Robyn sat in a stroller batting a mobile of yellow ducklings as Gilly and her other three mothers, Nicole, Gabby, and Maria, battled to bring order out of chaos.
Nicole took charge of the delivery of two small, glossy-white lacquered bistro tables with matching wrought-iron chairs—three with seats and a circle on the back upholstered in black and white pinstripe fabric and three more in a black and white toile depicting French scenes. The drapery installers arrived and quickly hung pearl-gray tieback curtains in the two front display windows topped with a pink chiffon over black valance.
Gilly had asked Maria to repaint the large shop sign over the windows and front glass door. The new sign, Gillianne Wilder Fashions, painted with gold lettering on black.
Maria stood outside the shop overseeing the painting of the shop’s name when a cab drew up to the curb. A handsome woman, blonde hair in a French twist, wearing a black silk suit, stepped out of the cab, looking up at the sign. Maria watched the attractive woman overhearing her giving instructions with a decided French accent to the driver. She walked past Maria and through the open door of the shop. Nobody said anything to her as they scurried around installing, moving, positioning and then rearranging items as Gilly directed.
Gilly called out to Gabby to watch Robyn. “I have to run out back for a minute. There’s a disagreement over the check Arthur wrote out for the furniture delivery.”
“Will do,” Gabby called back. She looked over at the stroller and then back to the chrome bar she held for the installer trying to screw in the bracket under a line of shelves.
The woman with the French twist sauntered through the shop, saw the baby, stooped over with her back to the activity behind her and clucked at the infant to get her attention while at the same time taking several pictures with her cell phone.
“Excuse me, Madame. Is there something I can do for you?” Nicole asked squeezing between the woman and the stroller.
“Merci, no, no.” The woman smiled, turned away from Nicole and strolled out of the shop, ducking back into the cab. “Hey, who are you?” Nicole shouted, dodging around the workers, trying to catch the woman, but she was already in the cab pulling away from the curb.
“What’s the matter, Nicole?” Maria asked. “Touch up the W with a little more of the gold. You missed a spot,” she called to the sign painter, her hands cupped around her mouth.
“Nothing, I guess,” Nicole replied as she glanced up at the shop’s name. “I sure like the gold on black. Gilly was smart to change the colors—more sophisticated.” She looked back at the traffic slowing in front of the shop before moving on—gawkers. The cab with the woman was out of sight.
Chapter 15
───
Los Angeles
WITH THE SHOP READY to open for business, the contractors switched their focus to the second floor—the apartment and design studio. Even with budget constraints necessitated by the smaller than expected insurance payout, there was room and money to construct the two areas. Frills would have to come later—additional lighting, throw rugs on newly refinished oak floors, and replacement one-by-one of the remaining rental furniture.
Gilly decided it was a good time to get away and check out the Los Angeles Fashion Week venue—what prices, services, and options were available for various levels of participation. And, most important, make contact with Shirley Stanhope, the event organizer. Gabby had sent in the application form for the following year’s March fashion week featuring GWF’s fall line. Anne volunteered to take care of her granddaughter for the two days Gilly and Gabby were in LA.
Several events had been scheduled around the fashion district during the week but the CMC, California Market Center, 13th Floor, was where the action occurred as far as the fashion designers were concerned.
The cab pulled up in front of the CMC building—a large streamlined edifice, with tall windows side by side between white cement columns marching up to the top floor.
Shirley Stanhope met the two women in the lobby and whisked them onto the elevator to the 13th floor. Nothing was scheduled at the Center this day, so Gilly and Gabby were able to get a good perspective of the vastness of the space. Shirley gave them a short walk-through and then they sat at a conversation area delineated by a white upholstered curved couch and white cubes serving as tables. White iron chairs faced the couch. Similar conversation areas were scattered throughout the space for visitors, buyers, and designers to discuss the various collections or just to get off their spiked high-heels for a rest.
Shirley opened a sales packet she had put together listing the various options Gillianne Wilder Fashions might want to consider for their debut showing.
“There is a show during fashion week called FOCUS. It’s set up to showcase emerging brands and designers. Rates for inclusion in this show start at $900,” Shirley said handing Gilly and Gabby a sheet listing the specifics of FOCUS. “We like to think of it as a discovery lab for the press and retailers. The show runs for three days. Depending on what options you choose you can display your collection on mannequins or in a space with a short walkway for the models, or a combination of both.” Shirley handed the event folder to Gilly.
“I see you have an exhibit called SELECT?” Gilly said.
“Yes. It’s a new tradeshow and the rates start at $3,700. Given what Ms. Dupont, Gabby, said over the phone that this was your first show and money was definitely a factor, I thought FOCUS would give you the most bang for the buck, so to speak,” Stanhope said, with a light chuckle. “But, of course, you can do whatever you feel best suits your needs.”
“Your guidance is appreciated, Shirley, especially since this is our first show,” Gilly said. “My plan is to bring three of my staff to your fall event, so we can get a feel for how it works, see what the other designers do to showcase their particular lines, and then go back to the drawing board, so to speak,” Gilly said laughing.
“Observing the show in action is the best way to see all aspects, opportunities, if you will. Not only how other designers present their collections but also see the services and how they work—dressing rooms, lounge and reception areas, stages, furniture, audio/visual options.”
