Fashionably Late

by Olivia Goldsmith

  What did Bill have to tell her? She was nervous. Her fight with Jeffrey had unnerved her. She hated to be at odds with him. She felt jeopardized now. She felt like a package being delivered. The silence was getting to her. ‘Bill seems to like to brand things and screw them to the wall,’ Karen commented aloud to the driver. The moment she said it, she could have bitten her tongue. But in the rearview mirror, the driver’s eyes didn’t even blink.

  ‘We’ll be there in a moment,’ was all he said. ‘Mr Wolper will be waiting for you.’ The driver pulled to the curb, was out, and had the door opened before Karen had time to realize she’d been politely chastised. But when she herself got out of the car she did take a moment to look over the driver’s well-cut gray suit and cap to see if it, too, bore the brand of the double ‘W’. It didn’t, but that didn’t reassure her.

  She straightened her skirt and at the same time tried to surreptitiously wipe her damp palms. What have I got to be so scared about? she asked herself, and walked down the two shallow steps to the restaurant door, where she was greeted by Andre and ushered through the chic and tiny dining room hung with a priceless Gobelin tapestry to the less formal glass-roofed garden in the back. She smiled at Sherry Lansing, the head of Paramount Pictures and a client for many years, who was lunching with Demi Moore, not a client. Karen also recognized one of the Kaufman brothers, a real estate billionaire and friend of the Kahn family. This was clearly a power lunch place, though Karen had only been here for dinner.

  Bill Wolper was already sitting at a corner table waiting for her. He rose as she approached, although she noticed that he didn’t move to help her into her chair; he let Andre do that. She also noted that he sat in the corner while she had to have her own back to the rest of the room. Was that the done thing? She began to be sure that she didn’t like him. But then Bill smiled at her. Thank you for coming at such short notice,’ he said, and sounded so sincere that she felt as if he might actually be apologizing. He turned to Andre and raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Do you know Karen Kahn?’ he said. ‘She was on “The Elle Halle Show” this week.’ Then he turned to Karen. ‘I suggest we put ourselves in Andre’s capable hands.’

  Andre glowed. ‘May I suggest the homard? We only have a few and I am serving them cold, in halves, as a salad to begin.’

  Bill looked over at her ‘Would you like the lobster?’ he asked, as if she might need translation. She couldn’t decide if it was protective or condescending.

  ‘Je voudrais le homard, mais pas maintenant, merci. Une salade verte seulement, et après la salade, le homard, s’il vous plaît.’ She smiled at both Andre and Bill Wolper. ‘Je n’ai pas faim d’habitude au déjeuner,’ she lied. ‘Jamais,’ Actually, she was starving, but it was best to keep it light.

  ‘Je comprends, Madam. Moi aussi.’ Andre agreed. He turned to Bill. ‘Et pour vous?’

  Bill Wolper cleared his throat, perhaps a bit discomfited. Good. Karen suppressed a grin.

  ‘I’ll have the same,’ Bill Wolper said. He looked at Karen. ‘A Chardonnay?’

  Karen thought of Defina’s Merlot and her subsequent hangover. God, she didn’t need any wine today, and the thought of a white wine made her ill. ‘I know it isn’t done, but I prefer a red, even with lobster.’

  ‘Nous avons un Bordeaux supérieur,’ Andre suggested to her.

  But, ‘Why don’t we start with the Chardonnay?’ Bill said smoothly, and Andre, remembering himself, nodded quickly and departed.

  Karen blinked. The guy was clearly a control freak. She wondered, for a brief moment, whether she should insist on the Bordeaux but decided against it. First she’d wait and see what kind of an offer – if any – was forthcoming. She felt flutters in her stomach and tried to look calmly across the table, though she was made very uncomfortable by having her broad back exposed to the rest of the room. She wondered how often Bill might have brought women here and sequestered them in this way. And how many patrons were noticing who Bill Wolper was lunching with.

  “The Elle Halle Show”’ was terrific,’ Bill said. ‘And you got great coverage for the Elise Elliot wedding,’ he added approvingly. ‘It must be great to see your ideas perform.’

