“Really.”
The look on Miriam Timmons’s face wasn’t especially friendly. Was she interested in Simon on a personal basis, or did she suspect the purpose behind the tour was his concern over how the shop was operating? Whatever the reason, she clearly wasn’t thrilled when Simon firmly sent her out the door and locked it behind her.
Rachel gazed at a memorial photo on the wall with a tribute from the staff written beneath. While not traditionally beautiful, Olivia had been an auburn-haired, blue-eyed stunner, whose picture seemed to exude the same suppressed energy as her husband. They must have been exhausting to know as a couple.
“She looks so dynamic,” Rachel said to Simon, who was also gazing at the large portrait. “I get the impression of tight springs, as if she was bursting to keep moving and even sitting still for a picture was hard for her.”
He chuckled, though there was sadness in his face. “Liv had to do everything as fast as possible. Before we met, I thought I was the only one who was that driven. It was a struggle to make time for marriage and family, but we managed.”
A wistful envy went through Rachel. Mutually demanding careers had also been tough on her and Hayden. In a way she kept wanting to blame the accident for her divorce, but she knew it had just precipitated the inevitable end. Their problems had begun practically from the day of their wedding.
It wasn’t that she still loved him. The idea of love and partnership was appealing, despite her choice to stay single and focus on friendship. She was a modern woman, yet deep down she longed for the fairy-tale love she’d grown up hearing her grandmother talk about.
“Is something wrong?” Simon asked.
“No, of course not.”
He hiked an eyebrow and she shrugged.
“I was thinking about the problem with fairy tales. ‘And they lived happily ever after’ is really just the beginning of the story. Falling in love is easy, but staying in love and making things work is hard. You and your wife succeeded where a lot of people fail.” Rachel squared her shoulders. “Enough of that. How about showing me where the designer does her thing?”
“Sure.”
As they moved past the public area, Rachel studied what she could see of the operation. Sketches, fabric swatches, half-made garments. This was the heart of the process, where the creative production began.
When she tried to open a large wardrobe, she discovered it was locked.
“Are there valuables in here?” she asked.
“That’s where Liv used to store her designs ready for production. I believe it’s still used for the same purpose.”
He took a key ring from his pocket. “Liv gave me this as a way of showing she trusted me. We got married rather quickly and it was kind of a wedding present.”
Rachel grinned. “Does your designer know you have it?”
“Probably not. I’ve got the impression she’s slightly paranoid about her designs being copied, but I wouldn’t give it to her, regardless.”
Of course not. The key symbolized a relationship and it was endearing that Simon carried it with him more than two years after his wife’s death. Hopefully it remained a working key.
He fitted it into the lock and it turned. “Let’s see what secrets are hidden here,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Maybe it’s a dragon’s lair.”
Rachel hadn’t expected the hint of whimsy. Perhaps, deep down, there was a little boy inside the stern man she’d seen so far. The doors opened to show a rack of clothes. She began pulling a garment out, then stopped. “Should we make sure they go back in the same order?”
“Frankly, I don’t care. Under Janine’s contract, her designs belong to the company.”
One by one Rachel took the garments from the cabinet. The fabric was conventional and not unattractive, but far from distinctive. If possible, the clothes were even more blah than the last time she’d taken a look at a Liv’ing Creations collection. She didn’t actually think another designer could capture Olivia Kessler’s style, but surely someone could be found who’d use more color and innovation.
“What do you think?” Simon asked.
“It’s more of the same,” she admitted, deciding to be frank. If he didn’t like what she had to say, he didn’t have to hire her as a consultant. “A clothing designer may do something startling to be unique, which can work great for some people. But Liv’ing Creations made stylish and unusual clothing that everyone could enjoy. That probably doesn’t make sense to you.”
“I think I get what you’re saying. What is your take on this collection?”
“Some of the designs are decent, even classic, but they’re largely in the clone category. They should appeal to women who shop at department stores, wanting to look like other properly dressed midlevel business women, which often means not standing out or grabbing attention.”
Simon gritted his teeth. “That definitely wasn’t Liv’s intention. How can it be fixed?”
“I wish it was as easy as pushing the designer to be more experimental with color and fabric. Besides, she might be planning to dress up these outfits with accessories we aren’t seeing here.”
He glanced at the clothes they’d taken from the wardrobe. “Would it make a difference to you if unique accessories were provided and you were shopping in this collection?”
“Not really and I think most women prefer to choose their own accessories. With these clothes, it’s as if the designer you hired wants so badly to be successful that she’s deliberately departed from Olivia’s style and headed for the herd instead. How free a hand have you given her?”
Simon winced. “She had initial instructions, but after I hired Ms. Jenkins, I asked my business manager to stay in touch with Miriam Timmons. It’s only recently that I’ve got more involved.”
Of course. After his wife’s death, he must have been far too distracted to pay much attention to anything.
“Then it’s possible that Janine Jenkins actually is a department store clothing designer,” Rachel said carefully.
