by Annora Green
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual locales, persons living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by A.J.G.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical (with the exception of brief excerpts in critical articles and reviews) without permission in writing from the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9991116-1-1
First published in the United States of America in June 2017.
Cover and book design: A.J.G.
Artwork designed by: visnezh / Freepik
Green Lane Press
Holland, Michigan
www.greenlanepress.com
For my family, who have always supported me.
To Alex, who encouraged me.
& for everyone who dreams of a happy ending.
Table of Contents
1. Forbidden
2. Battle with the Barista
3. Cooling Off
4. Inside
5. Strawberry Turnovers
6. Family Business
7. What Happens in Vegas
8 …Stays in Vegas
9. Dreams
10. Wine County
11. Dinners
12. Exchanges
13. France
14. Fallen
15. Home
Epilogue
About the Author
1. Forbidden
It was the height of the Christmas shopping season, but the holiday was the furthest thing from Sophia Black’s mind.
She had debuted her spring collection only last month at a show, and the attention surrounding this particular collection - a spectacular one, if she did say so herself - was more than her work had ever received before.
Downstairs, she could hear the bell on the door chime over and over and the din of conversation and laughter. It was the last full weekend before Christmas, which fell on a Friday this year, much to the chagrin of most in retail. However, Sophia barely paid the buzz any notice, confident that her shop manager, Elle, would keep everything under control as she always did. Instead, Sophia lurked upstairs in her office, focused on writing notes to herself for her upcoming lines in one of the many little black leather notebooks that lined a shelf under her window. When she was done with that, Sophia went through photos that had been taken at a recent shoot, then clicked through the tabs in her spreadsheets that listed endless prices and margins for her clothing line in the months ahead, and glanced at a calendar showing the magazine writers and fashion bloggers who would be calling to talk with her about her collection and her successful online store in the upcoming two weeks.
There was a headache brewing in the area right around her temple, and she suspected that she had not had more than 8 hours of sleep in the past five days combined. She craved coffee, but her espresso machine, which she had imported from Italy only last summer, had broken earlier that week. She was grateful that it was Saturday. Her small team of designers and assistants normally worked in the upstairs studio near her office, chatting until all hours of the day (or night, depending on their deadlines), but she had tried to give her team a bit of time off on weekends this month so they could actually have something that resembled a normal work schedule around the holidays.
She glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch. She had 14 minutes remaining until her phone call with the journalist fromThe Cut, an important fashion industry magazine. It was supposed to be for a small write-up about the collection that she just debuted, but it was important, as Sophia had been hoping to catch the attention of the magazine for a while. They had significant influence in the industry.
Elle had brought up coffee earlier, something she picked up on her drive in to work, but it was from a mass chain of coffee shops and Sophia was less than impressed. Needless to say, she had no time to run out and grab a decent cup at her favorite place, which was at least 10 minutes’ drive away (with no traffic).
Just then, she heard a hammering noise coming from outdoors, drifting up from the sidewalk. A lowthud, thud, thud.
“What is that?” She asked no one in particular, tossing her sad cup of coffee into the trash and standing up, her black heels tapping across the polished dark wood floors.
She looked down at the sidewalk outside of the window of her second floor office.
Outside of the storefront next to her, a group of two men and one blonde woman was constructing what appeared to be a wooden platform. A patio of some sort.
Sophia let out an impatient sigh.
“Not now. Not whenThe Cut is calling in...” she was still talking to herself out loud, gritting her teeth as she checked her watch again “...11 minutes.”
She grimaced as the banging grew louder, the sound seemingly reverberating directly in her temple. Voices trailed up from the sidewalk, accompanied by laughter. Who were these people, anyways? A “For Rent” sign had been outside of the brick storefront for at least three months after the last business had closed up shop. Someone new must have finally moved in.
Not only was the noise a disaster for her phone interview - she required the utmost silence for concentration, especially for such a high-visibility opportunity likeThe Cut - but it was also bad for her shop’s business downstairs. She strove to provide her clientele a relaxed, calm, sophisticated environment in which to browse. The types of shoppers her store attracted enjoyed peace and quiet as they looked through her lace and silk pieces, calmly tried on satin robes and allowed themselves to be swept away by her soft, sexy collection of lingerie. If they needed assistance, the sweet, soft-spoken Elle would be there for them to make intelligent suggestions and direct them to the pieces they desired.
It was not supposed to be an experience marred by loud noise and racket that they could get while shopping at any average department store or chain retailer with obnoxious pop music and harsh lighting.
She began to pace, her phone in hand, the ear buds positioned in her ears, waiting for the call, hoping that the incessant hammering from outside would at least not be able to be heard over the phone.
One minute before the set meeting time, her phone rang.
“This is Sophia Black,” she answered coolly on the second ring, settling into her designer cream-colored desk chair, crossing her legs under her dark, polished mahogany desk.
The hammering outside continued. Sophia grabbed an apple that she had put on her desk earlier in case she wanted a snack and gripped it like a stress ball.