  Karen blinked. He was right, and he’d put it well. It had been great. ‘Did you like her dress?’

  ‘I like the coverage. Nowadays a designer has to be linked with celebrities. Most of them must have some movie star show up at one of their shows. You know, they hire a model to get her boyfriend to show. Big deal. What you did was a stroke of genius. Elise Elliot! She’s popular with older women but she’s also seen as hip. Younger women admire her. She’s got class and cash and cachet. She could be to you what Audrey Hepburn was to Givenchy. How did you engineer it?’ he asked.

  Karen wondered if she should try to pretend it had been masterminded for months, but couldn’t pull it off. ‘She just asked me to do it,’ she shrugged. ‘It was a risk, but the dresses all came out well.’

  ‘You got a People cover! I’d say that was “coming out well,”’ Wolper laughed. ‘I saw it and I wondered if you did it simply to drive our price up.’

  Karen smiled at him. Was he kidding? She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. That seemed to be fine with Wolper, who continued. ‘A funny thing about being involved with fashion in business. It’s made me have to learn to understand women.’ He grinned. ‘It isn’t easy,’ he said. ‘I liked a lot of what you said in our office last week, but I didn’t agree with you. I know all about that stuff – how women want comfortable, wearable clothes. But I don’t think that is what women want. At least that’s not what they’re looking for when they go shopping.’ He paused. ‘You know what they’re looking for?’ He leaned forward and looked deep into Karen’s eyes. Mesmerized by his concentration, she shook her head. ‘They’re looking for adventure,’ he said. ‘They’re looking for hope. They’re looking for escape.’

  ‘I didn’t know the mall was that exciting,’ Karen wisecracked, uncomfortable, but Bill didn’t laugh.

  ‘You think I’m joking?’ he asked. ‘I’m not talking about your private clients. The Elise Elliots have other outlets. But think about most women’s lives. Helping the kids get dressed. Packing school lunches, dropping two off at the school bus and one at day care. Getting in to the bank or the insurance office to spend a day over a word processor or a computer terminal or a file drawer. Trying not to think about how old she’s getting, how disappointed she is in her husband, how long it’s been since anyone looked at her legs, or looked in her eyes. Avoiding the home truth that no one may ever look into her eyes again. Then stopping at the convenience store, picking up one of the kids, dropping off another, getting dinner on the table while she throws a wash into the machine. Eating in silence with her husband while the kids talk about their day. Maybe a quick vacuum after dinner and an hour of TV once the kids are asleep. Routine sex, or, most likely, no sex at all. And trying not to worry about the Mastercard bill. Trying not to mind her husband, sleeping in the same undershirt for the second night in a row, and snoring. You know why that woman shops? You know what she is looking for?’

  Still mesmerized, Karen shook her head.

  ‘Hope. The hope that a pair of blue snakeskin pumps will change her life. The hope that a rayon dress might fix something that’s gone wrong for her, or at least make her feel better for a few minutes when she first slips it on. The dream that the name on a label conjures up: that if she buys a Karen Kahn she’ll be like Karen Kahn, have a life like Karen Kahn’s.’

  Uncomfortable, Karen barked out a laugh. All her visits to Macy’s, her time in the malls of America, made her believe that Bill might be at least partially right. But the idea made her uncomfortable. ‘My life’s not that great,’ she said.

  ‘It is to the readers of People magazine. That woman I’m talking about will feel guilty for doing it, but she’ll spend thirty-nine dollars for a bottle of eau de parfum with the right name on it, and she’ll rub that toilette water on as if it were going to do m
agic’

  ‘But what happens when it doesn’t do magic?’ Karen asked. ‘What happens when it doesn’t change her life?’

  ‘That’s the beauty part: she buys another brand. Better than giving up hope.’ Bill laughed.

  Karen felt a little dizzy. But then she remembered Casey’s market research. ‘Most perfume is bought by men as gifts for women,’ she said. ‘Two-thirds of it is sold at Christmas.’

  ‘You’re a smart girl. But it doesn’t change my position at all. That poor woman’s husband doesn’t know who she is or what she wants. But he can guess who she would like to be. So he buys the dream in a bottle. Same difference.’

