by Louise Bay
The chairs were arranged around the edge of the room. I started at one end and very slowly moved along the line.
Along the edge of the lake hung different-sized diamonds that represented falling snow. Each was a slightly different cut, echoing the way each snowflake was unique. They were the most beautiful earrings I’d ever seen.
People’s reactions ranged from scribbling down notes, to trying to get so close I was concerned the earrings might get inhaled. Most seemed excited, in the subdued way people at Daniels & Co did, and remarked on how beautifully they’d turned out.
“I know everyone is working really hard on this,” Primrose said. “And although some of you haven’t worked on the earrings, none of this collection works without all the components. So, thank you to everyone in this room. You all contributed and we wouldn’t be here without your talent and creativity.”
“You think we’ll win?” Jamie, one of the guys who did a lot of work on the computer—I just wasn’t sure what, exactly—asked.
Primrose frowned. “There are lots of things that I don’t know. But I’m sure we will all have done our best.”
The door opened and Dexter swept in. I hadn’t been expecting him until Jeremy’s presentation. I clung to the stand with the earrings, and tried to pretend my life was no big deal.
“What does everyone think?” he asked, scanning the faces of his employees. He glanced at the earrings and then up at me. “Hollie?”
I tried to ignore the heat crawling up my neck. “I think they’re beautiful. And a little daring.”
A smile curled the corner of his lips. “I like that. Daring. Anyone else?”
“The design is modern,” Sarah said. “I think most other houses will go much more traditional—”
“I don’t want us comparing ourselves to other houses,” he said, cutting Sarah off. “We are competing against ourselves. I want us to give everything we have—to know we’ve left it all on the field and if we had our time again, we wouldn’t do anything differently. If we win, that’s great. If we don’t? Well fuck them for not choosing us because we know we’re the best.”
The room dissolved into laughter, and I tried hard not to toss the earrings at Jeremy, jump into Dexter’s arms and kiss his face off.
“Judging takes place at the end of the week,” Primrose said. “But we won’t have results until all the pieces are in.”
Everyone groaned and chatter started to rise about how we wouldn’t know the score before the bracelet was submitted. But Dexter was right, knowing wouldn’t change anything.
“Did no one hear what I said earlier?” Dexter asked. “The score doesn’t matter. It doesn’t affect our output. Come on guys—be your own competition. Push yourself. Now get back to work. Jeremy, Frank, Hollie, Primrose, stay behind.”
Everyone filed out and Jeremy’s cheeks began to flush. Was he nervous because he’d come up with the presentation concepts or because he was presenting to Dexter, who looked even more completely fuckable than usual? His skin seemed bronzer than normal, his hair a deeper black if that was even possible, and there was a lightness about him I didn’t usually see at the office.
“Frank,” he said, beckoning to the chief engineer. “Two of those settings need to be redone.” He spoke so quietly I could barely make out what he was saying.
“Two?” he asked, approaching me to stare intently at the earrings I still held.
I put them down on the plinth and the two men bent to look at the stand as if they were watching a flea circus.
“I knew about that one,” Frank said, pointing at one of the solitaire diamonds that hung from the lake. “I told you about it.”
“And there,” Dexter said.
Frank looked closer then pulled out his loupe to inspect it more thoroughly. “Bloody hell. How did I miss that?” he asked. “I’m pissed off with myself.”
“Frank,” Primrose said. “You know what an eagle eye Dexter has. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“This is my job, Frank. If you were perfect, I wouldn’t have anything to do.” Dexter patted Frank on the back. “But you know, it’s good you’re pissed off. Keep those standards high.”
Frank huffed as he left the room, mumbling under his breath. Dexter turned to Jeremy. “So, what are the options on presentation?”
I pulled out my Daniels & Co phone, ready to take a note of everything everyone said. Jeremy had just asked me to attend to make sure he remembered Dexter’s and Primrose’s comments, and to help out if he needed an extra pair of hands. I’d only seen one of the concepts, but I knew he’d worked on several ideas.
Jeremy flipped open his laptop. “I have three options.” He launched a video. “I’ve put together a film of the Finnish landscape,” he explained. “The idea is to have the landscape in the backdrop, but add subtle, dynamic movement. Then in the front”—he pointed to three rocks that looked like they’d been fished out of the sea—“I’ve picked out pieces of stone—”
“Rocks,” Primrose said to herself.
“We place the jewelry on the rocks,” Jeremy continued. “And they really stand out. Look, I’ve used some placeholder jewelry in the next bit.”
Jeremy’s gaze flitted between Primrose and Dexter as the video played. “The advantage of this is that it underlines the concept of the collection and it’s the most innovative. I think it will really capture the judges’ attention.”
From where I sat, the presentation just didn’t work. It was pretty and everything, and Jeremy had clearly worked hard on it. But the jewelry was lost in everything going on. There was too much to look at, and the concept didn’t reflect the Daniels & Co brand, which was all about understatement. But what did I know? Perhaps it would be exactly what Dexter and Primrose had envisioned.
Dexter pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t like it. I knew I shouldn’t be mentally high-fiving myself because I liked Jeremy and wanted him to impress his boss, but at the same time Finlandian fairies danced about in my stomach because I agreed with Dexter, the most successful jewelry designer in the business.
