No one had been hurt in the fire. She and her baby, only a month old, her cat and two of her staff had lived in an apartment on the second floor. The most important thing—they all escaped without injury. But she had a staff of four who looked to her for guidance, who believed in her dream and were waiting for her back at the Wellington mansion.
Philip Wellington, what a Godsend he was. The billionaire, a friend of Skip’s and her grandfather’s, was watching the television reporters that morning. Seeing Gilly standing in front of her shop as it went up in flames, he had called offering his home to her and her staff. A place to regroup.
“Let’s walk around back,” Skip said. “See if your car can be driven.” Skip Hunter—newspaper reporter, a friend who wanted to be so much more—had responded to her call asking him to bring her back to the scene of the fire so she could get her car.
Gilly’s eyes turned to the man who had spoken, eyes that for a moment seemed not to recognize the man.
Skip, however, recognized the blank look and flinched. He had lost her again. She was in another world. A businesswoman trying to make sense of what had just gone up in smoke and what she was going to do about it. He looked into her blank green eyes, shook his head, sighed. “Come on, let’s find your car.”
Gilly stepped off the curb, walked behind a car stopped in the middle of the street, the driver gawking up at the windows that were smashed by the firemen. She hesitated in front of the shop, windows boarded up against potential looters. What a joke. There was nothing left to loot—burned fabric, charred shelves, racks, cases. The front of the shop, nonetheless, was cordoned off with yellow tape. Bright orange cones had been strategically placed to keep pedestrians away from the display windows and cracked glass door.
She found that her car had survived unscathed by the battle of the fire engines, hoses, and ladders except for a thick layer of soot now in jagged, clogged, sticky lines from the rain. Gilly unlocked the car, slid in and turned the key. The engine sprang to life. She looked up at Skip, his hand on the top of the open door. “Thanks. I really appreciate you bringing me down here … so early. I’ll be in touch.”
Skip closed the door and stepped back so she could back away from the building. He watched as she disappeared out of the alley.
Chapter 2
───
ON THE WAY TO the Wellington mansion Gilly stopped at the veterinary clinic to check on Coco, her cat. Coco was a hero! She had warned Gilly of the fire, saving everyone’s life. Coco, her fur singed, was responding to the vet’s care. Gilly told him her mother would be by in a day or two to take the frightened cat home with her to recuperate.
Back at the mansion, Gilly checked on her baby before meeting with her staff. Gladys, Wellington’s maid, had happily taken charge of the infant from the moment Gilly arrived in her bathrobe and green Red Cross slipper socks.
Restrained chitter-chatter stopped as Gilly entered the elegant dining room of Philip Wellington’s mansion. Wellington had insisted Gilly, Robyn her baby, and Nicole and Gabby, two members of her staff, all rendered homeless because of the fire, come to his mansion and stay for as long as they desired.
Nicole and Gabby exchanged a quick glance at their boss, but more than that, their friend, entered the room. They had met Gilly when she interned at various fashion houses in Paris. Both French women saw a creative designer who was going to be a force in the fashion world, and when Gilly called with a job offer in Seattle they quickly accepted.
Philip Wellington joined the group, coffee in hand, and sat at the end of the glossy teak dining room table—a table that sat twelve and expanded to twenty. He took in Gilly’s demeanor, the way she held her body—straight, calm, determined. He recognized her deportment. It was not unlike his own years ago building his cattle ranch in Montana. Twice he thought he had lost everything only to pull himself up by his bootstraps to rebuild, forge ahead, and ultimately to make his fortune. He felt Gillianne Wilder had the stuff to come out of this trying situation all the stronger for the setback. Ironically, trial by fire.
Gilly locked eyes with Wellington as she passed to pour herself a cup of coffee. She pulled strength from his eyes, and then turned to face her staff of four. Besides the two members from Paris, there were Maria, her long time friend and confidant, and Arthur, the man who had saved her from falling into an oncoming train and was now the manager of her books, head of the accounting department of one. They waited to hear from the twenty-six-year-old redhead who seemed to have the bearing of an experienced businesswoman twice her age.
