“Dustin, this is perfect.”
Wreathes, some adorned by colorful ornaments, some featuring fat, red velvet bows, dotted the walls. Crystal chandeliers offered refined, golden light. Ceiling swags of fresh evergreen were wound through with white twinkle lights. Heavy, perfectly starched cloths of white, red, and green covered the tables and filled the room with festive color. Each place setting featured red-rimmed white china plates, glimmering flatware and crystal goblets that shone. Fat green candles flickered, perfuming the air with the tantalizing, earthy spice of bayberry.
They chatted informally for a bit, placing drink orders and accepting leather-bound menus from their server. Glasses of white were delivered promptly, along with a basket of fresh-from-the-oven bread sticks which they launched into promptly while continuing to review entrée options.
“I have a question for you.” Dustin tore the oblong twist in half; fragrant steam curled from within. “Do you mind talking a little business?”
A slice of Lillianna’s heart fell to a thud. Business. This lovely dinner engagement was about business? Suddenly her chosen outfit, and attitude, about tonight’s meeting with Dustin spun from romantic to ridiculous.
“Ah, no. I suppose not.”
He paused, reading her, obviously. He set his bread aside and dabbed his fingertips on a napkin before reaching across the table and capturing her hand in a gentle hold. “I don’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just…I’ve got something I’d like to talk to you about, and I want to make sure I’m straightforward with you, so you understand why I—why we—”
He stumbled to a stop.
“I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”
He sighed, and the plaintive way he looked at her threw Lillianna further off balance.
“I’m trying to say I want to know you. I want to know who you are now, how you ended up at Purple Door, how that part of your life came to be. It’s important, vital even, to the person you’ve become.”
Whoa. What in the world? Further confused, Lillianna stared at him for a moment, her heart thudding. Hard. “Come on. We’ve done more than enough talking about me, at the shop and all. I’d rather you take center stage.”
“Please—don’t step away.” His hold on her hand continued. A delicious flutter began in her tummy, and Lillianna melted. “There’s a reason why I’m asking, Lillianna. And it’s a good reason, maybe even an exciting reason, but I want to hear, from you, how it all came to be.” Another slight pause ensued, but then he jumped in. “Tell me about you and Maxine. You teamed up after college?”
“Yes. She opened the shop and I went to work for her. Sometimes I worked on my wood pieces, sometimes I haunted local exhibits and craft shows to recruit new artists or find my own piece of inspiration.”
Dustin listened, attentive, nodding. “That’s the key to survival in the art market. Fresh merchandise is vital to sustainability.”
Lillianna released a soft chuckle, still a bit disquieted by the direction of their conversation. “True words.”
“And, an art shop can’t be dependent on one supplier. It takes variety combined with universal appeal to create longevity.”
“That’s another set of truths about our survival, and the growth of Purple Door. We have at least a dozen people who contribute to the success of the enterprise, and we’re always looking for more. The art world is difficult to read sometimes, and it’s tough to know which artists can provide a steady supply of goods that will sell. It’s about creating sustainability.”
“Spoken like a person who’s not just an artist but a businesswoman.”
“I have to wear both hats. I’d rather just be a straight-up artist, but I learned quickly—thank you, Maxine—that you always need to pay attention to that dreaded bottom line.” Lillianna breathed in the subtle aroma of pine, allowed herself a blissful moment of fantasy-land appreciation when her gaze swept the length of the dining room. “Sometimes, I think people believe creation is as easy and free-flowing as those super-speed Facebook videos. Know the ones I mean?”
Dustin snickered playfully and shot her a grin. “Sorry. I’m more of a Twitter guy.”
“Ha, ha, funny man.” Lillianna warmed to the topic, shifting closer as she dived in. “C’mon. You see them all the time. People share videos online where they demonstrate things like cooking, or baking, or even drawing. The flow of adding ingredients and piecing the elements together seems instantaneous. In one minute and twenty seconds you can have a perfect dish. It’s deceptively effortless and does artists a disservice. Creation is never that easy or flawless.”
