The Little Shop of Hopes and Dreams (Mills & Boon M&B)

by Fiona Harper

  The rent had still been a stretch, especially as the whole place would need refitting to be the kind of office Nicole had envisioned, but when she’d brought Peggy back with her for a second opinion, Peggy had come up with a solution. She was a freelance graphic designer and shared office space with three other designers, all of whom were men. She’d said she’d just about had enough of the slightly smelly testosterone-filled air and the takeaway cartons that no one seemed to clear up after an all-nighter doing a rush job for a client, so she’d suggested she and Nicole share the studio above the shop. She could do her design work without having to breathe through her mouth half the day or listen to endless discussions about ‘World of Warcraft’, but since her job meant work often ebbed and flowed, she could also help Nicole with Hopes & Dreams during the downtimes.

  Nicole’s dad had been an absolute star, doing any building work at cost, and Peggy and Nicole had got their hands dirty too, wielding paintbrushes and electric drills and sanding the original floorboards. They’d scoured salvage yards and boot fairs for pieces of furniture that went with the quirky vintage vibe of the shop and had managed to find two large desks in dark wood that had been sanded and re-stained. Nicole’s remained neat and tidy, with a few pencil pots and notepads, while Peggy’s was an explosion of photo frames and polka-dotted accessories.

  One of the walls was filled with dark wooden shelves, probably home to thread and ribbons and buttons once upon a time, but now it housed photos of happy couples she’d helped on their way to matrimony, miniature wedding cakes, bouquets of silk flowers and just about anything heart-shaped Peggy could lay her hands on. Near the other window was a small purple velvet sofa with silver scatter cushions.

  The crowning glory of their junk-shop treasures was a tailor’s dummy that Peggy had found and christened Gilda. She was now adorned with a wedding dress that was mostly corset and tulle skirt and stood in front of one of the two large sash windows, her headless body staring out across the courtyard, like a fairy-tale heroine waiting for her prince to come.

  Nicole hadn’t been convinced about the design scheme when she and Peggy had discussed ideas, wanting something more classy and elegant, but Peggy was paying half the rent, so she’d had to compromise. They needed something fun, something different, Peggy had pointed out. Something that told Nicole’s potential clients she could deliver the impossible, not just the same old, same old. While the bright fuchsia paint on the one wall that hadn’t been stripped back to bare brick and the bejewelled chandelier that hung from the ceiling made Nicole wince a little every time she arrived for work in the morning, she had to agree that their little shop of Hopes & Dreams fulfilled that brief.

  Behind the front studio was a small kitchenette and a toilet and they’d turned the small stockroom at the back into a cosy meeting space for Nicole to chat to her clients.

  Peggy swept into the office on Monday morning and hung her coat on the old-fashioned hatstand in the corner with more force than was strictly necessary. ‘I don’t believe it! The Witches have gone and gazumped us again! You know the breakfast TV presenter Lottie Carlton? Well, her producer boyfriend proposed to her live on-air just before the credits rolled, and I’m sure that when a camera swung round I saw Celeste and Minty there in the background!’ She collapsed into her chair and sighed dramatically. ‘We’ll never hear the end of it.’

  Nicole had got there early to work on ideas for a client she was meeting later that day and had just come back from the kitchenette, where she’d made herself a cup of coffee. When she’d first worked here she’d nipped across to the little coffee shop opposite for caffeine, but now she was counting her pennies and had to put up with instant.

  Peggy threw her vintage crocodile-skin handbag down on her desk. ‘I know she only does the local London show, but that’s serious exposure for I Do, I Do, I Do.’

  Nicole used a finger to smooth her hair back out of her face as she pulled her desk chair out and sat down. ‘We’re going to drive ourselves mad if we keep comparing Hopes & Dreams to them. I think we ought to have a Celeste-and-Minty jar in the office.’

  Confusion crumpled Peggy’s features. ‘What?’