She walked to the empty chair at the head of the table. “Well, on one hand, we were frightened out of our wits but we were not hurt. On the other hand, we lost some used furniture in the loft apartment and the studio, a rack of our designs and items on a shelf. And, all our labor sprucing the place up. But we managed to grab our laptops as we ran out of the building, and Arthur had squirreled away the accounts, all the paperwork to support his numbers, at his home. But above all, we have our minds, our hearts, and our fierce determination. We may be homeless but we are not helpless.”
Gilly took a sip of coffee, sat a moment. Unable to sit still, she stood, paced to the end of the table.
“The landlord lost a section of his building and his tenant Stacy Sinclair. Stacy had planned to retire anyway, which is why she asked us to manage the shop. Stacy lost her inventory and her business in the fire and has no interest in reopening The Working Girl shop. Which means the shop’s sales will be cut by more than half because Stacy is not going to replace her stock. We only have Nordstrom’s display—no more walk-in traffic at The Working Girl, no display in the window, no sales—nothing of Stacy’s inventory was saved. The insurance companies will not payout any money until the Fire Chief and the police, along with the insurance investigators, can ascertain that the landlord or Stacy, or ourselves, had nothing to do with igniting the fire. From what the insurance adjusters have said, we can’t expect the funds to be released anytime soon. This could take a few days, weeks, or months.”
Gilly glanced up at Wellington. “Mr. Wellington, I can’t thank you enough for taking us in yesterday, and now I’m going to ask you if we can extend our stay for a month, to rent this dining room and the three bedrooms.”
“My dear woman, I will be happy to have you move your operation to whatever rooms you have need of for as long as you desire. And don’t let me hear the word rent. The activity you have brought to my home and my staff over the last few hours has given us a new lease on life. I for one am going to enjoy watching you and your staff overcome this setback. I will ask Gladys to have this room cleared of everything but the furniture so you have space to work. I will show you additional rooms you might find usable and Gladys will work out menus as needed. Let’s call my home the temporary House of Wilder Fashions.”
Gilly’s lips formed the first smile she’d displayed in the last forty-eight hours. “Mr. Wellington, your hospitality is accepted but we will settle the matter of compensation later.”
“Gillianne, the fun I’m going to have watching you triumph over this temporary adversity will be payment enough.”
Gilly cocked her head, one brow raised. “You and I will discuss this later.”
Gladys bustled in setting a carafe of fresh coffee and a tray of bagels and cream cheese on the buffet. She smiled at the group sitting around the table and left.
“Mr. Wellington—
“Please, everyone, call me Philip. If we’re going to be business partners of sorts, I have always insisted my colleagues call each other by their first names. Is that all right with you, Gillianne?”
“Perfect. So, Philip, do you have five card tables, or small tables for desk space, to setup in this room? I think it is important, for the next few days anyway, that my staff and I work out of the same room. We’re used to close quarters and until we get our sea legs, I’d like to keep us together. Do you have pads to put on the dining room table to protect the wood? We do need a surface to cut pa
tterns and muslin, oh, and a white board propped on a couple of chairs?”
“Perkins will see to it. I’ll ask him to check with you when you’re finished with your meeting. He’ll obtain what you need.”
“Thank you. I think you have all of our names but I’ll make out a list just the same.” Gilly looked over her staff. They were beginning to relax. Nicole’s eyes no longer looked frightened. It was a beginning. “You all still have jobs. Nothing has changed as far as your roles in our company. We have to dig in and cultivate more buyers now that we’ve lost our primary revenue stream.”
“How are we going to do that?” Nicole asked. The precocious twenty-eight-year-old was ready to go. She only wanted to know in which direction Gilly wanted her to march.
Everyone laughed. How wonderful it felt to begin to come to grips with the situation. Sweet Nicole piping up, the first to pierce the gloom and doom with her girlish French accent.
“Gilly, wait.” Gabby stood, arms across her chest, head down. “This isn’t going to work,” she said in a soft voice.
