by Beverly Long
“I want to be dull. For eight hours every night.”
Nobody who looked like she did in bed would ever be accused of being dull. “Good luck with that.”
Chapter 10
The sandwiches arrived just after noon. Megan scribbled her name on the charge slip and carried them back to the break area and slid them into the fridge. But she was way too busy to eat.
Most of the women who had been in the fashion show came. And they brought friends. And other people came, smartphones in hand, with their 20-percent-off coupon at the ready.
Chloé worked the cash register and Jasmine greeted people as they came in and offered up dressing rooms. That allowed Megan to chat with and help those customers interested in the North and More Designs collection.
At two, when there was finally a small break, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Seth. Who’d managed to be fairly unobtrusive although she suspected that every woman in the store had noticed the handsome man. “You should eat something,” he said.
“I probably could now,” she said, looking around. “Let me make sure that Chloé and Jasmine have had something.”
“They have. It’s your turn.”
“If you’ll come with me,” she said. “You’ve got to be starving.”
“I could eat,” he admitted. “It seems to me that almost everybody who has come in has bought something.”
“I know. That’s the goal. When Abigail and I went to market, we tried to always focus on quality first and then once we had that, we also made sure that we could offer merchandise at three different price points. A less expensive, a moderate, and then...well...pricier. The two-hundred-dollar sweater isn’t right for everyone; I want people to know that there’s something here for them.”
“Smart,” he said. “‘Went to market,’” he repeated. “What’s that?”
“There are major fashion shows each year, in various cities, where vendors have booths and product samples. Vegas is actually one of the biggest. Abigail and I attended multiple shows last year and purchased the merchandise that you’re seeing hanging in the store today. Going to market is exhausting. You’re looking at clothes and accessories all day long and then going back to your hotel at night to make decisions. Most markets last a week or so and may be spread out over multiple locations—clothing here, and two blocks away, accessories. The key is to wear good walking shoes. You’re trying to be part fortune-teller and know what people are going to want to wear six to nine months down the road. Of course, I’d spent years already as a designer, which takes the same luck or ability to predict a trend.”
“Is it the chicken or the egg?”
She frowned at him.
“As a designer, do your clothes come first and then fashion trends follow? Or is the trend happening and as a designer, you’ve got to make sure that you’re in lockstep with that trend?”
“Probably a little of both.”
“A chegg. Chicken and egg.”
She smiled. “That’s me. A chegg.”
She was halfway through her turkey sandwich when Seth, who a second before had been sitting in his chair, looking very relaxed, moved fast, to get between her and the door.
She looked around him and saw Weston, who had opened the door and now stood in the entryway. He put his hands, rather sheepishly, she thought, in the air. “I come in peace,” he said. “Jasmine said you were back here.”
“Come in,” she said.
Seth turned to give her a look. She ignored him.
Weston pulled out a chair and sat. Seth had yet to return to his spot. Nobody said anything.
It was ridiculous. “Uh, Seth, could you give us a minute, please?” she asked.
She thought he might say hell, no. Instead, he simply said, “I’ll be right outside the door.”
Weston waited until the door closed behind Seth before saying, “Should I consider that a promise or a threat?”
Megan smiled. “Probably a little of both.”
Weston leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I want to apologize for last night. I understand from several people that I wasn’t at my best.”
“Never really what we want to hear.”
“Indeed. And while several details are a little sketchy, I think I owe you an apology for stepping over the line of attorney/client privilege.”
This was the charming Weston that she’d encountered on the phone. “No harm done,” she said.
“I think I may be lucky that I’m not here with a broken nose,” he said, pointing toward the door.
“Seth was just doing his job,” she said.
Weston seemed to consider that. “While it’s no excuse, the woman that I’d been dating for the past eight months suddenly called it off yesterday. I consoled myself with too much whiskey. It was stupid and definitely unprofessional given that I was at a client event.”
“It’s done,” Megan said. “Apology accepted. We don’t need to discuss it again.”
Weston’s face relaxed. “So I didn’t screw up our working relationship?”
“Not one bit. What do you think of the store?”
“It looks great. Good day so far?”
“Better than I think we even hoped for,” she admitted. “And everything is going really smoothly.”
“Excellent. If you’ve got a minute, I’ve had a call from one of the tenants in the Vegas building. It was kind of odd and I was hoping to discuss it with you before I responded.”
“Of course.”
* * *
Seth did not think that Weston was a threat to Megan. At least not in the traditional sense that he intended to harm her. But he was good at reading people and Weston was interested in Megan.
Now, maybe he cared about all his clients.
But Seth didn’t think so.
Which was why he was going to give him another five minutes.