“I’m afraid so. Miriam spent years working with Liv, so I thought it would be all right when she recommended a designer.”
Rachel recalled the less-than-friendly expression in Miriam Timmons’s eyes. Perhaps she was under pressure because the designer she’d suggested wasn’t working out well.
They continued through the studio. Pushed to the back of storeroom shelves, gathering dust, were bolts of fabric Rachel recognized. “I have a dress made out of that one,” she said, pointing.
“The colors would be great on you.”
“Thanks. It’s a shame such lovely fabrics aren’t being used.”
His words about the color had sounded like a compliment, but she doubted that was what he’d intended. This was entirely about business and there was nothing else between them.
* * *
SIMON CAUGHT HIMSELF watching Rachel as she sorted through the fabric bolts. He’d spoken without thinking, but she hadn’t followed up with the kind of remark or attitude that might have turned it into a personal moment.
She tugged at a bolt on a high shelf and he helped lift it down, trying not to notice her curves or the faint, sweet scent of her perfume. It was an old-fashioned scent, with a hint of gardenias. Since that evening in the garden he’d often imagined smelling it out there, but she couldn’t possibly be on her balcony every single time he was outside, too.
After examining the fabric, Rachel glanced over her shoulder. “Kessler is printed on the end of the bolts. Are they from the textile company you mentioned at Livvie’s tea party?”
“Yes, produced to my wife’s specifications. We’d just started making them for Liv’ing Creations when... Well, it wasn’t an issue any longer. There’s a warehouse full of the stuff and Liv left dozens of fabric patterns that were never used. What about having Janine substitute them, instead of the neutral fabric she�
��s using now?”
The corners of Rachel’s mouth twitched as if she wanted to laugh and was restraining herself. “I don’t think it’s that easy. The fabric patterns were probably for specific designs your wife had in mind. They would need to be combined in a creative, dynamic way.”
Rachel took the lids from a number of dust-covered boxes and looked inside, her face growing more somber as she inspected the contents.
“What?” he asked.
“It looks as if they just stuck everything in here that wasn’t finished.”
“Out with the old,” Simon added, grimly recalling something that had happened during a recent visit to the design house. Janine Jenkins had suggested creating her own label and changing the name of the company to JJ’s Designs. He’d wanted to fire her on the spot. Now, after hearing what Rachel had to say, he was certain the designer had never intended to honor the commitment she’d made to emulate Olivia’s unique style.
Anger filled him and he had to struggle not to reveal it. He was a businessman and expected people to do what they were paid to do, but what bothered him the most was Olivia’s memory being disrespected. It was ironic. He’d never felt sentiment and business could coexist and yet here he was, willing to do everything possible to preserve Liv’ing Creations for his daughter.
“I’m sorry. It must be hard to have your wife...” Rachel stopped and Simon hated the look in her eyes—sympathy was bad enough, but pity was untenable.
“It is what it is,” he said shortly. “Do you think the half-finished designs should go into production?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to say. When the timing is right, offering them as a classic Liv’ing Creations collection might be a good idea. The original drawings for the designs must be somewhere. Designers don’t work from nothing.”
“Liv made extensive notes and storyboards of her designs, with views of the fronts, backs and each side. I don’t know at what point she scanned everything into the computer, but I told Miriam not to discard anything without my authorization. So if they aren’t in the computer records, the original storyboards had better be here.”
Rachel nodded. “Good. If nothing else, Livvie might find a way to use them someday. From what I’ve seen of her drawings, she’s bursting with creative ability.”
“She’s going to be a designer like her mother.”
A shadow seemed to cross Rachel’s finely sculpted features. “She’s young. Has that always been her ambition?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business and I don’t know the situation.”
“You’ve opened the can, you may as well let the worms out,” Simon said impatiently.
“Fine. I have a colleague whose parents wanted him to be a lawyer in the worst way. When he ended up with a career that didn’t fit their image of a highbrow professional, they couldn’t let it go. They nagged him for years about it. The family has resolved their differences now, but it was a long, painful process.”
“I’ve never pushed Livvie to do anything,” Simon insisted, offended by the idea. “She’s the one who says she wants to design clothes like her mommy.”
“As I said, I shouldn’t have spoken in the first place.”
This wasn’t the first time someone had offered unsolicited advice about the needs of a child being raised by a single father, though the advice wasn’t entirely unsolicited in Rachel’s case. Apparently, she hadn’t intended to say anything more than her initial words, but he disliked hanging statements or suggestive comments. In his opinion it was best to get everything into the open and deal with it immediately.
* * *
MATT TUPPER SUPPRESSED a yawn as he ran his fingers over the equipment and made minor adjustments. The Sound Worthy band was doing the final track for their single and it had been a long session. He’d have to call a break if it continued for another hour, because Pepper would need to go outside. Pepper had amazing control over her bodily functions, but Matt didn’t think it was right to let her be uncomfortable, particularly in a week when she’d gone through the stress of vaccinations and her annual exam.
