A Taste of Merlot by Heather Heyford Page B

tastefully done cosmetic surgery, the fine lines on his aunt’s neck and the prominent trail of veins on the back of her hands betrayed her age.
    When was she going to start trusting him again, give him more responsibility? The company’s fiftieth anniversary was coming up next year, and she’d been there for at least thirty of them.
    â€œI was about to call it a day. Dick’s taking me to dinner.”
    â€œI’m glad I caught you,” said Mark. “I have some POs that need signed. Tonight, if possible.”
    She pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and blotted her lips. “Mark, you know I like to take my time signing orders. It’s not something you can simply slide under my nose at five o’clock.”
    Mark gritted his teeth. Before being promoted to buyer, he’d been an assistant buyer for three years and, before that, paid his dues in the San Francisco flagship store, working in every department from customer service to department manager—thanks to Gloria strapping a rocket to his back. But as Gloria giveth, Gloria taketh away.
    â€œI know. I sent it to you electronically, but I printed it too so we could go over it together. I’ve been working on these all afternoon. I finally found a hot new line. But we gotta move fast to get the goods in for the spring season.”
    Gloria slid her reading glasses on. “Yes, I do know. I’ve been wondering how long you intended to put off your buying. Very well, let me see them. Who is the vendor?”
    â€œIt’s called Gilty Artisanal Jewelry, and it’s going to be a sensation. Here, let me pull it up for you.” He reached in between Gloria and her keyboard and brought up Gilty’s prize-winning bracelet on her big screen to give her the full impact. She tilted her head back and studied the screen.
    Mark held his breath and waited.
    â€œAll right.” She lowered her chin and peered at him from over her readers. “Start talking. What’s their history? Their price point? Who retails them now?”
    Yes!
    â€œNo one.”
    She looked at him askance.
    He appreciated her experience, but why couldn’t she be more flexible? More receptive to new ideas?
    â€œWhat I mean is, she’s brand new. Right out of Gates. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but this bracelet”—he tapped the screen—“won their Purchase Prize. We’re going to be the ones who discover her. Harrington’s is going to put her on the map.”
    Gloria removed her readers, folded them, and laid them on her desk.
    â€œI see. Well then. First of all, the word ‘artisanal’ scares me. Who’s ‘Gilty’ got working for her?”
    She needed some kind of assurance that the goods would be produced, delivered. No goods, no sales.
    â€œNobody, yet . . .”
    Gloria’s arched brows said he should know better than to bring her a substantial order with a vendor that was completely untried. “Are you joking? Do I need to remind you what happened last spring?”
    â€œ. . . but I’m looking into that for her. I’ve got calls in to West Coast Jewelry Artisans and our connections in Bali. When they see the quality of the designs, they’ll be jumping at the chance to partner with her.”
    â€œAssuming they’re not already committed for spring, at this late date,” said Gloria, taking another gander at the screen. She commandeered the mouse, scrolling through more of Gilty’s designs with a practiced eye. After she’d had her fill, she rocked back in her ergonomic leather chair.
    â€œMark, I’m surprised at you, frankly. You walk in here at five o’clock, expecting me to sign off on four purchase orders totaling a sixth of your spring budget. Meanwhile, for the past two months, FireForged has been hounding me with e-mails, wanting more display space. Gold N Ice, too. They did all right for us last year, given the bear