in Simon’s eyes. “Of course I’ll listen. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow to discuss it further? We could also go by the design studio for you to look around.”
Being able to investigate behind the scenes sounded interesting. Rachel had seen designers at work before, but had always wondered if they kept certain aspects of their designs hidden until the finished product was unveiled.
“No promises about accepting you as a client,” she warned, “but I’d like to see the studio.”
“Shall I pick you up here, or would you rather go home to change?” he asked.
“Work clothes are fine. It isn’t a date.”
SIMON HADN’T EXPECTED Rachel’s calm, almost dismissive statement. He’d offered dinner without thinking, only to be immediately sorry in case she got the idea he had something in mind besides a professional arrangement. Truthfully, it had unsettled him to discover she’d picked up on his reaction to her observations of Liv’ing Creations. Either she was unusually perceptive, or he’d got sloppy about controlling his emotions.
“Is anything wrong?” Rachel asked. “You seem surprised about something.”
Simon searched through his mind for an appropriate response. “Since my wife died, a few women have been aggressive in assuming I must be interested in them. They would have tried to turn a business dinner into something else.”
Her lips twitched. “I thought that was a stereotype. You know, a widower being fair game.”
“I’m not saying all women, just enough to make me wary. I doubt I’ll ever get married again. It’s too big of a risk.” A risk in every possible way, he added silently. He’d been lucky to find Olivia and doubted that sort of good fortune could happen twice in a lifetime. Losing her had hurt more than he’d believed possible; if it hadn’t been for Livvie, he didn’t know what he would have done.
“You have my sympathy,” Rachel said. “Everyone except my closest friends seemed determined to match me up with a guy after my divorce, and I didn’t want to be matched. I’ve come to the very practical conclusion that friendship is better for me than romance, and it’s worked great that way ever since.”
If she was being genuine, then it was possible they could have a successful business relationship.
“All right, what time shall I be here tomorrow?” he asked.
“How about four? I’d prefer seeing the design studio first. That way we’ll have more to discuss over a meal.”
“That should work, because they close early on Fridays. I’ll be here.”
Simon left the agency, feeling encouraged. His decision to seek Rachel’s advice about Liv’ing Creations had been pragmatic and logical, despite his attraction to her. Under other circumstances he would have avoided her as much as he could. But the design shop was too important.
There was somebody else he could consult, as well. While waiting for coffee one morning, he’d met Mark Revel, who had a first-floor condo at the Carthage. Mark had mentioned owning a clothing store that had once carried Olivia’s designs. It was a reminder of how close the connections between people could be. Some people talked of six degrees of separation, but he often found it to be even fewer.
The downside of speaking with Mark was that Simon didn’t want it known that Liv’ing Creations was struggling. If the news got around it could just make things worse.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Simon arrived a few minutes before the agreed-upon time. The receptionist recognized him.
“Hello, Mr. Kessler. You can go directly back to Rachel’s office.”
“Thanks.”
As he walked down the wide hallway, a woman was coming from the opposite direction. He recognized Nicole George. She was almost as beautiful as Rachel, though in a different way. While Rachel was ethereally lovely, Nicole was taller and exuded vitality.
“You must be Simon Kessler,” she greeted him with a smile. “I’m Nicole George. Rachel told me about your interest in revitalizing Liv’ing Creations. I’m glad. Your wife was a wonderful designer.”
“Er, thanks.” Simon was faintly annoyed; the problems with Olivia’s studio were his business, not to be shared. But he hadn’t asked for confidentiality and it was natural Rachel would discuss the matter with a colleague. Besides, another opinion could be helpful.
Rachel’s door was ajar and she stepped out. “Hello, Simon. I see you’ve met one of my business partners. Nicole and I have been coming up with a list of new, young designers we know who might be worth exploring.”
“Excellent. Would you like to join us this evening?” he asked Nicole.
“Thanks, but I can’t. My fiancé and I are...uh, having a conference call with our parents about wedding plans.”
