All That Glitters. Diana Palmer
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stood up and looked out his office window at the city skyline that reached to the river. His mother’s condition was far more serious than he’d realized. He’d thought she was indestructible, immortal. It had been her confidence in him, her quiet support, that had made it possible for him to rise above their hopeless poverty and make a success of his life. With little more than a good brain and some business sense, he’d made more than two million dollars already. He’d made sure that his mother shared his success, that she lived well. But now all the money in the world wasn’t going to help her. He was helpless, and the fury he felt was spilling into his business life. It infuriated him that he could do nothing for the woman who’d worked herself almost to death providing for her family.
The buzzer sounded twice before it distracted him from his morose introspection. He turned impatiently and pushed the button on his telephone. “Yes?”
“You asked Miss Raines to come and see you, sir.”
“Yes. So I did. Send her in.” He’d had some comments from Harry Lambert, one of his vice presidents, on Miss Raines’s treatment of the younger designers and her stranglehold on the company’s seasonal designs. She was one of the senior designers he’d kept on from the old company. She was, in fact, the senior designer, and about his mother’s age. She reminded him of Teresa Kells—salt-and-pepper hair and no frills, ever.
“Send her in,” he said again curtly.
A minute later, the door opened and his secretary admitted a visibly ruffled Virginia Raines. She was wearing a dark suit with a simple white blouse, probably one of her own designs. He wondered irritably why she didn’t deviate from the same pattern she seemed to use for all her work. He didn’t like dismissing senior staff or demoting them, but Miss Raines was costing him sales. The company was still operating in the red, which was really all that he expected from such a new acquisition; but he’d been hoping for some small rise in sales over the months since his takeover, and it hadn’t been forthcoming.
“Come in and sit down, Miss Raines,” he invited, motioning her into a chair.
“Yes, sir.” She sat primly, her legs to one side, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “If it’s about the new lines, they’re coming along very well, Mr. Kells.”
“They may be. Sales are not,” he said bluntly. He leaned forward, his lean hands on the desk. “We need something exciting for our salesmen to push to the buyers for summer, Miss Raines. Our sales haven’t risen one percentage point since I’ve been here. Our executives and our stockholders are getting worried. I can’t say I blame them. Our competitors are gaining ground with some, shall we say, fairly outlandish designs.”
She flushed a little. “Sir, elegance is still a matter of simplicity. I can’t remind you often enough that frills and fads go out of style as often as they come in.”
“And I can’t remind you often enough that fads are a boon to the industry. As long as women purchase more clothes each season to keep in step, we make money. If we produce only time-honored designs that carry over for several seasons, we bankrupt ourselves.”
She cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “I have been a fashion designer for twenty-five years...”
“And a very good one.” In your day, he wanted to add. He forced a smile. “However, I feel that we need some new blood in our design staff. I want to see some outrageous fashions, Miss Raines, some eye-catching, controversial things that will make the top fashion writers look twice at us. On that note, I asked you here to check on the winner in that design competition we held in the spring. How is she measuring up? I can’t say that I’ve had a single progress report from you since her arrival.”
Miss Raines smiled with faint condescension. “Well, she’s very young, of course—only twenty-two. And the contest was really more of a publicity thing, wasn’t it? I mean, you hardly expect to find a creative genius come from a Texas design school.”
He gave her a hard look, and she squirmed. He didn’t relent. He’d found over the years that when it came to flat intimidation, a wordless glare got more results than volumes of words. He let her squirm some more before he answered the insulting remark.
“I should hardly think it matters where the design school is, if the girl is talented. You sound as if she should never have been hired.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that, sir! It’s just that she’s...causing dissension,” she said firmly. “I don’t dislike her. She’s a hard worker. But she interferes with my models and she’s always trying to put herself forward as a designer. She’s just a sketch designer, and she’s only been with the firm for six months. It’s impossible to let her have a hand in our new lines with so little experience. She’s just twenty-two,” she repeated, to emphasize the age. “Perhaps you could find her another spot, another place in the organization. In another building,” she emphasized.
Curry stared at her curiously. It was highly irregular for an employee to ask him personally to remove another employee. Miss Raines looked more than ruffled. She looked frightened.
“Doing what?”
“She might work well in sales,” she said vaguely.
“You want her removed. Why?”
The question, so deftly fired at her, caught her unawares. She stammered. “Well, she might be happier somewhere else.”
He recognized professional jealousy when he saw it. His gaze narrowed. “The happiness of the staff is hardly a day-to-day concern of mine. Unless you have some tangible evidence of incompetence, you’ll leave her where she is and work out whatever problems you have.” He sat back in his chair, fixing her with that cold stare. “In the meantime, Miss Raines, I want to see some new designs in our spring and summer line, something different and exciting.”
“Mr. Kells, perhaps when you learn a little more about design...” she began with faint condescension.
“Perhaps you should learn a little bit more about spreadsheets and profit,” he returned icily. “If you can’t or won’t ditch your outdated designs and show me something new, then by God, I’ll find someone who can. Do I make myself clear?”
Her face drew up like a prune. She cleared her throat. “I’ll do what I can,” she said, almost choking. The former president of the company had been an elderly man with a kindly attitude toward her work. This barracuda was cut from different cloth.
She rose to her feet. He was dangerous, and she’d realized it just in time; but she couldn’t resist one last gambit. “One more thing, Mr. Kells. Surely you didn’t mean to invite the entire design staff to this party you’re giving?” she asked hopefully.
“I did,” he corrected. “I don’t play power games and I’m no snob. I want everyone connected with the company present. Everyone.”
She shifted restlessly. “Very well, sir.”
He watched her leave, scowling. Odd question. He was still bristling at her tone. Something would have to be done about her. He admired loyalty, but there was such a thing as loyalty being detrimental to profit. Whole families depended on the jobs of his workers. He couldn’t sacrifice them to Miss Raines’s pride.
When the door closed he waited a few moments and then buzzed his secretary. “Rowena, get me the file on that girl who won the design competition we sponsored. Bring it right in.”
“Yes, sir.”
He put down the phone. The interruption had accomplished one thing, he told himself. It had diverted his mind from his own worries.
* * *
THE PENTHOUSE WHERE Curry Kells lived overlooked Central Park. It was big enough to allow for the entertainment of a small army; it took two maids and a valet to keep it in order, and the caterer had brought on additional staff. Lavish tables were spread with platters of caviar and shrimp, dainty savory pastries, vegetable slices and dips, and little cakes and tarts. In addition to the amply supplied bar,