Invitation to the Boss's Ball. Fiona Harper
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‘I wish we could give them away. However, we’ve worked out a plan with Jennie. We’d set very reasonable reserve prices on all the pieces—similar to what we’d get if we were selling them one-by-one on the stall. As each piece is auctioned off we’ll keep the reserve price, and anything that is bid over that will go to charity.’
‘What if the reserve isn’t met—or all the clothes only just reach the set figure?’
‘Jennie suggested my business partner, Coreen, should be the auctioneer. She’s extremely knowledgeable, and believe me, she could sell mink coats to…well, minks.’
A loud and unexpected snort of a laugh erupted from the earpiece of the phone.
‘Alice,’ he said, his tone still full of warm laughter, ‘you always did have a very singular way of looking at things.’
Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Had she just blown it?
‘With Coreen doing the talking you’ll have more than enough to donate to charity, I promise.’
‘If this Coreen is anything like you say she is, I don’t doubt it.’
‘And Jennie said you’d put in a hefty donation yourself.’
‘Did she, now?’
Alice winced. ‘Yes.’
Coreen’s Closet could handle giving the extra money to one of the local children’s charities because they’d be shifting a whole lot of stock in one go—and, even better, they’d be attracting the attention of a lot of well-to-do potential customers. The free publicity would be fantastic. With the extra money in their account, and the press coverage, she and Coreen might just be able to twist the arm of their business manager at the bank to give them a loan for the rest of the capital needed to lease and outfit a small shop.
‘If we do this right, this won’t just be another party—same drinks, same faces, same canapés. It will be something truly memorable. Each piece of vintage clothing we sell is unique, one of a kind. For those that buy at the auction, every time they wear that jacket or carry that handbag they’ll remember your company and think one of a kind. Even those that don’t buy anything will have their memories jogged when they turn on the TV and catch an old movie, or see a poster in a shop display. They’ll be instantly transported back to the elegant and original night when you opened your new offices and your company started a new chapter in its history. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? For the event to be distinctive, because then it will be remembered.’
Alice had now run out of words, and she had the sense that adding to them with empty silence-fillers would just be a mistake. So she closed her mouth and stared out of the kitchen window into the dark evening sky, waiting for Cameron’s response.
Suddenly his good opinion—of her, of her hopes and dreams—mattered. She held her breath.
‘Okay, Alice. You’ve got a deal. I like the idea.’
Alice was very glad Cameron didn’t have a video phone, because she took that moment to do a silent victory dance around the kitchen.
‘I understand you’re going to liaise with Jennie about the party, and she’s going to keep me in the loop. Do you really think you can pull this off in four weeks?’
Alice was tempted to hyperventilate. She was so far out of her depth it wasn’t funny. ‘Of course,’ she said.
‘I look forward to seeing you then. Sorry to have interrupted your evening, but I was intrigued by what Jennie had told me and I wanted to find out more immediately. I’ve always found it helps to put the brakes on before she gets too carried away. Sometimes her ideas just don’t pan out. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to…whatever you were doing.’
‘It’s fine. I wasn’t really…’
She knew she should just say goodbye gracefully and put the phone down, but she didn’t.
‘You know, Alice, I always thought you had it in you to surprise everyone.’
That was possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.
Oh, her clients gushed occasionally about her, but, to be honest, they’d have sainted anyone who could have got their e-mail going again when an IT disaster struck. And not only was Cameron saying nice things, he was saying them in his lovely voice. She could have listened to it all evening.
‘Thank you, Cam.’
He chuckled. ‘Cam…I don’t think anyone but Jennie calls me that any more.’
‘Sorry…Cameron.’ She frowned. ‘What do people call you, then?’
‘Oh, Your Highness pretty much works for me.’
Now it was Alice’s turn to laugh.
‘See you in four weeks, Alice.’
And then he was gone.
She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. This evening was getting progressively more surreal.
She cradled the phone to her chest as she slipped off the kitchen stool and wandered down the hallway to replace it on its base.
She made her way upstairs and pulled a book off her shelf, intending to read at least five chapters while soaking herself in a very hot bath. And as she threw her clothes onto the bed and pulled on her comfy old dressing gown, the slightly crumpled photo that had been lying facedown on the duvet fluttered to the floor and hid itself under the bed.
‘Moon River’ chimed from Alice’s pocket as her mobile vibrated. In an effort to contort herself into a position whereby she could reach it, she whacked her head on the underside of the desk she’d been crawling under. There was a muffled snicker from somewhere else in the office.
Finally she got her phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello.’
That one simple word, said in a calm, deep, velvety voice, set Alice’s heart-rate rocketing. Why did his voice make her think of log fires and thick hot chocolate?
‘Cameron?’ Oh, flip. Did that nauseating little squeak of a voice belong to her? She cleared her throat.
‘Alice, we have a problem.’
We? Had he just said we?
‘We do?’
She heard a muffled shuffling sound, as if he was pacing around. ‘My ridiculous stepsister has decided to…decided to…elope! I knew she was acting strangely, but…’
Did modern-day women still elope? Alice wasn’t sure. Didn’t that only happen to corsetwearing heroines in historical novels? Either way, it was wildly romantic. She drifted off into a little daydream about carriages, hooded velvet capes and moonlight.
However, Cameron’s voice sliced through her fantasy. ‘No Jennie means no ball. Which means no fashion show.’
That’s right. Break it to me gently, Cameron.
Was she mistaken, or was there a hint of imperious displeasure in his tone?
Anyway, the fashion show couldn’t be off. She and Coreen had already planned what to do with the money. They’d set their hearts on being in a shop by February. Without the income and publicity from the show, they might have to wait until the following year.
Alice thought of the market fashion shows, how all the traders pulled together and made it happen.
‘ I can do it. I can organise the fashion show.’
Had she really just said that? A market fashion show, with people’s sisters and cousins as models, was a bit different from the kind of upmarket affair Jennie had been planning.
There was a split-second pause before Cameron said, ‘I like your fighting spirit,