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“Then what you said doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Georgie said. “If he didn’t like you, he would have shown you the door today.”
“That’s not necessarily true.”
“Why on earth do you think he doesn’t like you?”
“The way he looked at me, for one thing. It was obvious he disapproved of me.”
“Joanna, come on. You’re exaggerating, surely.”
“No, I’m not. I’m used to that look. Men either want to get me into bed or turn up their noses when they see me. There’s seldom a happy medium. And men like Marcus Barlow belong to the latter group. I’m surprised he even wants to give me a show.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Why would how you look have any bearing on his decision to give you a show? It’s your designs that will be shown, not you. I mean, I’ve seen the way some of the big-name designers look, and trust me, a lot of them are downright weird.”
“Yes, but this isn’t New York or Paris. This is Seattle.”
“Seattle’s not a cow town, you know. It’s considered very hip and cool.”
“By the people who live here, maybe.”
“Now you’re not making any sense at all. I can’t imagine that a man who would own a gallery like Up and Coming would be bothered because you look more avant-garde than conservative. Anyway, we could argue about this all day and get nowhere. So let’s move on. Tell me what he’s like—other than the fact that you think he doesn’t like you or approve of you.”
“In a nutshell, he’s handsome, arrogant and used to telling people what to do.”
“Arrogant? Really?”
“Really.”
“That’s funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“My mother said he was charming. She really liked him. And she’s a good judge of character.”
“What do you mean, your mother said he was charming? When did you talk to your mother about him?”
“I, uh...”
“Georgie, did your mother have anything to do with him calling me?”
“Well, I, um, may have mentioned something to her about him and the gallery and how you wanted to have a show there.”
“Georgie!”
“Jeez, Joanna, don’t get all worked up. It’s normal in the business world to use your contacts. Why shouldn’t you? Anyway, I don’t know if my mother called him or not. Didn’t you say he said something about getting your business card from that manager of his?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, maybe he never talked to Mom. But even if he did, it’s not a big deal. He would never offer to give you a show unless he liked your work.”
“Maybe that’s why he wants to combine his sister’s work with mine. Maybe he thinks mine needs help.”
“I would think,” Georgie said, “if he wants to show your work along with his sister’s, that he really loves your work. I mean, his sister, Joanna.”
“I told him I wasn’t sure I wanted to have my models wearing her jewelry.”
“You did? Really?”
“Yep.”
Georgie laughed. “I can’t believe you sometimes. And what did he say to that?” She was still laughing.
“He said it would be my decision.”
“Then I have no idea what you’re worried about! Sounds to me like he was perfectly reasonable and nice to you.”
Joanna sighed. “On one level, I know you’re right. But on another, I just have this feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“That as far as my show is concerned, Marcus Barlow is going to want to have everything his way. And I’m not sure his way is my way. In fact, I’m sure it’s not.”
For a moment, Georgie didn’t say anything. When she did, Joanna could tell she was trying not to laugh again. “Sounds to me like there might be fireworks ahead.”
Joanna just hoped she wouldn’t be the one getting burned.
Chapter Four
“But, Marcus, I thought this was going to be my chance. I don’t want to share my show with someone else.”
Marcus had figured Vanessa wouldn’t be any more eager to share a show than Joanna had been, but his sister wasn’t really in any position to argue the point, not after her behavior last week.
“This isn’t fair,” she cried. “You’re just doing this to punish me because you’re still mad at me. You grounded me all weekend! Isn’t that enough?”
“I am not punishing you. Besides, combining the two shows isn’t cast in stone. If, after you meet her and see her designs, you still feel you don’t want to do a show with her, we’ll keep them separate. But I think combining the two will enhance the work of both of you, and I’d like you to consider it.”
“But I don’t have to do it if I don’t want to?”
“As I told Miss Spinelli, no, it’ll be your decision. Yours and hers.”
“So she’s not any more eager to combine shows than I am?” Her eyes brightened.
“She’s keeping an open mind. Now, will you take a look at her designs?”
Vanessa sighed. “Oh, all right, I’ll go look at her website now.”
Half an hour later, she came into the study where he was going over the household accounts. “Okay, I went to her website. And she does design beautiful clothes. They’re not the kinds of things I would ever want to wear, but I can see how they’d appeal to a lot of girls. Still, I don’t think—”
“They’re the kinds of things you should wear,” Marcus said, interrupting. He gave a disparaging glance at her torn jeans and tight, layered T-shirts. At five nine and a half, with her wheat-colored hair and beautiful eyes, Vanessa would be striking in one of Joanna’s elegant ensembles. In fact, the dark blue evening gown overlaid in lace would look great on her. Not that she ever went to the kinds of places a young woman would wear something like that. It was all he could do to get her to attend charity functions sponsored by the family. Vanessa gave him a long-suffering look. “As I started to say, I don’t think my jewelry and her designs would look good together.”
“And I think the contrast between them would be interesting.”