  The sommelier returned with the Chardonnay and poured a bit into Bill’s glass. He picked it up, sipped, and approved. Karen’s own glass was then filled but she stubbornly didn’t make a move toward it. Passive resistance. The hell with him and his theories about women and his wine bullying. She was fascinated by him, but repelled. He was smart and powerful and maybe even right, but it didn’t make her like him.

  Left to themselves again, Bill continued. ‘You are perfectly positioned to sell that dream, Karen. Your name, your image, has got a huge recognition factor, and the consumer associates it with class, with a toughness that’s down to earth yet has urban glamour, with savvy. It’s a uniquely nineties positioning. You’re growing like crazy, but in a small, undercapitalized company, growth can be dangerous. You know what I mean: more sales means more piece goods, more piece goods means more debt, more debt means more interest, more interest means less profits. Or even no profits. You know, Karen, any schmuck can run a small company, but it takes real balls and talent to turn a small company into a big one. There’s almost no room for error.’ Bill Wolper leaned forward to her. ‘Karen, I think you and I are the same kind of people. We’ve got balls and talent. So let me tell you what I think. I know I’m long overdue in getting our offer to you, but it wasn’t out of lack of interest. I hope it wasn’t interpreted that way.’

  Karen shook her head, as if Jeffrey hadn’t been getting bleeding ulcers over it. As if they weren’t going to run to the bank with the offer and try to raise more cash. Was Bill talking about Jeffrey when he said any schmuck could run a small company?

  ‘I took a long and careful look both at your husband’s numbers and at the report Herb put together with Basil’s help.’ Bill paused.

  Oh God, she thought, she was getting busted. She should have brought Jeffrey. Was Wolper going to reject her right here, right now? Well, then the whole thing would be over. It would be a relief in a way, but she was glad there would be no witnesses to this. She tried to smile, though her lips were dry and her upper one stuck to her front tooth. Still, she was determined not to drink the Chardonnay. ‘So?’

  ‘So, I’m prepared to make you an offer, but I want you to understand that I’m making it only to you. Because you’re the heart of this deal, Karen. NormCo would like to purchase you for fifty million dollars.’

  Karen felt the blood leave her face while her stomach seemed to simultaneously both cramp and float into her chest. Had she heard him right? Fifty million! That was more than twice what Jeffrey had first guessed. My God! How much money was that? Had she heard right? What was wrong with this picture? She grabbed the stem of the Chardonnay glass and took three big gulps. ‘I see,’ was all she managed. She wished she had played cards all those years with Perry, Jeffrey, and their gang, so she could be assured of a poker face right now. Instead she merely nodded.

  ‘I want you to understand that we’ve been through all your numbers with a fine-toothed comb, and I’ve discounted the bullshit inventory. In fact, I’ve discounted mostly everything. Your people overestimated or overvalued it all – except the goodwill. And that they undervalued. Big time.’ He waited, as if he wanted that news to sink in. ‘Karen, I’m being blunt, but I believe if were’re going to get into bed together we have to begin honestly. I need you personally to understand that I’m not paying fifty million dollars for your organization or for your PR or your sales projections or your overvalued, mostly worthless inventory. I’m paying it for you.’

  What the hell did that mean? Was he making a pass at her? Was that part of the deal? She was speechless. Well, she hadn’t worked with stupid but successful models all these years for nothing. She knew how to look good and keep her mouth shut. Karen took another sip of Chardonnay and then put the glass down firmly. Pull yourself together, she then told herself. This is no time for booze. What, exactly was going on?

  ‘I think we both know where you overvalued your company, but let me tell you specifically where you undervalued it. I don’t think that even you have any idea of your potential. Potential, Karen. What excites me is potential. And talent. Talent and vision. Well, potential, talent, vision, and discipline.’ Bill laughed. ‘Quite a list, really. Qualities that are hard to find individually and almost impossible to find in a single package. You have all four, and I can see that. What J can do is give you the keys to the kingdom. I am the gatekeeper to what will become your empire. I can envision it, and I know that you can.’

