The Night Before Christmas: Naughty Christmas Nights / The Nightshift Before Christmas / 'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Tawny Weber
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swaths of billowing silk, yards of lace and spilling bins of roses and romantic trim.
Only Doris would look at that and say it was wrong.
Hailey peered past her reflection to the woman behind her.
Doris Danson, or D.D. to her friends—which meant Hailey called her Doris—looked as if she were stuck in a time warp.
Rounded and a little droopy, her white hair was bundled in a messy bun reminiscent of a fifties showgirl. Bright blue eye shadow and false lashes added to the image. Doris’s workday uniform consisted of polyester slacks, a T-shirt with a crude saying by a popular yellow bird and an appliqué holiday sweater complete with beribboned dogs, candy canes and sequin-covered trees.
The sweater and tee didn’t bother Hailey. But as a designer, she was morally offended at the elastic-waisted polyester. Doris knew that. Hailey had a suspicion that the older woman haunted thrift stores and rummage sales to stock up on the ugly things.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Hailey said.
Not really. But she couldn’t meet her secretary-slash-seamstress-slash-bookkeeper’s gaze.
Despite her afterglow, she was kind of freaked out. She’d made out with a potential business associate. Now, granted, associate was a pretty loose term. But she was still walking a moral line here. Should Gage be off-limits? Maybe she shouldn’t be obsessing over that kiss. Hailey bit her lip, chewing off the lip gloss she’d just slicked on five minutes ago.
“Might want to eat something besides your lipstick. Not like they feed you at these fancy meetings. Why you think it’s a good idea to go talk to this guy after he burned you is a mystery, though.”
“Mr. Rudolph didn’t burn me. He’d never offered an actual contract. I’m sure I’ll still get the exclusive. It’s just going to be a little more interesting now.” Jared and Trent wouldn’t have praised her designs like they had if they didn’t think she had the contract in the bag. And Hailey had a secret weapon now. A very sexy, very delicious one she was meeting for dinner.
“Interesting. Right. Instead of getting a solid deal you expected, you get to play some rich man’s game.” The wheels of her chair creaked as Doris shifted. The woman was barely visible behind the stacks of paper, catalogs and the tiny ceramic Christmas tree on her desk. Too bad she wasn’t barely audible, too. “And where are you going to be when that other guy walks off with the contract? On the street, that’s where.”
Turning to give Doris a chiding look, Hailey insisted, “It’s going to be fine. I’m going to get this deal.”
Doris tut-tutted. “I’m telling you, Hailey, you are wasting your time. Better to accept reality than to keep dragging this out.”
Hailey hated reality.
Especially when Doris dished it up with such bitter relish. It was as if she reveled in negativity. Hailey shifted her gaze from her own image to the woman behind her.
What a contrast.
Preparing for the meeting, Hailey was dressed in business chic. A black leather mini paired with leopard-print tights, a black silk turtleneck and a brushed cotton blazer with satin lapels. Along with her favorite boots and black knee-high schoolgirl socks, the look was savvy, sassy and modern. Just right for wowing a department-store tycoon and a fashion powerhouse.
And behind her was the elf of Christmas gloom.
An elf that knew the business inside and out, could finagle suppliers’ fees down to pennies, worked magic with the books and, next to Hailey, was the best fill-in seamstress Merry Widow had ever seen. Which made her indispensable.
Indispensable gloom.
Not for the first time, she wished she were the kind of person who could tell Doris that her bad attitude wouldn’t be tolerated and suggest the woman get her act together or clear out her desk.
But every time Hailey thought about doing it, she thought of everything the woman brought to the company. Then she remembered how lousy Doris’s home life was, how Merry Widow was all she really had.
And whenever the older woman pissed her off so much that she forgot all that, the minute she got ready to get in her face, Hailey’s tongue swelled up, her head buzzed with panic and she freaked out.
It wasn’t that she was a wimp. She was a fierce negotiator in business, a savvy designer who insisted her company be run her way. She was smart. She was clever. She was strong.
She just sucked at confrontation.
Partially because her father had once told her that arguments always left scars. That even after making up, the memory of the conflict would forever change the relationship. Given that his advice had come on the heels of a hideous family drama that’d cost Hailey a whole year away from her new half brother, she’d taken the lesson to heart.
But mostly because she hated making people mad at her. Her mom had got mad and left her dad. Her dad got mad and refused to talk to Hailey. She’d seen plenty of mad in her life. Which was why she tried to avoid it like the plague.
“You want one of these cookies?” Doris asked, a frosted reindeer in hand. Doris shot Hailey a sour smile, bit the head off, then said around her mouthful, “Might as well eat up now, since things are gonna get tight after we go out of business.”
“We’re not going out of business,” Hailey insisted, lifting a cream lace scarf to her shoulder to compare, then switching to one of vivid red cashmere.
“Right. Bet you still believe in Santa Claus, too.”
“We’re not going out of business,” she said again. “Our sales are up ten percent over last year. Our projected first quarter should double that, easily.”
“The Phillips kids are calling their daddy’s note the first of the year,” Doris reminded her like a persistently cheerful rain cloud.
Rotten kids. Or, really, greedy adults.
When Hailey had bought Merry Widow Lingerie from Eric Phillips three years ago, they’d agreed that he’d take a percentage of the profits for five years, with a final payment of the agreed-upon balance at the end of that time. When he’d died in the fall, though, his kids had found a loophole in the contract, insisting that they could call the entire debt. They’d given Hailey until the end of the year, which was mighty big of them, in their opinion.
Without a significant contract the size of, oh, say Rudolph department stores, the bank wouldn’t consider a loan in the sum the Phillipses were demanding.
Just thinking about it made Hailey’s stomach churn, an inky panic coating the back of her throat.
No. She put the mental brakes to the freak-out. She wasn’t going there. She’d found her answer; she just had to believe in it. She was going to snag this Rudolph-department-store contract.
Negative thinking, even the kind that had her second-guessing her date tonight, would only drag her down.
Giving her reflection a hard-eyed stare, Hailey vowed that she was going to rock this meeting and wow her date. As long as she didn’t strip him naked and nibble on his body, she wasn’t crossing any ethical work-relationship boundaries. Right?
Right.
Now she just had to get Doris off her back.
“When I pull in this department-store deal, we’re golden. I can pay off the note, Merry Widow will be mine free and clear, and we’ll be set,” she assured the other woman.
“Do you bake special cookies to set out for Santa, or are you comfy settling for store bought? And those stars that fall from the sky, how many of those wishes actually come true for you?” Doris gave a pitying shake of her head. “You listen to me, miss. You keep going through life with your head in the clouds like you do, you’re gonna fall in a big ole ditch one of these days.”
What was it with the people in her life? Her mother was always warning