The smiles vanished from their faces. Breathing stopped. Gilly studied Gabby and knew instantly that Gabby was right. Gilly had been looking for an easy way out. Wellington had stepped in giving them a place to sleep, food, and a change of clothes. But it wasn’t a workable situation to keep the business going.
Gilly stared at Gabrielle Dupont, thirty-nine, the person with the most business experience in the room except for Wellington.
“It would be hard to meet potential buyers in this mansion, several miles from the heart of the city.” Gabby lifted her head, eyes darting around at the faces staring back at her.
Nicole turned to Gilly. “Is there a bus stop out here?” she asked her eyes flashing to Wellington.
He nodded in the negative.
“How am I going to get to the factory, to meet with Vinsenso, check for flaws in the day’s production?” Nicole added.
“I don’t have a car,” Arthur said timidly. “That’s why Cindy and I live in the city, so we don’t have the expense of a car.”
Gilly sought Maria’s eyes signaling they both understood. Gabby was right. The Wellington mansion was not the answer.
“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Gilly took a deep breath. “Philip, thank you for your offer and forget what I said a few minutes ago—the tables, moving things around. However, you’ll never know how grateful I am, we all are, for taking us in the morning of the fire.” Gilly expelled the breath she was holding and then smiled. “Now, I have some calls to make. We will reconvene today at my grandfather’s house at two o’clock, in Hansville. A summit meeting. It’s a beautiful, sunny day and I’m sure we’ll figure out our next step after a nice ferry ride across Puget Sound. Maria, can you bring Arthur and Cindy?”
“Of course.”
“Arthur, I hope Cindy can join us. I’d like her to be in on our decisions. Gabby, I’ll drive you and Nicole. But, we have a couple of stops to make first. Let me make my calls. I should be ready to leave in thirty minutes and bring your laptops. Is everybody onboard?”
They all nodded and started picking up their notes to leave.
Gilly walked up to Philip and threw her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. He in turn gripped her tightly. She smiled at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “I dub you my surrogate father. Do you accept?”
“Yes, my dear. With pleasure. Seems you and your grandfather have become part of my life—the both of you helping in the case of my stolen gold. And, of course, Skip staying on the story.”
“You know Skip’s almost finished his novel … the Exposé of Seattle’s Gold Heist, I believe he calls it,” Gilly said.
“Oh? I knew he was writing something about it. Nice man—good reporter.”
“We’ll be back tonight but it will probably be after nine. Please let Gladys know that my mom will feed us today. Okay?”
“Okay. I presume you’re taking Robyn with you?”
“Always.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then she was gone.
Excitement gripped the group again as they headed for the door. A plan of attack was percolating under Gilly’s red locks and they wondered what rabbit she’d pull out of her hat this time. It certainly had to be a big one.
Chapter 3
───
THE SUN CONTINUED TO shine reflecting brilliant flickers of light off the waters of Puget Sound. In the back seat of the car, Gabby fed Robyn her first bottle of breast milk as the women chattered non-stop from Seattle to Hansville. Coco was asleep in her cat carrier. Gilly honked her horn twice as she pulled into the driveway of her grandfather’s house—the home where she had spent most of her time before she moved to Seattle.
Gilly’s mom Anne, and Gramps barreled out of the patio door to help with the baby and her bags full of diapers, sleepers, and little outfits. Gladys had not been able to resist adding the baby clothes when shopping for the infant in her charge. It was the first time Gilly had been to Hansville since Robyn was born and the girls headed to her bedroom closet to find a change of clothes. Anne scooped Robyn out of Gabby’s arms and headed to the crib she had set up in Gramp’s bedroom for her naptime. Gramps let Coco out of her carrier in the kitchen. She seemed to perk up now that she was back in her old stomping grounds.
The aroma of fried chicken filled the house along with fresh-baked bread. Maria, Arthur and Cindy arrived within ten minutes and the little house was suddenly a flurry of activity. Maria showed the new arrivals the lay of the land—the guesthouse where she and Gilly had spent long sessions designing and sewing samples. They then strolled outside to the front of the house and the rickety stairs leading to the deck below, and the ladder down to the beach.