  Well, she understood that. Thank God, Wolper was strictly business. But then he reached out and put his hand over hers, which was still cold from the chilled Chardonnay. His was warm, radiating heat. ‘You’re someone I can really move fast with. I’ve been looking for you for some time,’ Bill told her.

  Was there a double entendre here, Karen wondered. Now she had to say something, but in the back of her head it seemed as if there was a chorus of a hundred thousand little children dancing up and down singing, ‘Fifty million dollars! Fifty million dollars!’ They sounded a lot like the Small World dolls she’d once taken Tiff to see in Disney World. Despite the mental noise, Karen managed to top his hand with her own. ‘I want to say how complimented I am by your faith in me,’ she told him. ‘Thank you for that. I’m really touched.’ And she was. Maybe this was just Bill Wolper bullshit but it sure seemed to work. He wasn’t simply offering to buy her out. He was talking about creating something together. She felt dizzy as a wave of gratitude washed over her. This man was mega-powerful, it seemed as if he really believed in her, and he was willing to put his money where his mouth was.

  The waiter returned with their green salads and Wolper freed his hand to pick up a fork. In her whole life, Karen had never felt less like eating. Perhaps this was the secret to successful dieting: just get offered fifty million bucks before each meal. Simple but effective. She looked down at the plate of greens in front of her. It would be impossible to get them into her mouth, chew them, and then swallow. She could as easily throw her legs up onto the table and give birth. God, she was giddy. Was it the wine or the money?

  She knew she didn’t want to sell her company, but it was surprisingly nice to be asked. And to find she was so highly valued.

  Then she realized with a jolt that there was no way Jeffrey would let her turn down this offer. The singing in her head abruptly stopped. She’d been firm that she wasn’t selling, knowing that an offer did not necessitate a sale. But she’d have to take Jeffrey’s advice now. He had made this happen. It was more money than either of them had dreamed of, and he had engineered it.

  Still, how on top of things had her husband really been? Bill was saying that Jeffrey had undervalued their worth by more than a hundred percent. Hadn’t Wolper seen through Jeffrey’s tricks and just told her what a bad team she had? How they didn’t see or value the real asset – her? And so what good were her husband and Robert-the-lawyer at this game? Jeffrey, in his defense, had never sold a business before, but shouldn’t Robert have prepared both of them for this?

  Well, there were no free lunches. She knew that. She’d played with fire and now she’d be burned. Fifty million dollars was an offer she couldn’t refuse. But what exactly would she have to give up? How much autonomy? What would change with the buyout? ‘How do you see us working together?’ she asked.

  ‘Very closely,’ Bill told her.

  Karen wond
ered exactly what he meant. ‘You know, I’m not really very egocentric. Do you believe me?’

  ‘Yes. It’s one of your strengths. But you are very ambitious,’ Wolper smiled. ‘I understand the difference. I know a lot about you.’

  Just then the waiter brought the lobster halves, complete with beautiful homemade mayonnaise that bore no resemblance to the stuff in the Hellmann’s jar. Karen picked up a piece of the lobster, dipped it in the mayo, and swallowed a bite. She didn’t taste a thing. ‘It’s an exciting idea,’ she said. ‘So let me ask you a question. You see what our profit picture looks like. You must have known we would take a lot less. Why the fifty-million-dollar offer?’

  Bill was as direct as she was. ‘I’m not a charity,’ he said, ‘but an acquisition like this is like a marriage. You’ll be useless to me if you’re unhappy, if you don’t or can’t deliver, if you feel sulky or cheated or depressed. Cynics will say I’m just buying your name, but if that were true, I would have given you a low-ball offer. I want you,’ he said. ‘And that means an exclusive contract for twelve years. You work for me or no one.’ He paused. ‘By the way, don’t think we’ll pay a penny more. We won’t. Now Herb will negotiate the shit out of your husband and the rest of your team. They’ll ask for more. We’ll refuse. We’ll ask for a lot, and then back off on a few points. But it’s all smoke: it’s just your exclusivity that isn’t negotiable. I wanted you to know that. The bait is all that cash and stock up front. That, and your belief that I share your vision. Then you have to accept the exclusivity contract. Those are the terms.’