  ‘Like a swear jar,’ Nicole explained. ‘Every time we mention them or their agency, we have to put a pound in the pot. It’s about time we stopped focusing our energy on how well they’re doing and concentrate on our own success. We’ve had another two yeses since we saw them at the Hamilton last week.’

  Peggy nodded, grudgingly. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ She tipped her collection of fluffy pens out of a polka-dotted tin that said ‘You don’t have to be a goddess to work here, but it helps’ on the side and plonked it on Nicole’s desk. ‘Here…and I vote we spend the proceeds on cocktails, to drown our sorrows when Detest and Squinty schmooze all the high-profile clients in London into their clutches.’

  Nicole picked the pot up and held it in her direction, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘What?’ Peggy said. ‘I didn’t actually use their proper names…’

  Nicole waggled the pot.

  Peggy flounced over and dropped a coin in the bottom. ‘Fine.’

  ‘It still counts. We need some positive energy around here. I’ve spent my whole life trying to compete with girls like that, and I’ve decided I can’t be bothered with it any more. And you know why? Because we’re good. We’re really good. So the big-ticket clients will come. We’ve worked too hard for them not to. We deserve them, and I believe people sow what they reap. We don’t have to stress about those two—’ She noticed the tin in her hand, broke off and smiled serenely. ‘We don’t have to stress,’ she said again. ‘It’ll all work out.’

  Peggy stopped looking quite so affronted and a naughty twinkle appeared in her eye. ‘You really think so?’

  Nicole ignored the little wobble in her tummy at that thought of her much-loved company, the one she’d invested all her time and energy and even more of her money in, going down the drain. ‘I certainly do,’ she said, faking total and complete calmness. She was ninety per cent there. Fudging the final ten per cent really wasn’t lying.

  And she was also sure she’d conquer this childish urge to push Celeste’s and Minty’s faces into the ground and stand triumphantly over them while they tasted the mud of defeat. She was talking the talk, doing her best to walk the walk. If she persevered, eventually her wayward thoughts would have to get into line with the rest of her. This was the method she’d used in upgrading the rest of her life, and she was sure it would work here too.

  ‘We’ll be okay in the end if we work hard,’ she told her business partner, most seriously. ‘We just mustn’t lose heart.’

  Peggy snorted, but as she flumped into her office chair she looked a little less stressed. ‘You sound almost religious about it.’

  ‘Well, it is in the Bible, that sowing and reaping thing. Why shouldn’t we get rewarded for all our effort, while…other people…get what they deserve?’

  Peggy shook her head. ‘Well, the last bit sounds wonderful to me. I’ve always been a fan of a bit of divine retribution. But are you saying that if we all just pray hard enough, a rich, young—preferably titled—stud is going to crash through that door on his steed and declare, “I want you to plan a proposal for me!”?’

  Nicole sent her an angelic smile. ‘I’m sending up a little prayer right now,’ she replied and returned to her internet search for a glass slipper that one of their clients wanted to use as part of his proposal.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Later that afternoon, as the clouds hung heavy across the city, bringing a premature twilight, and the wind bounced itself off the windows at the front of the Hopes & Dreams office, the door crashed open.

  Nicole looked up to find a tall, long-legged blonde wrapped stylishly in a cape, her tumbling golden waves teased slightly out of place by the wind. ‘Are you the proposal planners?’ she asked, bracing herself dramatically in the doorway.

  Nicole and Peggy shot a look at each other across their d
esks, looked at their guest and nodded.

  ‘Then I want you to plan the best proposal ever for me,’ she said, a tinge of desperation in her cut-glass tone. ‘The best one you’ve ever done!’

  Peggy mouthed across at Nicole, ‘You know who that is?’

  Nicole nodded, ever so slightly, ever so discreetly. Either this was famous-for-being-famous socialite Saffron Wolden-Barnes or her double had just crashed her way into their office.

  ‘Flipping heck,’ Peggy muttered under her breath and shooting a look heavenwards. ‘It actually worked.’

  ‘God does indeed move in mysterious ways,’ Nicole mumbled back. In the ten and a half months since Hopes & Dreams had been in business, she’d not once had a woman walk through her door.

