The Night Before Christmas. Tawny WeberЧитать онлайн книгу.
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 that she’d get taken advantage of. Her friends worried that she was wearing rose-colored glasses. Even her father... Hailey bit her lip. Well, her father barely noticed what she was doing. But every once in a while, he did throw out a caution warning of his own. It wasn’t as if she were Pollyanna with no clue. Hailey was a smart, perceptive woman. She’d made it to twenty-six without a major heartbreak, owned her own business and paid her bills on time. And unlike anyone else in her family, she hadn’t had to resort to therapy and/or addictive substances along the way.
“I’m just saying, you might want to look at your alternatives. Me, I can retire anytime. But the rest of the team, don’t they deserve a little heads-up so they can start looking for new jobs? It’s all well and good to keep your hopes up,” Doris said, her tone indicating the exact opposite. “But you can’t let your Mary Sunshine attitude hurt other people, now, can you?”
“Everything is going to be fine. Why don’t you focus on doing your job and let me do mine,” Hailey snapped, her words so loud and insistent that the other woman dropped her cookie and stared.
She closed her eyes against Doris’s shocked look. Hailey never snapped. In a life surrounded by simmering emotional volcanoes, she worked hard to be calm water. Mellow. Soothing, even. She’d grown up watching the devastation negativity and emotional turmoil caused, had spent her childhood trying to repair the damage.
And, of course, on the oh-so-rare occasions that she did respond to stress with a negative reaction, she always got that same horrified, might-as-well-have-kicked-a-puppy-and-cussed-out-a-nun look from people.
“I’m sorry,” Hailey said with a grimace. “I’m just nervous about the meeting this afternoon. I want to make a good impression, to show Mr. Rudolph and his team that I’m the designer they want.”
“You think the perfect scarf is going to make that dirty old man pick you as his lingerie designer?”
“I think the right look will show him my sense of style and savvy use of color and patterns,” Hailey defended, lifting one scarf and then the other against her neckline again. “How a woman feels about her outfit affects her confidence, after all. If I think I look good, I’ll project a strong image. And that might be all I need to get the deal.”
“You might be a little overoptimistic about business stuff, but you’ve always had a firm handle on how well you put together fashion,” Doris said with a frown. “Silly to start worrying about it now.”
“I really want this contract.” Desperately needed it was closer to the truth. But why put that fine a dot on the subject?
“An exclusive with the Rudolph department stores? It’ll be so cool. The rich and famous shop there. They have a store on Rodeo Drive and everything. Can you imagine Gwyneth Paltrow in Sassy Class?” Hailey said in a dreamy tone, thinking of the pristine white satin chemise with delicate crocheted trim.
“Those highfalutin stars are the only ones who can afford to shop at snobby stores like Rudolph’s.” Doris’s sniff made it perfectly clear what she thought of stars, snobs and all of their money.
“Well, unless you really do want to retire early and spend every day at home with your husband, you better cross your fingers that those snobs take to my designs,” Hailey said, finally choosing the red scarf. It was sassier, she decided as she draped it elegantly around her neck. Frustrated, she wrinkled her nose. At least she was trying for elegant. It was hard when she’d knotted wrinkles into the scarf, so it looked like a soggy, deflated balloon around her neck.
Doris rolled her eyes, then hefted herself out from behind the desk to come over and adjust the scarf. A tug of fabric here, a tuck there, then she jerked her chin to indicate that Hailey turn back to the mirror.
While Doris fussed with the scarf, Hailey obsessed.
What if the other woman was right about it being impossible to come up with the funds to pay off the Phillips note?
What if Hailey’s mother was right about Hailey shooting too high, wanting too much?
What if this was it, her last Christmas as the owner and head designer of Merry Widow Lingerie? What if it was the end of her dream?
“Not gonna happen,” she muttered, lifting her chin to emphasize the promise.
“Whazzat?” Doris peered over her bifocals.
“Nothing,” Hailey assured her in a cheery tone. With a smile to match, she patted the older woman’s shoulder and promised, “Everything’s great. Merry Widow is ready to fly, and this account is going to be our launchpad to make it happen.”
The older woman harrumphed, but her usual grumpy look softened a little as she tucked one of Hailey’s curls back into the faux chignon she’d fashioned at the base of her neck.
“Well, I will say this. If anyone deserves to make those dreams come true, you do.” With that, and a stiff smile, Doris clomped back to her tin of cookies.
That was about the nicest thing Doris had ever said to her. It had to be a good omen, right?
Or the kiss of death.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Hailey stepped into the glass elevator in the center of the Rudolph Building and pushed the button for the top floor. Top floor, baby. Unable to resist, she watched the surrounding buildings of the Financial District as the elevator rose, sighing when the sun broke through the clouds, and off in the distance she could just make out the Golden Gate Bridge. That had to be some kind of sign. Any day that included a meeting with a powerhouse like Rudolph, a pat on the back from Doris and a date with a sexy guy like Gage couldn’t go wrong. Hailey practically skipped out of the elevator.
Still, she paused outside the frosted-glass double doors. One hand pressed to her stomach to calm her nerves, she took a deep breath. A quick glance at her feet to peek at her Jeffrey Campbells worked as a reminder that everything went better when a girl wore great boots. Then, resisting the urge to fluff her curls into frizz and nibble at her lipstick, she called up her brightest smile and pulled open the door.
This was it.
Her first foray into fashion fabulousness and the beginning of the best day of her life. A prelude, maybe, to the best night of her life.
With that peppy chant playing in her head, she swept into Rudolph Headquarters.
“Hailey, darling.” Jared greeted her as soon as she crossed the foyer. He hurried around the high counter where he’d been chatting with the receptionist to offer a hug.
Hailey shifted, suddenly nervous.
“Hi, Jared. What’s up?” He looked normal enough. Metro chic in his electric-blue suit and skinny tie, his hair slicked to the side and quirky horn rims perched on the bridge of his nose. But he was all tense, as if someone had just told him shoulder pads and moon boots were about to make a comeback.
“Up? Nothing, nothing. C’mon, let me escort you to the meeting. Rudy isn’t in yet, of course. But you can get settled. I’ll fetch you a nice latte, shall I?”
Hailey’s stomach sank. Now she knew something was wrong. Jared didn’t fetch for anybody. She slowed, all but digging the spikes on the heels of her boots into the plush carpet to make Jared slow, too.
“Seriously. If something’s happened...” She swallowed hard, then forced herself to continue. “If I’ve lost the account, I’d rather know before I go in that meeting.”
Quick as a flash, a grimace came and went. Not a small feat considering the amount of Botox injected in that pretty