Luckily they were done ten minutes later. “Thanks for letting us do everything today,” the lead vocalist told him. “The guitarist has a two-month gig with another band, six nights a week.”
“It sounded good, Bernadette,” Matt assured her. “I’ll start the mixing and mastering tomorrow.”
“Do you think you’ll find any problems?” He heard strain in her voice. “I don’t think we have enough money left in the budget for another recording session.”
“I’m not anticipating any, but there wouldn’t be a studio charge if I find a technical problem. The rest depends on how happy each of you are with your performances.”
They were hoping to get a big record producer interested in their single. From what Matt had heard of them, he thought they had a better chance than some of the other singers and bands he’d recorded. One of the hard parts of his business was working with a group that seemed to be fooling themselves about their talent. He often felt bad about charging them, but who was he to stomp on someone’s dreams? People had tried to do that to him when he lost his sight, and he’d proved them wrong.
Bernadette left to speak with the others.
A few minutes later, heavier footsteps approached.
“Hey, Matt, thanks for staying late.” It was the guitarist. Matt’s mental image of Eddie Harcourt was of a tall, skinny guy with long hair and a scraggly beard. The reality was probably quite different, but even before losing his sight he’d hear a person’s voice and get an instant picture in his brain of their appearance. The same thing still happened, now with little chance of correction.
“You’re welcome.”
“I really wanted to do this recording,” Eddie said, “but I couldn’t pass up a paying gig. Music gig, that is. My dad pays me to work at his company during the day. He says I’ll never make it in music and should just give up.”
“I suppose parents think they’re being helpful when they tell us to take the safe road,” Matt replied.
“Don’t they remember what it’s like to be our age? You can’t get anywhere if you don’t take a chance.”
“They probably remember it in a different way.”
And hate seeing their kids disappointed. Matt knew his folks felt that way. But there was more than one kind of disappointment, and surely it was better to give your dreams a shot and fail than not try at all.
The band left and Matt shut off the equipment. Last of all he called for the access van. The operator said it would take around forty-five minutes to arrive.
Pepper seemed eager to get outside, and they went to the grassy area the landlords had set aside for animals to do their business. After Matt took care of Pepper’s “deposit,” they walked up and down the sidewalk by the longest section of the building. The van driver knew where to look if they weren’t in their usual spot. She didn’t mind. As a dog lover, Vanessa understood both he and Pepper needed to stretch their legs.
Soft footfalls approached.
“Hi, Matt.” The voice belonged to Nicole George. “You’re here late tonight.”
“A recording session went overtime,” he explained.
“Your clients are fortunate to have someone so patient.”
“Aren’t you late leaving, as well?” he asked.
“Just trying to work down a backlog, though it’s never completely done. But it’s getting better with Rachel here.”
His landlords were nice people. Not that the former owner would have sold the agency and building to anyone he didn’t think would do a good job. Kevin McClaskey could be a pain with his desire to help everyone, but he was honest and loyal. Still, Matt appreciated not having to constantly defend his self-sufficiency with the new owners. Unlike Kevin, they respected the bo
undaries he set and didn’t try to cross them.
“Rachel seems pleasant,” he commented.
“She’s terrific. By the way, she said to let you know that she found someone with a great voice who’s interested in volunteering to read books for the blind.”
“I appreciate Moonlight Ventures keeping an ear out for volunteers.”
“It helps some of our clients, too,” Nicole assured him. “This way they get a professional credit, even if it’s unpaid.”
Matt heard footsteps that sounded like a tall man walking toward them.
“Hey, Jordan, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Nicole called. Jordan was her fiancé, and her tone was filled with the warm timbre of pleasure. “I thought we were going to call our folks at the house.”
“I heard from your mother. She came down with a migraine, so we’ll have to delay, since we need to speak to everyone as closely together as possible. I’ve already let my parents know we’ve postponed. Since we won’t be talking to them, I wondered if you wanted an evening sail and dinner on the lake?”
“Sounds terrific. I’ll follow you over to the marina. Night, Matt.”
“Have a good evening.”
Jordan said good-night as well, and Matt listened as their cars departed. Jordan and Nicole seemed to be a good couple, though he didn’t know them well. And now that they were engaged, Jordan came around often.
People in love did that sort of thing, though it wasn’t something he knew from personal experience. So far, love had eluded him. Just as well. He kept a busy schedule and probably shouldn’t add anything on top. Besides...when it came to romance, many women couldn’t deal with him being blind. It wasn’t a criticism, just reality.
* * *
RACHEL SPENT AT least an hour exploring aspects of the design house, but it wasn’t easy to concentrate around Simon. She couldn’t fault his behavior, but didn’t appreciate the way his expression could turn hard and almost suspicious. While it might just be mixed feelings about bringing in an outsider to consult on his wife’s creations, she suspected it was more.
Family by Design Page 6