  Peggy shrugged and added, ‘You prayed for her. You’d better take her.’

  Nicole rose and walked towards their new client and held out a hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. I’m Nicole Harrison, founder of Hopes & Dreams Proposal Planning Agency. If it’s something unique you want, you’ve come to the right place.’

  The blonde shook her hand back. ‘Saffron,’ she said, exhaling, and nodded towards the door, as Peggy scurried over to close it. ‘Sorry about that. People expect me to make an entrance when I’m out doing public appearances and what have you. Sometimes I just forget to switch it all off.’

  ‘Why don’t we sit down and talk through some ideas,’ Nicole said smoothly. She led Saffron down the narrow corridor and opened the door to the proposal-planning room.

  Once inside she breathed a sigh of relief. Here, at least, she’d been allowed free hand to decorate, and it was an oasis of cream and off-white, clean lines and stripped wood. Black-and-white photos graced the walls and there was just enough room for a low glass coffee table and two oatmeal-coloured armchairs.

  As they settled themselves down, Nicole took a closer look at their client. She’d seen pictures of her in Celebrity Life, of course, but had never laid eyes on her in person. That charisma that oozed from the glossy pages of the magazine was not exaggerated. There was something about her that made you want to look at her. Maybe it was the long, tumbling blonde waves. Maybe it was the designer jeans and boots, the way she’d slung her outfit together with a careless sophistication that Nicole had taken years to get down pat. Whatever that elusive X factor was, Saffron Wolden-Barnes had it in spades. It was as if someone had taken all the best bits of all ‘those girls’ Nicole had battled with all her life and rolled them into one perfect package.

  A package that they sorely needed, if Nicole’s diminishing bank account was anything to go by. She couldn’t let that faze her, though. Pretending her heart wasn’t pounding a little harder, that this was any other, non-famous, non-make-or-break client, Nicole picked up a large notebook from the coffee table, which was adorned with folders full of different proposal ideas. She removed the lid of her fountain pen, poised it ready to write, then looked up.

  What she saw took her by surprise. Saffron was looking back at her, leaning forward with her hands clasped. Her knees were pressed together, allowing her to rest her elbows on them, but her feet jutted out at odd angles, giving her long legs the appearance of those of a just-born foal who wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. She leaned forward, stared Nicole straight in the eye and sighed. Her eyebrows pulled upwards in the centre, creating a little arch-shaped wrinkle in the skin above her nose.

  ‘You think I’m bonkers, don’t you? Go on, say it. All my friends do. They think I should wait for him to pop the question.’

  Nicole blinked. She’d expected Saffron to be the queen of ‘those girls’, full of confidence and easy words, but there was something about her…She reminded Nicole of the girl she’d been at school. On one hand, having everything going for her, but on the other, awkward, vulnerable, maybe a little too desperate to please. She put her pen down, stopped smiling her ‘client’ smile at the other woman and leaned forward. ‘There’s nothing bonkers—I mean, crazy—about wanting to ask the person you love to marry you.’

  The rest of Saffron’s eyebrows lifted and her mouth opened a little. Then she smiled at Nicole. A big, glowing smile that lit up her face and made her blue eyes sparkle. Nicole couldn’t help smiling back. There was something very open and refreshing about Saffron Wolden-Barnes.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me about the man in your life,’ she asked gently. ‘We’re going to need to find out a little about him before we start planning in earnest.’

  Saffron didn’t need to be asked twice. She launched instantly into a full description of the paragon she dearly wanted to marry. He was sexy. He was clever. He was cool and funny. He had the best smile in the world and made her feel safe and grounded in her crazy life.

  ‘He’s a bit publicity shy, though,’ she added, thoughtfully. ‘Doesn’t really like the limelight. So we’ve been dating not exactly in secret, but quietly.’

  ‘And you think he’s ready to make this step too?’ Nicole asked. Nobody—not her, not the client—wanted a ‘no’ after all the expense and planning, so it wasn’t a bad idea to make sure the proposer had really thought about it before they put the wheels in motion.