On the phone was the one of the magazine’s most well known writers.
“Ah, Christine. So wonderful to speak with you,” Sophia cooed in a velvet, throaty voice, not betraying her frustration, stress, and the headache that had reared its ugly head.
Cool, calm, and collected, she began the interview.
¨°¨
Forty minutes later, Sophia hung up the phone. By now, her headache was a full-on nuisance that made her long to go home and close her eyes in her dark bedroom. The noise from outside seemed to keep pace with the throbbing in her temple. She walked over to the window and glanced down at the sidewalk again to check on her noisy new neighbor.
A remarkable amount of progress had been made in only an hour. At least they had managed to accomplish something. A patio had been built in front of the shop, and Sophia noticed that tables, chairs, strings of twinkly fairy lights and two of the most garish inflatable holiday snowmen were being erected as decoration.
It was a veritable winter wonderland.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Sophia snarled, tossing her phone onto her desk and stomping over to the closet
to take out her designer trench.
She marched downstairs, down a narrow, creaking wood staircase, through the back room of the store and pushed past a velvet curtain into her shop. She wondered what she would say to this new neighbor. The previous tenant, a cupcake shop, which had been a rather unsuccessful venture lasting barely 8 months, had at least been quiet and unremarkable. This new business must have just moved in over the past week and was certainly announcing its presence with a tremendous amount of commotion.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Black,” Elle said a little too brightly.
“I wish it were a good afternoon,” Sophia grumbled as she walked past, pushed the glass door open and emerged onto the sidewalk, the late-afternoon sun filtering through the tree branches.
She walked over to where all of the ruckus had been taking place and stood in front of the group of workers, hands on her hips.
“What is this?” she asked the group.
The two men and the woman stopped hammering. They put their strings of lights and sheets of wood down and looked over at her, clearly surprised at her tone. A woman and a small boy brushed past her to go into the shop, which was apparently open, despite the annoying amount of construction happening outside. Sophia glanced at the black and white sign hanging over the door.
The Little Cafe
artisanal coffee & donuts
The sign, which was designed to look hand-painted and rustic, and the words all maddeningly scrawled in lower case, prompted Sophia to scowl.
“I’m Ari,” the sole woman in the group stepped forward, a hammer in her left hand, offering Sophia her other hand to shake.
Sophia ignored the extended hand.
“Are you the owner of this... establishment?” she snapped.
Ari nodded.
“Yep. Just opened last week. We’re scrambling to put up some holiday decorations to try to draw Christmas shoppers in for refreshments. Sorry for the noise,” she said, grinning sheepishly.
“Apology not accepted. I’m the owner of the boutique next door and I cannot tolerate this kind of noise during one of the busiest shopping days of the season. Not to mention the fact that thisunique choice of decoration doesn’t blend well with the atmosphere that retailers find acceptable on this street.”
Ari’s smile disappeared and she crossed her arms. “Now wait a second, this is my place, what do you have against me adding a touch of holiday cheer to attract customers? Like you, I’m just trying to earn a living-”
“I assure you, Ms.- what is your name again?”
“Little. Ari Little.”
“Ari Little?” Sophia paused, letting the cutesiness of the coffee shop name sink in, unimpressed. “Look, Ms. Little, you clearly didn’t research the location before setting up shop. Let me fill you in. This is Palo Rosa, and our Retail Association has strict regulations about what can and cannot be placed in storefronts or outside on sidewalks. Number one, you cannot build an outdoor patio without permits and you may never put up garish Christmas decorations along the sidewalk. We have an image to maintain, an image that attracts a select sort of clientele. They prefer that we maintain an air of civility, order and exclusivity, since they select this area over strip malls and other banal places where one might find blow-up decorations.”
Ari scowled, her hand on her hip. “I actually did research this area. It would have been pretty irresponsible for me not to when I want to invest my whole livelihood here, don’t you think? How do you expect your precious Silicon Valley millionaires, millennial prodigies and their yuppie parents to shop until they drop without a cup of fair trade, single-origin micro-lot coffee, or a midday organic basil-blueberry donut or chia-apricot muffin break? Don’t lecture me. I know what I’m doing.”
Sophia took a small step back. She had not expected the woman to talk back. Normally, new people in town did the reverse and backed down when Sophia confronted them.
Of course, Ari’s strong reaction only made Sophia want to give off more of an illusion of being calm and in control of the situation. Her face froze while she listened to the woman. She always preferred it if - and indeed, hoped - people would have a meltdown in front of her. It gave her great satisfaction when she, of all people, was the calm, reasonable, even-tempered one during an altercation.
Because it never failed to frustrate them.
As her mother had once told her, asserting power is all about breaking down the confidence and resolve of the other.
Sophia’s mouth curved into a little smile. “Please explain how this winter scene you are constructing out here says ‘fair trade organic coffee’? Which, by the way, that grotesque inflatable Santa over there infringes on my storefront space. You can’t have paraphernalia that close to my shop’s entrance. Zoning laws, Ms. Little.”