He saw Chloé Dawson coming his direction, her arms full of clothes. “Heading this way?” he asked, nodding his head toward the inventory room.
“Yes.”
He opened the door for her and she walked past him.
“Thank you,” she said, turning her head to look at him. She smiled. “Crazy day. One of our early customers asked me to put these aside for her daughter who can’t get here until this afternoon and this is the first chance I’ve had. I almost just sold one of them by mistake.”
“How’s this work experience compared to what you did at J.T. Daly’s?”
She looked surprised. “How did you know I worked there?”
“You mentioned it yesterday when we were doing introductions.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “That’s right. You’re a good listener. Not a quality I associate with most men.”
It was a bit of a backhanded compliment. And maybe an effort to avoid the question. “What store was it that you worked in?”
“In Scottsdale. It was their flagship store,” she added. As if that had been important to her.
“Lucky for Megan that you found your way to Sedona, to this store.”
“Fortunate for both of us, I hope. I know I’m certainly grateful.”
She was saying all the right things. But there was a look in her eye. Maybe she wasn’t all that impressed with Megan’s little boutiques.
He was glad that he’d initiated a background check on her. Megan had found a spare minute to slip him Chloé’s employment application and he’d texted her name, address and social security number to Royce. That was all he’d need.
Chloé returned to the cash register and Seth stared at the closed break room. He was just about to knock when Weston opened the door and came out. He ignored Seth.
Seth waited until the man had cleared the front door. “What did he want?” he asked Megan, who now stood next to him.
“Well, to apologize, for one th
ing.”
“For being an ass?”
She tilted her pretty little chin down. “For being over-served. And I’m grateful that he did. It cleared the air.”
“Right. I don’t like him.”
“You don’t know him.”
Seth just shrugged.
“I’ve appreciated his counsel,” she said. “Like just now, he brought me a request from an existing tenant at the Vegas property and together, we determined a response.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Not exactly. But they’re requesting a ten-year lease.”
“And what’s your position?”
“I’m not interested. I’ve met Mr. Precco and he’s nice enough, but a ten-year lease ties me up for too long. I may want to do something else with the space at some point. I’m just not sure yet.”
“Which tenant is this?”
“The one right across the corridor from the boutique. They have the antiques store.”
“That’s right,” he said. Not only could they see the antiques store from the Wingman Security windows, he’d also been inside with his mom on a couple occasions. She liked that kind of thing. “I’ve been in their store. I didn’t get the impression that merchandise was flying off the shelves.”
“They must do well enough. When we did our due diligence on the property, we checked the payment history of the current tenants. They always pay on time.”
“Maybe they’re asking for a longer lease because they’re concerned about the building having a new owner.”
“I’m sure they are concerned about me—I’m an unknown to them. That’s why I made a point to meet every single one of the other five tenants after the purchase was finalized.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, we have already lost one business. I think we’d owned the property for about ten days when the tea shop owners came to me and said that their lease was up for renewal but that they wouldn’t be executing it.”
“Do you know why?”
“I asked them specifically if it was because of new ownership of the building and they said no. But they didn’t give me any other reason.”
“Could be a thousand things,” he said.
“I know. And it turned out to be a stroke of luck. We used their space to enlarge the existing footprint of the prior boutique. We could have gotten by but the extra square footage is allowing us much more display space.”
He studied her. “Well, if Marberry is helping you with this, then maybe he’s not a total ass. You’ve really dived headfirst into the deep end of entrepreneurship.”
“At times, I feel as if I’m only treading water.”
“Not so,” he said. “You’re doing the fifty-yard freestyle in just over eighteen seconds.”
“I know nothing about competitive swimming. Is that good?”
“I think so. It sticks in my head as useless information I’ve learned along the way.”
“Alright then. I’m going to sidestroke up to the front and check in with Jasmine.”
If he’d been with his partners, he’d have figured out a juvenile way to interject breaststroke into the conversation. They’d have counted on it.
But now he just kept his mouth shut and took his spot in the back, leaning up against the wall.
Damn. She wasn’t the only one worried about keeping a head above water.
He was sinking fast. She had him watching his words.
Chapter 11
Gillian O’Day’s background check offered up nothing of interest. She had some student debt and a reasonable amount of credit card debt for someone her age. She had lived in the same apartment for three years and dated the same guy for two years. They were engaged with a wedding date set for next spring. She was planning to wear a North and More Designs original bridal gown.
Seth wondered when Megan was going to find time to make that happen.
Megan’s brother-in-law, Evan Chevalier, had a more colorful report. He apparently liked fast cars and had several tickets to prove it. Also had one disorderly conduct charge for an incident in a bar. His passport had gotten twelve new stamps in just the last two years and based on his credit card changes, there’d been skiing in Switzerland, big-game hunting in Zimbabwe and sunning in Belize.