“Oh, c’mon, Marcus. You don’t know anything about fashion. Her clothes cry out for high-end jewels, the kinds of things made by Neil Lane or Harry Winston.” She rolled her eyes to show what she thought of them.
“Most young women would kill to be able to wear high-end jewels,” he said mildly.
“I’m not like everyone else.”
Where had this rebellious streak come from? Until recently, Vanessa had been one of the most agreeable sisters imaginable. In fact, she would have done just about anything to please him. But lately she seemed to delight in opposing him. “I only want you to meet the woman.”
“But what’s the point?”
“The point is, I’ve asked it as a favor to me.”
If looks could kill, hers was lethal. “Oh, whatever. Fine. I’ll meet her.”
“Good.”
“When?”
“We’ll go to lunch with her one day early next week.”
“I have a really busy week coming up.”
“One lunch won’t take up that much of your time.”
Marcus put his head in his hands after Vanessa, with another elaborate sigh and still grumbling under her breath, left the room. Why couldn’t people just be reasonable? It was a good thing this day was nearly over. Between the problems he’d had this morning with a new supplier in Copenhagen, Brenda’s almost insubordination after the meeting with Joanna Spinelli, and Vanessa’s pouts and sighs, he was ready for something different.
Unfortunately, he still had dinner with his mother to look forward to. And with the way his luck was running, she’d have a list of problems she expected him to solve.
Sometimes Marcus just wanted to throw in the towel. Pack a bag and take off for parts unknown.
But he wouldn’t do that, would he?
No, because unlike the women in his life, Marcus didn’t shirk his responsibilities. He’d accepted his path long ago, and he’d follow it to the bitter end. There were no deal breakers for him.
* * *
Although Joanna could hardly wait to give her notice, there was no way she was giving up her day off, so it was Friday morning before she could tell Chick the news.
“Hey, babe,” he said when he sauntered in at ten. Chick was not an early riser.
“I’m not your babe, Chick.” She tossed the empty container from her breakfast of blackberry yogurt into the trash can.
“Ah, come on.” He smiled down at her. “No hard feelings. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
Joanna gave him a look. Friends. What was it with some guys? Did they think they could do anything and you’d still slobber over them? She’d be willing to bet he still believed she’d forget how he’d treated her and jump into the sack with him if he acted the way he wanted her to. “I don’t think we were ever friends,” she muttered.
He acted as if he hadn’t heard her and was already heading into his office.
“There’s an important letter sitting on your desk,” she called after him.
Less than two minutes later, he came stomping out, brandishing the letter, an expression of stunned astonishment on his face. “You’re quitting?”
She smiled sweetly, tamping down the urge to say, Can’t you read English? “Yes, I am.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m deadly serious.”
“Oh, come on, Joanna. I thought we were past all that.”
Joanna sighed. “Chick, this is not about you and me. It’s about me finally getting the chance to do what I’ve always wanted to do.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to be a full-time fashion designer from now on.”
“And you think you can support yourself doing that?”
Joanna had always known he didn’t take her aspirations seriously, and his attitude this morning proved it. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.” Earlier this morning she wasn’t sure if she would tell him about her upcoming show or not. Now she decided he didn’t deserve to know. Let him be shocked when he read about it in the paper or saw it covered on the local news. “Do you want me to call the employment agency or do you want to do it?”
He stared at her. “You’re really quitting.”
She nodded. “Afraid so.”
“Fine,” he sputtered, “but you can forget about this two-weeks bull. You can’t leave until we can find someone else and you can get her trained, no matter how long it takes.”
“I’m sorry, Chick, but that’s not the way it works. Two weeks’ notice is all I’m required to give you.” She almost felt sorry for him. But not sorry enough to give him any more of her precious time than she absolutely had to. After all, it wasn’t as if she needed a reference. She had no intention of ever working at anything but designing clothes again. Besides, knowing him, he would drag his feet forever without a reason not to.
“But that may not be enough time.” Now he sounded panicky. “What if I can’t find someone right away?”
“In that case, I guess you’ll just have to use a temp.”
“A temp? Are you crazy?”
Now it was her turn to stare at him.
Finally he said, “Okay. Okay. Call the agency. And be sure to tell them it’s urgent. Christ, this is the worst possible time of year for you to do this to me.”
Ignoring his grumbling, she said, “What shall I tell the agency about salary?”
He named a figure a good ten percent higher than he was currently paying her. She figured he did it just to piss her off. But she decided not to give him the satisfaction. “I’ll call them right now.”
Half an hour later, she was in the midst of relaying to Chick what the agency had had to say when her cell phone rang. Seeing Barlow International on the caller ID, she said, “Excuse me, Chick. I have to take this call.”
“Miss Spinelli?” the caller said. “This is Judith Holmes. I’m Mr. Barlow’s assistant. He asked me to tell you he has your contract ready and wondered if you could meet him at the gallery sometime this afternoon.”
“The only time I could come would be after work. But I quit at four on Fridays, so I could be there by five o’clock.” The gallery stayed open until six on weeknights.