Little showed on her face, but Simon could tell it wasn’t something she expected to enjoy. He also noticed Rachel’s wince of sympathy, so figured there was a story behind the planned conversation. Or maybe not. He and Olivia had got married in Las Vegas, but he knew weddings could be stressful at the best of times.
Rachel locked her office and walked with him out to the parking lot. “I used alternate transportation this morning,” she explained. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind taking me back to the Carthage instead of returning here.”
“That’s sensible.”
He opened the door and she slid into the passenger seat.
“Your colleague seems nice,” he commented once he’d pulled out of the parking space.
“She is. I’ve been friends with Nicole, Logan and Adam for years.”
“So you decided to go into business together.”
Rachel shifted in her seat to look at him. “We were ready to make a change. For different reasons, I suppose, though we talked for a long time about starting a talent agency where we could pursue our individual interests.”
“And what are those?”
“While we all have clients, Adam edits the blog and is making plans for developing a literary division for the agency. Nicole’s specialty is teen talent, not only models, but actors and singers...that sort of thing. She recently placed a talented singer in a movie being shot up in Vancouver. Logan plans to work with both models and photographers.”
“How about you?” Simon glanced at her, admiring the way every movement Rachel made seemed graceful and alluring. With difficulty he banished the thought—this meeting was business and had nothing to do with male-female attraction.
“I’m especially interested in clients who don’t fit stereotypes of popular beauty, but have their own unique qualities.”
“Aren’t all advertisers looking for distinctiveness?” he asked, thinking it was ironic that a woman who looked like Rachel, and who was such a classic beauty, wanted to work with clients who were different in some way.
“Yes and no. There’s a tendency for one type to become popular and suddenly everyone wants a version of it. But in recent years there’s been an exploration of talent that’s broader in scope.” She laughed. “I should say a renewed exploration. It’s cyclic, like the antihero in film and television or literature. You go through a period where a certain type is popular, then people start wanting something new.”
It made sense. “Do the unique individuals get the big contracts?”
“Occasionally, though it’s less likely, especially in modeling. People can find it challenging to recognize nontraditional beauty or good looks. But it’s happening.”
“Surely representing that sort of client isn’t the most profitable choice for a talent agency.”
Rachel cocked her head. “Perhaps, but we want to develop talent, whether it fits a certain mold or not. I never had the impression Liv’ing Creations was trying to compete with the huge designers, either. You said yourself that your wife wasn’t interested in becoming a clone of other fashion houses. The same goes for Moonlight Ventures—we don’t want to be a clone of other agencies.”
Simon thought about his father’s scorn at Olivia’s lack of mega-aspirations. She’d laughed about it, unconcerned that her father-in-law had disapproved of her goals. “Liv used to say she wanted to fill a niche in the market, but didn’t care about being the market.”
“I would have liked your wife. It... Well, it must still be hard without her.”
He managed a nod. Most of the time he could think about Olivia without being overwhelmed with pain, but it wasn’t easy. “At least the pain no longer hits like an 18-wheeler the way it did at first.”
Rachel straightened and stared through the windshield; her face seemed sad. “I’m sorry you lost what you had together. You were fortunate to have found someone like that.”
“Thank you.”
Strangely, for all the urging to “buck up,” the platitudes and the sentimentality that had been poured over him, Rachel’s quiet comment meant the most. Perhaps it came at the right moment, reminding him he had been fortunate. His life with Olivia hadn’t been perfect, but perfection was overrated. They’d been in love and had enjoyed nine good years together, which was more than many people got.
He glanced at Rachel, whose face still wore a sad, distant expression. Her divorce must have been difficult since she claimed to no longer be interested in marriage or romance.
Simon recalled seeing something about the end of her marriage in various internet articles, though he’d skipped over the gory details. She’d overcome pain in a number of different ways; he admired that.
He fixed his gaze forward, frustrated that he kept thinking about Rachel in such personal terms. Even if he was willing to consider another long-term relationship, he simply wasn’t ready.
Olivia was a ghost, haunting his heart and mind.