“So Palo Rosa also has laws against holiday cheer? I’ll slide the Santa over. It’s only going to be up for a week, 10 days at most. Christmas’ll be over soon, and then it’ll be gone, and you’ll have your precious sidewalk back,” Ari said, taking a deep breath, clearly willing herself to remain calm.
Sophia’s sly little smile remained on her face, enjoying herself as the blonde woman grew more and more irritated. “Take it down, Ms. Little,” she said firmly. “Trust me. You do not want to go up against me and the rest of the Retail Association on something this trivial.”
Ari’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? No. It’s my cafe, my decorations. Deal with it for a week, and it’ll be over.”
The men who had been working with Ari and listening in on the conversation slowly started to resume their work, minus the hammering.
Ari stood, regarding Sophia, a hand on her hip and her long blonde hair blowing softly in the crisp afternoon air.
“We’ll see about that,” Sophia said finally, as Ari turned her attention back to several small white trees with neon lights that she had set up next to the entrance to the cafe.
Sophia turned around and started walking back toward her shop.
“Wait, what did you say?” Ari called after her.
“I said, ‘we’ll see about that,’” Sophia said, turning back around. “You might want to attend the Palo Rosa town meeting Monday night. 7pm. Until then.”
“What do you mean?” Ari asked, a flash of worry crossing her face.
Sophia raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I know some influential people in local politics.”
“Local... you mean Palo Rosa?” Ari asked. “This is just a small suburb of San Francisco, how much politics could there be here?”
“Our town meetings are held the third Monday of every month. Come on Monday and we’ll discuss your little display with the Palo Rosa Retail Association. Or remove it. Your choice. It all depends how much hassle you care to deal with.”
“I’d see you there, then. I can’t wait to check out what this Retail Association is all about,” Ari replied somewhat facetiously. “Thanks for telling me all about it. Wait, what’s your name?”
“Sophia. Sophia Black.”
“Nice to meet you, Sophia,” Ari said, a hint of bitterness in her tone.
“Until we discuss this matter again on Monday, Ms. Little, I’d advise you keep the noise levels down,” she said sternly, glaring at one of Ari’s workers who had just picked up his hammer again, and turned on her heels.
¨°¨
“Well, that was a hearty welcome to the neighborhood,” Leonard, one of Ari’s old aquaintances who had come to help her build the wood patio and set up the holiday decorations, grumbled after Sophia had walked away.
“No kidding,” Ari said quietly, cursing under her breath.
After Sophia disappeared back into her store, Ari walked over to the door to read the name of Sophia’s shop. She had not paid it much notice until now.
FORBIDDEN
“Forbidden...” Ari read the name, which was starkly printed in all capital letters on the glass.
She looked at the window display, which featured a large gold frame with a black velvet
canvas. Pinned to the velvet were various pieces of clothing. Lingerie, to be precise. A camisole and matching shorts, made of what appeared to be a cream colored satin material and trimmed with delicate lace; a robe that was cut simply and in a feminine cream and black rose print, and a spectacular, but completely impractical, lacy black bra.
Her eyes widened slightly at the display.
“Was not expecting that,” she said to herself, wondering how she could have missed such a sight the many times she had walked past. She must have been too focused on moving in and getting the coffee shop started. She had been scrambling the past couple of weeks to open, and besides, normally took the back entrance into her store, rather than the front, where she would have had more exposure to all of this.
Too bad. It was quite the display she had missed.
¨°¨
After Sophia returned to her office, she sent off a strongly-worded email to a few people who worked for the town council, and a few others who were in the Retail Association. Afterwards, the rest of the day passed in an unremarkable fashion. The hammering from outside had stopped. Sophia had no more calls to make, all that was left for the day was to look over a few spreadsheets with information about online orders and stock levels in her New York boutique, making sure that nothing was going to go too awry as a result of the Christmas-ordering frenzy.
Most of her sales came from her online store, but her boutique in Palo Rosa, California had been her first retail space and the one that was dearest to her heart. An upscale San Francisco suburb, Palo Rosa was her home, where she had lived for much of her life. Her boutique in New York was actually just a leased space nested within a larger department store; tiny, but popular enough to justify the added expense of maintaining a retail space there.
The funny thing about being a lingerie designer was that Sophia Black had never been that interested in being a fashion designer at all, and not to mention, had never been particularly enamored with lingerie.
She had studied business in school, and in her final year, she landed in an internship for a textile company that created and distributed some of the finest fabrics, silks, and laces. Not only did this company work with the highest quality of natural materials like silk, but also new, synthetic fabrics they had specifically designed through their own research and technology investments to be comfortable and beautiful. Some of their synthetic materials were as light as air but easy to wash, draped beautifully and came in virtually every color and never faded. It was exposure to these fabrics that made Sophia certain that she one day wanted to create something marvelous out of them.