“But effort equals results.”
“I suppose. If you’re blessed enough to find opportunity, and a responsive audience.”
“You’ve done that, Lillianna. I know you have.”
A warm flood of feeling overcame her unease.
Dustin continued. “I’ve studied your shop in depth, and—”
Goodbye, warm flood. “What? Studying? My shop?”
Dustin nodded slowly. “Purple Door is on the radar of an investment company I represent. They like what you offer, they like what you do, and they like how you run your business. I’ve been asked to find out if franchising is a possibility you’d consider.”
Lillianna went still. Forced herself to breathe. What was happening right now?
“Oh. My. Goodness.” She shook her head to clear all kinds of unexpected, sticky cobwebs.
“Does the idea appeal to you, or—”
“To be honest, I don’t even know how to react, I—”
“May I take your order?” Their waitress stepped into a conversational void with a kind smile, unaware of the turbulent undercurrents.
“Sure.” Lillianna reacted in a blink, smiling in turn, grateful for a moment to regroup, and assimilate. “I’ll have the cedar planked salmon, please, with brown rice and a side salad.”
While Dustin relayed his choice of filet mignon and baked potato, Lillianna sipped from her wine, trying to still her nerves.
As soon as their waitress departed, he leaned toward her. “At the risk of being repetitious, does the idea appeal to you?” Quiet and intent, he waited.
“Did you think it wouldn’t?” Great stall line, she congratulated herself. Lillianna fingered the stem of her glass, noticing the way fine quivers danced along her fingertips.
“I wasn’t sure. I figured you’d react one of two ways. You’d either welcome the growth that comes with success, or you’d walk away, unwilling to compromise what you’ve built.”
The ‘C’ word left her frowning. “How would I be compromising?”
Dustin shrugged. “Solitary control is given up when a franchise is built. Also, certain levels of production would come into play that wouldn’t be as directly hands-on as you’re used to.”
“But I’m not the only one to consider here. This is Maxine’s baby as much as mine. More so, probably. Purple Door is the means to reach her retirement. Franchising would certainly help her reach that goal—sooner than expected—and it would expose the work of dozens of artists to a broader audience.”
“Especially your wood work. Your designs are captivating, Lillianna.”
She wanted nothing to do with pride, or glory. Rather, she delighted in his sincere tone, the admiring glance he offered. Steeling herself, determined to be strong, she drew a shuddering breath. “I appreciate that, Dustin, thank you. The opportunity is definitely affirming.”
He cleared his throat, resuming a businesslike demeanor. “I want to look into the possibility of taking you to that larger view you mentioned. Well, not just me—me and my team.”
“Team. Explain what you mean by team.” Their food arrived. While they dug in, Lillianna tried to remain composed and not react like a dazzled, naïve little innocent. She wanted to be professional but claiming an opportunity to grow her world as an artist, to share positivity, love, and the truth of God’s power through the messages of her work was a dream come true.
<
br /> “My company will put together a proposal for both of you to review. If you and Maxine accept the terms, you’ll sign on the dotted line, then we’ll work with the investors, with planners, and designers to bring your shop to cities across the country.”
A bristle brush went to work against the nerves of her spine and she straightened in taut retaliation. “But—”
“But part of the process is to make sure Purple Door remains, at its heart, the boutique the two of you created. Otherwise, what would be the point? Right?”
Just like that, Dustin clearly, and accurately, read her reaction. Just like that, she realized a startling truth: he understood the motivation behind Purple Door. And, just like that, bristles morphed into the stroke of velvet. Business man that Dustin was, it pleased Lillianna that a solid heart, a good purpose, remained in place. A trail of gratitude stretched, nudged a reticent heart forward.
The wall flower and the jock. The introvert and the literal homecoming king of Hope Creek High.
