which comment she was responding to. “ We ’ ll figure something out, ” she said.
“ Thanks, ” Sina said happily and left.
“ This will not end well, ” Ginevra predicted gloomily.
Allegra didn ’ t answer. Her story about an “ Ottoman line ” had started her creative wheels turning and she was deep into a one-woman brainstorming session.
Allegra had been feeling stale for a while. She kept abreast of what other designers who ’ d been with her at Ars Sutoria were doing and couldn ’ t help feeling she was coming up short. Emily Cooper of Meandher was designing fantastic shoes season after season and Allegra felt like all she was doing was repeating herself.
What if I stamped mandala designs in the toes of a simple flat? Is anybody doing that? she wondered. Allegra did a quick Google search and found a Caf é Press site called Mandalas Footwear that featured fantastic flip flops with designs on the soles but nothing that was like what she had in mind. She ordered a couple of pairs of the flip flops for herself and Grace because they were less than $20, and then she ended up distracted by links leading to pictures of mandalas made of toys and household objects, but after a few minutes of that, she grabbed her sketchbook and went to work. An hour later, she had roughed out a whole line, from stamped vegan leather flats to a shoe covered in bright pink sari silk with a beaded mandala-shaped decoration. She gathered up the sketches and put them in a portfolio. She couldn ’ t wait to get home and dig out her Dr. Martin alcohol ink colors and do some proper illustrations.
Chapter 12
The last person Hugo expected to see at Fat Rice was Allegra Zangari. She scowled when she saw him, her look so fierce he put up his hands in mock surrender.
“ I ’ m just waiting for a takeout order, ” he said.
“ Me too, ” she said, looking like she would flee if she could but was too hungry to leave without her order.
“ So, I hear congratulations are in order? ”
“ What are you talking about? ” Allegra said.
“ The sale, ” Hugo said.
“ What sale? ” Allegra demanded.
“ The sale of your company? ”
Allegra ’ s jaw tightened and her blue eyes went steely gray. “ Those are just rumors, ” she said.
I don ’ t think so , Hugo thought, wondering if it was possible that she didn ’ t know.
She caught his expression. “ What is it you ’ ve heard? ” She looked so stricken it shook Hugo. But then he thought about what it would be like if he found out someone was selling his family ’ s company. “ Sorry, I guess I ’ m mistaken, ” he said.
Why do I feel so protective towards her? he wondered. It ’ s her company, if she doesn ’ t know what ’ s going on, she deserves what she gets.
Allegra reached out and put her hand on his arm. “ Seriously Hugo, I need to know. ”
He looked at her hand, so small and pale against the dark cashmere of his overcoat. She wasn ’ t wearing gloves.
Her hands must be so cold, he thought. I ’ d like to warm them up, he thought.
“ How well is Zangari doing? ” he asked bluntly.
She stiffened and pulled her hand away.
“ We ’ re doing fine, ” she said.
“ Are you sure? ”
“ I am. ”
“ Fine enough to buy a villa on Lake Como? Fine enough to bid on a Picasso at Sotheby ’ s?
Allegra shook her head. “ I suppose there ’ s money for that, ” she said. “ But it would empty the accounts. ”
“ Who does your books? ” Hugo asked.
“ We have an in-house accountant, ” Allegra said, then trailed off as she realized that Margot was being phased out in favor of a firm that Julia had picked to do the accounting.
“ Why? ”
Hugo hesitated, knowing that if he told her what he knew and what he suspected, it might shatter her. But in checking into Zangari, Bailey had stumbled across some troubling things, some pieces that didn ’ t seem to fit the puzzle.
“ Mariella and Julia are buying stuff, ” she said
“ Thanks, ” Sina said happily and left.
“ This will not end well, ” Ginevra predicted gloomily.
Allegra didn ’ t answer. Her story about an “ Ottoman line ” had started her creative wheels turning and she was deep into a one-woman brainstorming session.
Allegra had been feeling stale for a while. She kept abreast of what other designers who ’ d been with her at Ars Sutoria were doing and couldn ’ t help feeling she was coming up short. Emily Cooper of Meandher was designing fantastic shoes season after season and Allegra felt like all she was doing was repeating herself.
What if I stamped mandala designs in the toes of a simple flat? Is anybody doing that? she wondered. Allegra did a quick Google search and found a Caf é Press site called Mandalas Footwear that featured fantastic flip flops with designs on the soles but nothing that was like what she had in mind. She ordered a couple of pairs of the flip flops for herself and Grace because they were less than $20, and then she ended up distracted by links leading to pictures of mandalas made of toys and household objects, but after a few minutes of that, she grabbed her sketchbook and went to work. An hour later, she had roughed out a whole line, from stamped vegan leather flats to a shoe covered in bright pink sari silk with a beaded mandala-shaped decoration. She gathered up the sketches and put them in a portfolio. She couldn ’ t wait to get home and dig out her Dr. Martin alcohol ink colors and do some proper illustrations.
Chapter 12
The last person Hugo expected to see at Fat Rice was Allegra Zangari. She scowled when she saw him, her look so fierce he put up his hands in mock surrender.
“ I ’ m just waiting for a takeout order, ” he said.
“ Me too, ” she said, looking like she would flee if she could but was too hungry to leave without her order.
“ So, I hear congratulations are in order? ”
“ What are you talking about? ” Allegra said.
“ The sale, ” Hugo said.
“ What sale? ” Allegra demanded.
“ The sale of your company? ”
Allegra ’ s jaw tightened and her blue eyes went steely gray. “ Those are just rumors, ” she said.
I don ’ t think so , Hugo thought, wondering if it was possible that she didn ’ t know.
She caught his expression. “ What is it you ’ ve heard? ” She looked so stricken it shook Hugo. But then he thought about what it would be like if he found out someone was selling his family ’ s company. “ Sorry, I guess I ’ m mistaken, ” he said.
Why do I feel so protective towards her? he wondered. It ’ s her company, if she doesn ’ t know what ’ s going on, she deserves what she gets.
Allegra reached out and put her hand on his arm. “ Seriously Hugo, I need to know. ”
He looked at her hand, so small and pale against the dark cashmere of his overcoat. She wasn ’ t wearing gloves.
Her hands must be so cold, he thought. I ’ d like to warm them up, he thought.
“ How well is Zangari doing? ” he asked bluntly.
She stiffened and pulled her hand away.
“ We ’ re doing fine, ” she said.
“ Are you sure? ”
“ I am. ”
“ Fine enough to buy a villa on Lake Como? Fine enough to bid on a Picasso at Sotheby ’ s?
Allegra shook her head. “ I suppose there ’ s money for that, ” she said. “ But it would empty the accounts. ”
“ Who does your books? ” Hugo asked.
“ We have an in-house accountant, ” Allegra said, then trailed off as she realized that Margot was being phased out in favor of a firm that Julia had picked to do the accounting.
“ Why? ”
Hugo hesitated, knowing that if he told her what he knew and what he suspected, it might shatter her. But in checking into Zangari, Bailey had stumbled across some troubling things, some pieces that didn ’ t seem to fit the puzzle.
“ Mariella and Julia are buying stuff, ” she said
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