At precisely two o’clock, with full stomachs, Gilly called the summit to order in the living room with the backdrop of picture windows revealing the sparkling waters of the sound.
Everyone sat in fresh jeans and T-shirts—a few perched on chairs, the rest on the floor leaning against the couch, sneakers forming a hub in the middle of the circle. Coco peered out from under the couch. Gilly sat on the raised hearth of the fireplace a fresh cup of coffee on one side, her tote on the other, and a legal-size yellow pad in her lap. She also wore a smile as did Nicole and Gabby. They had accompanied Gilly on her stops and knew what was coming.
“Gabby, Nicole, and I went to see the landlord of what was Stacy’s shop. I asked him if he had anything, anything, that we might use while the burned out space was being cleaned, repaired, and made suitable for use again.”
“And? Come on. Give, girlfriend,” Maria said. She knew that sly look. The look meant that Gilly had come up with a solution to their predicament. But what?
“Well … he did. At first he just shook his head, no. He said that the only vacant space he had was spread over the shoe store and the mobile phone center. The two shops to the left of The Working Girl. He said it was just a ‘big, old, dirty, barren floor.’ So, I asked if we could see it.”
“My God, Gilly, that would be twice the size of our second floor loft area,” Arthur said. “Sounds like the space he’s talking about must have sat empty for a long time.”
“You are so right Arthur, a looong time. Who would want it? That big, old, dirty, barren floor?”
Gilly took a sip of coffee, looked over at her mom sitting on the edge of her chair in the arched doorway of the dining room … waiting to hear the deal her daughter had made.
“He led us through the shoe shop to the center stairs, like the staircase in the middle of The Working Girl, and up to the loft.”
“Honestly, you guys, it was beautiful … dirty, empty, but beautiful,” Nicole said pulling her knees up to her chest, her eyes big as saucers visualizing what she had seen.
“Plumbing? Does it have water? Heat? A bathroom?” Maria asked.
“All of that, and nothing else. Oh, wait, except for banks of fluorescent lighting fixtures,” Gilly said.
“He must want a fortune
,” Arthur said, glancing at his wife then back to Gilly.
“Hold on a minute, Mr. Money Man,” Gilly said. “This is way more space than we need, I told him. And then Gabby, well, Gabby you tell it.”
“I stood glancing around …” Gabby paused as if anticipating a sale, looked out the window, back at the eager faces in front her. “Glancing around, I said that from the looks of it, it must never have been occupied. I think we’d be doing you a favor if we took over some of this space.” Gabby looked back at Gilly barely able to contain herself.
“I said, if he would let us squat here rent free, we would agree to move back to our original space after he had accomplished the cleanup and renovation. At which time, I continued, we would once again pay rent but it had to be at the same rate—no increase just because it was new.”
Maria sat shaking her head. “I bet you went so far as to say, if he let us squat on the big, old, dirty, barren floor we would pay for the heat and electricity just to show him our good will?” she said chuckling.
“Well, yes, but only if he arranged to have a cleaning crew in there today and tomorrow so we could move in on Saturday,” Gilly said.
“Wait,” Arthur said. “What are you guys going to sleep on? And what about tables, a kitchen set up, partitions, a corner for Gabby’s clients?”
“Ahh, well … that is what we have to do tomorrow … while the landlord has the floors scrubbed, and the brick walls and beamed ceiling washed down. Before catching the ferry we three went to a furniture warehouse in Everett. We had to see if what we were planning was doable. They had partitions, tables, desks, chairs, rolled up rugs, kitchen stuff, even beds. No cribs. Have to work on that. And they will deliver Saturday.”
“Oh, Gilly, it sounds awfully rough,” Arthur said shaking his head.
“You’re right, Arthur, it will be rough. But we’ll be in business … well, kinda, better than miles away … definitely different than the Wellington mansion.”
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 42
