to do that.
“Kiddo—”
“Please don’t call me kiddo!”
Richard closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, looking almost as though he’d been struck. “Lindy. You know that thing you said, where we could do this and then still be friends afterward?”
At her embarrassed nod, he went on. “Last night was great. And this morning it’s a little weird. I think we’re both feeling a little more emotional than we thought. Which is probably why people say that doing stuff like this is a bad idea. But,” he emphasized, pointing a wooden spoon in her direction, “that doesn’t mean that we can’t get past it. Right?”
Lindy nodded again. “Right.”
“Okay. We each had an idea of what this morning would be like, and now the circumstances are just not what we thought. But like you said, these things happen. So I’ll just stay here with my self-made pancakes, and you go do your thing you need to do with Stella, and when you come back we’ll be cool again.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep.” He twirled the spoon between his fingers. “Just like that.”
Lindy doubted it was that easy. But at least she felt a little less miserable when she left. Less miserable, but no less confused.
* * * * *
Although she kept mum on the subject of Richard, Lindy did mention the Red House call when she met with her mentor and client, Stella Devlin. Since she’d “discovered” Lindy a few years before, Stella had become a friend, and once in a while even a confidante. Not often, though. Lindy usually kept her personal issues to herself, even with friends. And right now she was keeping her biggest news to herself, at least until she decided how she actually felt about it.
Stella was of two minds about Lindy’s business dilemma. “It must be pretty flattering. But I don’t know, I worry that Red House is trying to push things too far. A store brand, different designers? They’re a great chain, but they’re not an anchor store. I don’t know, sometimes it’s better to just play to strengths. You’re doing surprisingly well working this niche market you’ve found. Doing a bigger contract would mean more money, but it could also be a lot more work than you’re prepared to take on. And you might find yourself in trouble a year later if that company goes belly-up because they’ve overextended. A lot of stores are doing that these days.”
“I guess so,” Lindy said dubiously. She was trying first one scarf and then another on the mannequin in Stella’s window, staring at each one critically before removing it. “He seemed really nice.”
“Who, the one you talked to? He may be nice, but some recruiting person isn’t really who you judge the whole company by. No, not that one. That teal is way too green. Try this, it picks up the blue in the bag.”
Lindy wasn’t sure about the colors but she had learned to trust Stella’s instincts. The woman never looked anything less than perfectly turned out, and she knew more about clothes than anyone Lindy had ever met.
Dutifully exchanging the scarf, she cocked her head to examine the new result. “It wasn’t a recruiting person. I meant Paul Maddox. That’s who called me. It seemed like he had a sense of humor. Did I tell you I thought he was my friend Abel? God, that was so embarrassing. But he was okay about it.” She looked around at Stella, who was unusually silent. “What?”
“He called you himself?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Paul Maddox. The Red House heir?”
Lindy nodded. “Yes. He said his creative director had to go out of town so he was picking up the slack. What’s wrong with him calling me? They’re his stores, really, right?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, I guess. A little unusual.” Stella cocked her head. “So he seemed nice?”
“He sounded nice. Why?”
“Nothing. I just know him, that’s all. Or I used to.”
“Seriously? You mean back in The Before Time?” It was Stella’s arch term for a period in her life she
“Kiddo—”
“Please don’t call me kiddo!”
Richard closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, looking almost as though he’d been struck. “Lindy. You know that thing you said, where we could do this and then still be friends afterward?”
At her embarrassed nod, he went on. “Last night was great. And this morning it’s a little weird. I think we’re both feeling a little more emotional than we thought. Which is probably why people say that doing stuff like this is a bad idea. But,” he emphasized, pointing a wooden spoon in her direction, “that doesn’t mean that we can’t get past it. Right?”
Lindy nodded again. “Right.”
“Okay. We each had an idea of what this morning would be like, and now the circumstances are just not what we thought. But like you said, these things happen. So I’ll just stay here with my self-made pancakes, and you go do your thing you need to do with Stella, and when you come back we’ll be cool again.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep.” He twirled the spoon between his fingers. “Just like that.”
Lindy doubted it was that easy. But at least she felt a little less miserable when she left. Less miserable, but no less confused.
* * * * *
Although she kept mum on the subject of Richard, Lindy did mention the Red House call when she met with her mentor and client, Stella Devlin. Since she’d “discovered” Lindy a few years before, Stella had become a friend, and once in a while even a confidante. Not often, though. Lindy usually kept her personal issues to herself, even with friends. And right now she was keeping her biggest news to herself, at least until she decided how she actually felt about it.
Stella was of two minds about Lindy’s business dilemma. “It must be pretty flattering. But I don’t know, I worry that Red House is trying to push things too far. A store brand, different designers? They’re a great chain, but they’re not an anchor store. I don’t know, sometimes it’s better to just play to strengths. You’re doing surprisingly well working this niche market you’ve found. Doing a bigger contract would mean more money, but it could also be a lot more work than you’re prepared to take on. And you might find yourself in trouble a year later if that company goes belly-up because they’ve overextended. A lot of stores are doing that these days.”
“I guess so,” Lindy said dubiously. She was trying first one scarf and then another on the mannequin in Stella’s window, staring at each one critically before removing it. “He seemed really nice.”
“Who, the one you talked to? He may be nice, but some recruiting person isn’t really who you judge the whole company by. No, not that one. That teal is way too green. Try this, it picks up the blue in the bag.”
Lindy wasn’t sure about the colors but she had learned to trust Stella’s instincts. The woman never looked anything less than perfectly turned out, and she knew more about clothes than anyone Lindy had ever met.
Dutifully exchanging the scarf, she cocked her head to examine the new result. “It wasn’t a recruiting person. I meant Paul Maddox. That’s who called me. It seemed like he had a sense of humor. Did I tell you I thought he was my friend Abel? God, that was so embarrassing. But he was okay about it.” She looked around at Stella, who was unusually silent. “What?”
“He called you himself?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Paul Maddox. The Red House heir?”
Lindy nodded. “Yes. He said his creative director had to go out of town so he was picking up the slack. What’s wrong with him calling me? They’re his stores, really, right?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, I guess. A little unusual.” Stella cocked her head. “So he seemed nice?”
“He sounded nice. Why?”
“Nothing. I just know him, that’s all. Or I used to.”
“Seriously? You mean back in The Before Time?” It was Stella’s arch term for a period in her life she
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