Family By Design

“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.”