And then it had ended about six months earlier. Probably about the time that he’d found out about Abigail’s pregnancy.
There was absolutely no reason to think he might want to harm Megan.
Seth sent his thanks back to Wingman Security and asked them to add Weston Marberry to the list.
At four, Megan walked past. “Time for us to get on the road to Albuquerque.”
Where they would do this all over again. “Ready when you are,” he said. “Happy with the day?”
“Very. How about you? Must have been kind of boring for you.”
“Again, you don’t hope for something bad to happen. And I was a little concerned when those two women both went for the same dress.”
She smiled. “That was fun, wasn’t it? Especially since it was one of my designs. Very good for my ego.”
“You handled it like a pro. Got the dress in the hands of the person who looked good in it and convinced the other woman that ponchos were going to be the accessory of the year.”
“You were listening.”
“That’s how I know useless swimming information.”
“Are you saying that my fashion advice is useless?”
She was pretending to be outraged.
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said. “My mom’s birthday is coming up. I’m going to put all this knowledge to use.”
“I’ll help you get her the perfect thing,” Megan said. “I’m going to let Jasmine know that we’re leaving.”
“Is she coming for the opening, too?”
“Yes. She’ll open here again tomorrow and then fly to Albuquerque tomorrow afternoon for the staff meeting and then spend two full days in Albuquerque.”
“So, you don’t hold your staff to the no fly rule?”
“Of course not. She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”
He could barely bite back a groan. It was a five-and-a-half-hour drive. Across desert.
Torture.
In his plane, he could easily fly it in about two hours.
“Lucky her,” he whispered as Megan walked away.
* * *
They didn’t get out of the store for another forty-five minutes. Even if they drove straight through, it was still going to be past nine by the time they rolled into Albuquerque. Fortunately, there’d been a bunch of sandwiches left over and Megan had grabbed those as well as some water. They ate those during the first half hour.
After they finished, Megan glanced over at him. “You’d rather be flying,” she said.
“Was I that obvious?”
“You just sighed and looked up at the sky.”
“Sorry.” He paused. “Did you always dislike flying or did that just start after your parents died?”
“I was never a big fan but I had flown many times. Family vacations and things like that.”
“Did you fly with your fiancé?”
“Yes,” she said. “Before the accident,” she clarified.
“But never after?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid to fly?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I just don’t want to do it. Don’t want anything to do with it. It’s too painful.”
“It was a bad thing that happened to your parents,” he said. “A bad thing for you and Abigail. You both lost parents. And you, well, you lost...the opportunity to stay at college, to be young without responsibilities, to be wholly focused on yourself at a time when that’s really what you’re supposed to do.”
She pressed her teeth together so tightly that she wouldn’t b
e surprised if she didn’t crack a molar. What the hell was she going to do about Seth?
He wasn’t like her family or her friends, who had been tiptoeing around her for years. Never pushing too hard.
He was a damn glacier and she was the Titanic, taking on water.
“I’m just saying—”
“Stop,” she said, interrupting him.
To his credit, he did just that. She drove for several minutes. Then slowed the car to the point that she could pull off onto the shoulder of the busy highway. She turned to him. “I think we should limit our conversations to business.”
Cars whizzed by them, rocking the vehicle. “That sounds boring as hell.”
She let out a loud sigh. “How about business and anything travel-or tourist-related. Including food and weather.”
“Oh, weather. Be still my heart,” he said, patting his chest. “Love a good discussion about humidity or lack thereof.”
“There’s always dew points,” she said. She tried for upbeat but it came out sounding sad.
“Listen, if I overstepped, I’m sorry,” he said.
She pulled back. “Wow. I wasn’t anticipating an apology.”
“You know what I said about Wingman Security—we like to under-promise and over-deliver.”
“Whatever. But I do appreciate the apology. And I’m sorry I snapped.” She drew in a deep breath. “We don’t need to talk about this anymore.” She put on her turn signal and carefully pulled back onto the highway.
After twenty minutes or so, Seth said, “So what would be the business part?”
“What?” she asked. Her head was a jumble of thoughts, jumping back and forth fifteen years in seconds.
“You said we could talk about business. Help me define that.”
“Well, anything about the stores or fashion in general.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve got a lot of questions on that.”
She smiled. “You’re really ridiculous, you know that?”
“I do know that,” he said.
They drove another twenty miles before he straightened up in his seat. “I’d be happy to drive,” he said. “I’m a good driver. Accident-free. You can call my insurance company and verify that information if you want.”