Old doubts crept in while their meal continued, but she gave up on the past and pondered the fault line that had sprung to life at her feet. Sure, part of her soul rebelled at the notion of losing control of a boutique that not only sustained but affirmed her. A second, equally strong piece of her soul fed on vindication and hope—not only for her work, but for the work of artists like Paige Miller who counted on the exposure of Purple Door. Their creations would have lasting impact…
Once again seeming to read nuance, Dustin grinned. “So, you’re not going to huff out of the restaurant in immediate refute of the idea?”
Lillianna straightened, met his gaze with an arched-brow stare that she hoped would take him by surprise. “Make no mistake. I care deeply about the work we do. All of us. Me, Maxine, the artists we’ve welcomed into our family. We’d balk at any form of homogenization.”
“And I expect no less.”
He was equally strident—sincere. Lillianna regarded him for a moment, nipping her lower lip for a beat. When they shared smiles, Lillianna relaxed further.
Dustin resumed their talk. “I expect no less, but at the same time, I think we both know there’s a future to consider. I doubt anyone would fail to embrace a fresh path that could be to everyone’s benefit.”
Even if that walk led toward a risky-looking cliff? Or ended before a wide, thrilling, panoramic view with nothing but stretching sky above, green grass to each side, and a crashing ocean far below?
“We need to bring in Maxine, of course,” he said, “but I wanted to take your temperature first. If you refused the idea, I didn’t see the sense in strong-arming anyone to side against you.”
“You’ve always been one of the good guys.”
“It’s my job, and if you move forward, I want it to be good for you.”
Effectively Dustin side-stepped her quietly spoken compliment, and she discovered he wasn’t the only one in the room who could read nuance. Lillianna pretty much knew he wasn’t some saintly hero. Nonetheless, he was being noble. Almost protectively caring.
“Do you think she’d be open to the idea?”
“I couldn’t say for sure, but I can set up a meeting for the three of us.”
“I’d appreciate it, Lillianna.” He reached across the expanse of their square, linen covered table, capturing her hand and holding it in a warm, loose grip. “But I want to be clear about something before anything business related comes to pass—whether you end up franchising or not.”
“What’s that?”
“I admire you.”
Lillianna’s pulse tripped and tumbled. What? “Me? Why?”
“Because you stand out. You stand out in a world where everything else is just a copy. That’s why there’s interest in you, and in what you and Maxine have created at Purple Door. Just think about everything you’ve created. It’s amazing.”
The whole time he spoke, his thumb slid slowly against her wrist, rhythmic, automatic, a gesture he didn’t even seem to be aware of, his focus on his thoughts was so absolute.
“Thank you for that, but the credit belongs to Maxine as well, and our contributors.”
“Of course, but I hope you’ll take ownership, too. Purple Door was founded on your passion and gifts, too, although, please don’t ever stop being sweet. Humble.” The tender caress came to an end, much to Lillianna’s disappointment. Dustin shifted in his green leather arm chair, the one that was a perfect match to Lillianna’s. The atmosphere at Christmas Inn was pitch-perfect. Intoxicating…or perhaps that was the present company she kept? “If you move forward, I want to make sure the investors and developers realize what you share with the world defines the word unique.”
“Is this why you’re…I mean, this dinner…it’s about—”
“Pleasure, Lillianna. It’s about pleasure. It’s about getting reacquainted. It’s business centered, yes, but I want you to know what’s happening, and what’s coming your way. I want to be straightforward with you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“But this is also about an opportunity I want you to take to personally, and very much to heart.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” He appeared genuinely confounded.
Lillianna nodded. “You. What’s this about for you?”
He fidgeted with his stemware. Was he forming words, or an evasion? She just didn’t know. This scenario was entirely out of left field…
“First and foremost, for me, I suppose it’s about protecting you and what you’ve built with Maxine. It’s about making sure no one takes advantage of the unblemished, sweet-hearted person I knew years ago.”