“What else?” Dexter asked, clearly not wanting to spend more time on the first concept.
Jeremy pressed play on the video of a glass case that reminded me of an ornament Mrs. Daugherty, the woman two trailers down from my parents, had in her living room window. She’d inherited it from her mother—a red rose preserved in a sort-of snow globe, except there was no snow or liquid. It always made me think that if Mrs. Daugherty had the space for it, her trailer would be full of stuffed beavers and animal heads. In Jeremy’s concept, each item of jewelry was encased in a glass dome set on a mirrored stand. It felt old and staid. I glanced at Dexter to see if I was going to be two for two. His face was completely blank.
“I think this is better,” Primrose said. “Less going on. But I wonder if you had a third option?” From what Dexter had said, he’d known Primrose so long, she knew what he wanted almost before he did. The fairies in my stomach were partying like it was 1999 at the thought that I, too, had anticipated Dexter’s reaction. It felt like a victory to be in agreement with Dexter and Primrose, but at the same time I felt bad for Jeremy.
“I don’t have anything else fully developed,” Jeremy confessed, his shoulders hunched and his gaze focused on the computer screen. He looked defeated.
“Why don’t you tell them about what you were telling me earlier,” I chimed in. “You know—about ‘back to basics.’” Jeremy mentioned he’d played around with plain black velvet in a traditional display case, and I was surprised he hadn’t worked that up into a third concept. Dexter and Primrose both turned to me and I stepped back. I was just the intern. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“What’s back to basics?” Dexter asked.
Jeremy shrugged. “That was a very straightforward display on black velvet.”
Dexter nodded. “I was just thinking that might be the way to go.”
“I have some images,” Jeremy said, clicking through to a new file. “
I didn’t do a video though.” He brought up some images of a traditional set up with jewelry mounted at different levels on a swath of black velvet. “I also did this,” he said, flicking to what looked like pebbles covered in black velvet.
“It’s simple,” Jeremy said, almost anticipating Dexter and Primrose’s rejection.
“Regal,” I countered, unable to stop myself. “The shapes of the pebbles are elemental. And the black is classic Daniels & Co coloring while still representing the earth, the land of Finland,” I said. I wanted to save Jeremy’s ass and sell the concept to Dexter and Primrose, but also, I believed in it. I thought it was the best option—not just of the three we’d seen. I was a big believer in keeping things simple. I glanced at Jeremy to see if he was preparing to wrestle me to the ground and gag me, but he just winked.
“It shows confidence,” Primrose said.
“That’s agreed then,” Dexter said and turned toward the door. “Work up several set-ups for each piece on its own and for the collection together. Different sizes.” I couldn’t wait for Dexter and Primrose to leave so I could high-five Jeremy. “Oh,” he said as he reached the door. “Work with Hollie. I want to see what you two create together.” He swept out and Primrose followed him.
“You saved me back there,” Jeremy said, collapsing back in his chair. “I felt so sure they would go with the first one. I assumed they’d love all the technology and the way it played into the theme.” I understood why he thought that, but Dexter wasn’t ever going to go with a presentation that didn’t focus on the jewelry. “I worked so bloody hard on it.”
“I know but just think—at least you don’t have to worry about setting up computers and screens and all that technical stuff before the judging.”
He nodded. “And we’re back to jewelry on velvet. Not very innovative.”
“But it’s classic. And very Daniels & Co—understated elegance,” I said. Jeremy had been trying to impress Dexter and Primrose, but he should have focused on the jewelry. “The pebble shapes add something unique, give a little bit of edge.”
“I guess,” he said. “Thank God you were here or I would have been sacked. You understood what they wanted more than I did and I’ve been here two years.”
“Lucky, I guess,” I said. Of course, I hoped it wasn’t luck. I hoped I was on track to see stones and design jewelry in the way Dexter and Primrose did. If I had only a tiny fraction of their vision, I might be able to create a new future for myself.
Every day spent in London felt like a step taken in the opposite direction of my life in Oregon. The only problem was I didn’t know what I was walking toward.
Sixteen
Hollie
“You saved Jeremy’s arse today,” Dexter said as we sat cross-legged in his bed, me in one of Dexter’s shirts, eating the cheese and crackers I’d brought over. I wasn’t sure how it happened but we’d gotten into a little routine. Most nights, I would arrive at Dexter’s flat about eight with some food, and he’d just be arriving home from work. I’d cook while he showered and finished up some emails. Today we’d gotten distracted and I’d ended up in the shower with him.
I was enjoying having a salary, and I’d splurged on some expensive cheese I was sure Dexter would love. I’d assumed men like Dexter lived on caviar and champagne, but he loved my grilled cheese and told me my chicken pie was the best thing he’d ever tasted. And then he’d said something dirty and I thwacked him with a tea towel.
“I just went with my gut,” I replied.
“What did it say?” he asked.
“That whatever the display was, it had to be all about the jewelry.”
“Exactly.” He sighed. “I was disappointed he didn’t get it.”