  Saffron nodded vigorously. ‘I’m sure he does. At least…’ She frowned again. ‘No…I’m sure. I think so.’ She gave Nicole another blast of her famous smile. ‘There are no guarantees when you’re doing something like this, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Nicole said, heartily relieved Saffron wasn’t one of those clients she had to remind about this point. She was good, but she couldn’t achieve the impossible.

  ‘I mean…part of the point of the exercise is finding out the answer to that question, isn’t it? And I really want to know the answer. Now.’ Her shoulders drooped a little. ‘I just haven’t got time to wait for the next leap year.’

  ‘Well, what kind of proposal were you looking for?’ Nicole asked. ‘We can arrange just about anything you want. Intimate meetings in the midst of the city or an idyllic woodland trail with a Michelin-starred picnic at the end. Flash mobs or a romantic assignation at a castle or in a luxury penthouse. We can do big and dramatic or cosy and intimate. Obviously, we can’t do magic…’ she paused to smile softly, as she always did when she delivered the next bit ‘…but we’ll do our best to make your hopes and dreams come true.’

  Cheesy line, she knew. But the clients loved it.

  Saffron exhaled and her shoulders relaxed. ‘Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.’

  Nicole smiled again. She hadn’t expected to like Saffron, but she did. There was a lack of guile about her that was surprisingly disarming. Suddenly she understood why it was this girl and not the hundreds of other bright young things like her that the tabloids followed round.

  ‘I don’t even know where to start…’ Saffron said mournfully, flicking through one of the folders in front of her. ‘Just that I want it to be monumental, spectacular. And that I want to do it the weekend before Christmas, so it’s all done and dusted by the time I get together with my father, step-mother and step-sister on Christmas Eve.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got a questionnaire I can run through with you that will throw up some ideas, but we don’t have to decide anything right now,’ Nicole said.

  ‘I usually do a little homework on the fiancé-to-be when someone comes to me to plan a proposal. I also try to engineer a face-to-face meeting so that we can get a feel for their personality and tastes.’ After Mr Arrogant she wasn’t taking any chances.

  It had turned out to be a genius idea. While a lot of the men who came to her knew their partners very well, she’d discovered that there were also things many women hadn’t communicated to their significant other, secret wishes that the man of their dreams should just instinctively know without being told. After her mock interview, Nicole was well placed to weave them into her proposal ideas and let the proposer take the credit.

  Saffron looked a little panicked. ‘You won’t tip him off, will you?’

  Nicole shook her head reassu
ringly. ‘Don’t worry. We’re very discreet. Usually, I pose as a journalist or a market researcher doing a questionnaire and ask them a few key questions about themselves, what they feel about love and romance. It’s all very quick and painless.’

  She didn’t add that it was usually a bit easier when the target was a woman. It wasn’t hard to run into someone in a coffee shop or in a high street and start chatting about weddings and boyfriends. Saffron was spooked enough as it was. Nicole wasn’t going to scare her off by mentioning this would be her first girl-asks-boy proposal.

  ‘What we need from you is information on how we can informally “bump into” him. Preferably a public place where there’s an opportunity to chat, hopefully within the next week.’

  Saffron thought hard for a moment. ‘I have the perfect event! Oh! It’s tonight…like, in a couple of hours. That’s not too soon, is it?’

  Nicole shook her head. It wasn’t impossible, even if it wasn’t the way she liked to do things. Usually, she preferred a couple of days to do some homework before she met the ‘target’, as Mia jokingly called them. It would mean she’d have to meet the guy first and do her research later. She mentally leafed through her diary and rescheduled her gym session for the following morning. ‘No, tonight is fine.’

  Saffron immediately brightened, clapping her hands together and bouncing a little on the sofa. ‘Oh, that’s amazing! I am so excited we can kick-start this straight away. I detest waiting for things.’ She pulled a scrap of paper from her handbag and scribbled down an address on it. ‘It’s a photography exhibition. I may well turn up at some point. That’s okay, isn’t it?’