Memories swelled. Moments coalesced into a barometer of their friendship…eleventh-grade English class, the young and vibrant Mrs. Weiss standing at the podium next to her scarred wooden desk.
‘Hey, Lillianna.’
Lillianna peeked over her shoulder, toward the sound of the voice that came from the desk directly behind her. Flutters tickled her chest at the summons. ‘Hey, Dustin.’
When she turned, she realized he wasn’t composing an opening paragraph for their designated English assignment: a three-hundred-word essay about what he dreamed would be his greatest life moment or achievement. For her part, Lillianna couldn’t get past the words she had just committed to permanence across the top sheet of her notebook: To be taken seriously and viewed as the artist I long to be.
‘I’m curious.’
‘About what?’
‘About your name.’
Name? What? And back up the truck—Dustin Farrell was paying attention to her? He noticed her? Lillianna blushed, trembled. Most of all, she longed…
‘What about my name?’
‘Do you realize Lillianna Bennett is a sixteen-letter name that contains just seven letters?’
He wasn’t being mean. His eyes sparkled. He tapped her with his pen, treated her to a wide grin, teasing her into a playful form of engagement…almost, like, flirting?
‘Congratulations. You have awesome math skills.’
‘No, I’m serious. I think it’s amazing. I mean, how many double letters can one name possibly contain?’
‘A lot, I guess, and the name Dustin Farrell has a few double letters as well. Guess we just have to deal with it, right?’
Corniest. Reply. On. Record. But, oh well, and too late for retractions. His answering laugh rolled deep, yet discreet. He appeared to be delighted by her uncharacteristically sassy reply, and sparks took a dance through her nerve endings like the electrical aftereffects of a lightning strike.
It was the first time she had ever sensed he cared about her. A touch of emotional reciprocity. Just like they shared in the here and now.
“God doesn’t move you back. He’s bringing you forward. That’s what’s happening with you right now.” Dustin’s words shook Lillianna free of the memory hold. He gave a short, wry chortle. “My dad preached that axiom all his life.”
“And he was very successful. He must have been doi
ng something right.”
“Yes, he was, and it’s true, but he framed truth in the context of…I don’t know…gain. Gain and the so-called security of success. I was expected to follow the path he paved. Expectation, with the best of intentions. But you emerged on your own. You followed your skills and passion to move forward in life. I admire that.”
Dustin. Admired her. Lillianna could barely wrap her head around the idea.
Dessert arrived, carried to their table by none other than chef Graham Forrester. White jacket in place, he executed a formal presentation of their plates. Rectangles of white chocolate featured artfully jagged edges and red scripting of the words ‘Christmas Inn.’ The succulent pieces were centered within swirling lines of dark chocolate on a pair of delicate china saucers.
“I’d like to present a new offering at our restaurant,” Graham informed. “It was requested for your meal by Dustin. They’re on the house, with love from me and Lydia. Let us know what you think, and I hope you enjoy.”
“What a beautiful gesture.”
“My pleasure,” Dustin replied.
Lillianna studied the confection, tears springing to life with such strength she had to blink hard to keep them from falling. She addressed Dustin with gratitude that he could probably see sparkling in her eyes.
Meanwhile, Graham stood silently by, grinning a Cheshire-cat grin. Heat kissed her cheeks when Lillianna cleared her throat and returned her focus to their generous and gifted chef. “I know this is going to be delicious, Graham. Thank you so much.”
“You’re both more than welcome.”
After Graham took his leave, Dustin looked into Lillianna’s eyes with such tenderness, such intensity, she felt a flood of promise and dizzying magnetism.
“Like I said, Lillianna. See where God has brought you. Forward. Not back.”
No one, ever, had spoken to her with such forceful affection and belief. It was as though Dustin was discovering himself, and, in so doing, prodding her to look in a mirror as well. For them both, it seemed, the process was full of surprises.
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