“We shouldn’t talk about this,” I said. I didn’t want to know what Dexter thought about his staff—didn’t want the responsibility of insider information in case it changed the way I looked at my colleagues, who I liked a lot. “Work is work and this is,” I said, pointing at the cheese, “delicious.”
“You’re delicious. Are you sure I can’t just have you for dinner?”
My insides shimmied at his words. “You’re going to need your strength for what I have planned for you later,” I replied.
“I can’t wait. Oh, that reminds me. I have something for you,” he said. He reached over the side of the bed and produced one of those thick paper bags with rope handles that you get from expensive stores.
“What is it?” I asked, eyeing up the orange bag with a big H on it. It looked a bit like the Hermes logo, but of course it couldn’t be. “My birthday isn’t for weeks.”
“Well, why don’t you open it and find out,” Dexter replied.
I wasn’t sure why, but suddenly I felt out of place, sitting on this bed, opposite the most handsome man I’d ever seen. If I was reading the room right, Dexter had bought me a gift. But why would he do that?
I fingered the corner of the bag.
“It won’t bite,” he said.
He was asking me to open a bag—not exactly a demanding request. I wasn’t sure why I was hesitating but if I’d thought I was on a different planet earlier in the day, now we’d rocketed to a different universe. I just felt uncomfortable.
Stop being ridiculous. I pulled the light package onto my lap and picked at the brown, monogrammed tape that sealed it shut. Inside I found a square, shallow box that felt lightweight when I balanced it on my lap. The game was up—the box had Hermes written on it, and I was pretty sure this wasn’t a knock-off. Regardless of what the box held, it was too much for me.
“Can I ask you something?” I said. “Did you buy me this? Like as a gift or something?”
Dexter frowned before putting a piece of cheese on his cracker. “Yeah. I said that before. That I got you a gift.”
Those hadn’t been his exact words. He’d said he had something for me—slightly more ambiguous, and a lot less overwhelming. I wanted to know for sure when I opened the box on my lap what it was for and why. “You don’t need to give me presents,” I said, staring at the box, half itching to open it, half scared to see what was inside.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “You want me to open it?” He reached for the box and I held it out of his way.
I pulled at the thin brown ribbon then lifted the lid. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see but what I got was white tissue paper.
I pulled open the tissue to find fabric that looked like silk—proper silk, not the rayon imitators in my wardrobe. It was printed in the most beautiful colors—every blue and green that had ever been. “What is it?”
“You keep asking me the same questions and I’m going to keep giving you the same answers,” he said. “Pull it out, for goodness sake.” This time he got hold of a corner and pulled the silk from its box, letting it float in a canopy over our heads. The peacock colors swirled above us like the most gorgeous indoor parachute.
“Careful,” I said, jumping up and catching it as it floated down toward our cheese picnic.
“It’s a scarf,” he said as I held the fabric in front of me like it was a picture I was deciding where to hang.
“It’s beautiful.” It was more than that. It was breathtaking. Stunning. It was the kind of scarf that let you know immediately who someone was—sophisticated, well-travelled and college-educated.
Disappointment roiled in my stomach.
I was none of those things.
I glanced over at him and he shrugged. “I saw it in the window and it reminded me of you—your eyes. Your hair. I thought you’d like it.”
Someone cut the cable in my ribcage and my heart landed with a thud in a pool of mixed emotion. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. And then a voice inside my head whispered, Go home. You don’t belong here.
“You okay?” he asked. “Shouldn’t I have bought it?”
“It’s just not . . .” How could I explain what I was feeling when I didn’t know myself? He bought me a gift. I should be giddy. Instead I wanted to thro
w some clothes on and get on the next plane back to Oregon. I’d never felt so far away from home.
“Hey,” he said and pulled me onto his lap. “Did I do something wrong?”
I wanted to push off his lap, get away, but I didn’t want to be ungrateful. “It was really nice of you,” I said, my fingers fiddling with the buttons on the shirt I was wearing.
“Do you hate it?” he asked.
I shook my head. No one could have hated something so beautiful.
“Was it inappropriate? I thought it might be but Stella convinced me to go with my gut. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can take it back, even.”
Inappropriate wasn’t quite the right word, but it was in the neighborhood. “Maybe not inappropriate but . . . it wouldn’t be right on me.”
Dexter cupped my face in his hands. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Hollie Lumen. Because I know it would suit you.”
If I’d learned anything about Dexter over these weeks, it was that he was like a dog with a bone—determined and driven. I wasn’t going to get him to change the subject unless the building was on fire. “I wasn’t thinking about whether or not it would suit me.”
“Then I hope it’s not because you don’t think you’re worth it.”
It was as if the lights went out and someone had sucked all the oxygen from the room. Five minutes ago, we’d been eating cheese and quoting our favorite films. Why had things suddenly gotten so deep?
Why was Dexter wondering what I thought I was worth? I’d been thinking I would never wear a silk scarf once I went back to Oregon, that it would sit in its box the rest of its life. And that led to a thousand more questions. After spending time in London, how could I go back? Would I be successful in getting a job at a jewelers in New York? And even if I did, wherever I was, whatever job I was doing, would I always be Hollie Lumen from the trailer park?