“What about models, hair and makeup stylists?” Gabby asked.
“I can give you some names but the best way is to roam around backstage at the shows and pick up the business cards of the stylists you like. Also ask the designers what modeling agencies they use. And by all means ask the models themselves what agency represents them. Do they like the agency? You’ll find some models freelance for considerably less than what you’ll pay an agency. Of course, then you are at their mercy if they don’t show up. Many designers participating for the first time in a show will use mannequins to cut the cost … and the headaches.”
Gilly thanked Shirley for her help and advice and said goodbye. They exited the mammoth building into the bright, hot sunshine of southern California. Neither said a word as they walked down the street.
Gabby spoke first. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in desperate need of a shot of caffeine.”
Gilly looked sideways at her friend and nodded. “You can say that again. Looks like a coffee shop across the street. It’s not quite Paris but it’ll do in a pinch,” she laughed. “We’d better watch out for the traffic. The cars really speed around here.”
The exhaust from various sized vehicles emitting a strong odor—cars, vans, trucks, buses—mixing with the sunshine, created a haze. At the corner they waited for the stoplight to change so they could cross the six lanes.
“Downtown Seattle could use these wide lanes,” Gabby said as they hustled to the other side of the street feeling as though they were taking their lives in their hands.
It was 2:05 and the lunch crowd had evacuated the little café. With a cup of coffee and splitting a turkey sandwich, the girls stared at each other.
“I think we are about to step from a local boutique to … to what? Not really the big time. We can’t afford a venue with a ru
nway yet,” Gilly said.
“The runway definitely ranks as the big time,” Gabby replied. “But, you never can tell who’ll drop by, see our line, say at the FOCUS show. And, our fall collection is tailored made for a pitch to the career woman.”
Gilly checked her watch. “We have time to drop by Sheridan’s company. Do you have her address handy? If not I’ll—
“Sit tight. I’ve got it right here.” Gabby pulled out a notepad, flicked through several pages and handed the pad to Gilly.
“She said it wasn’t far from the fashion district, which we are sitting in the middle of,” Gilly said. “Let’s take a cab so we can save time. I’m glad we’re spending the night here. I want to do some major poking around other designer’s specialty shops. Maybe some have participated in the LA show. Give us some tips.”
“Our flight leaves at two tomorrow?” Gabby asked.
“That’s right.” Gilly paid the lunch tab with the company credit card and then the two, refreshed and a new spring in their step, ventured once again into the smoggy sunshine due to the high humidity settling over the city. “I could take this weather in the winter,” Gabby said flagging down a cab.
The cab driver nodded when Gilly gave him the address and sped off merging into traffic. Fifteen minutes later he stopped, ran around to open the door, received payment, and left the girls standing in front of a two-story orange stucco building, attached to a string of identical orange stucco buildings, all looking in need of some repair. The sidewalk had seen better days but the cracks didn’t slow down a couple of kids on skateboards, racing down the cement, jumping the board into the street as they passed Gilly and Gabby, and then jumping back onto the sidewalk. Heat rose from the pavement and they heard a police siren in the distance.
Gabby shrugged her shoulders and the pair walked up to the entrance, a heavy metal door between two smudged windows, and stepped inside.
They faced a counter, a ringing telephone, a dingy empty space, and no one in attendance. A thirty-something man rushed out of a hallway and grabbed the telephone almost dropping the receiver at the sight of two women standing inside the front door.
“Okay. I’ll call you back,” he said and banged the receiver down.
“Now, what can I do for you two?” His tone wasn’t hostile, but he also didn’t look happy to see them. His jeans were baggy to the floor, a pair of scuffed sneakers poking from under a cuff. His name, Zak, was stitched in black on a red tank shirt. He took a swipe at his shoulder length brown hair pushing it out of his eyes.
“We’re looking for Sheridan Cunningham,” Gabby said.
“Oh, well, okay then. Come on back. You buyers? She’s launching a new line you know.”
“Friends,” Gilly said, arching her brows at Gabby.
“Hey, Sher, you have visitors,” Zak shouted.
At the other end of the hallway they stepped into a bright area, the full width of the building, about forty feet and the same depth. Four large windows faced north, light pouring in but no direct sun. Four Mexican looking women, heads bent over their sewing machines, didn’t look up to see who had invaded the shop.
On the opposite wall were tacked sketches—twenty-three in all, penned in color, definitely a fall collection of jackets, dresses, skirts and slacks. Two mannequins stood at the far end of two long library tables pushed together. One mannequin was draped in muslin, the other in a cotton print fabric with colorful large red poppies and clusters of green leaves on a white background.
Sheridan’s head snapped up from her electronic drawing tablet—eyes wide, slack-jawed. Gilly and Gabby were obviously the last two people she expected to see.
“We were in the area,” Gabby said smiling. “Thought we’d drop in.”
“Wow! Zak, meet Gilly and Gabby. Friends of mine from Paris.” Sheridan rushed to the girls, hugging each in turn, and then stepped back shaking her head.
“Want something to drink? Bottle of water?”
“No, thanks,” Gilly said. “We just had lunch. I think we caught you at a bad time. We should have called but—
“Well uh, it is a bad time. We’re trying to finish up four samples to show a couple of buyers—
Zak cut in. “We expect them any minute. Same tomorrow. How about we get together in a couple of days?”
“No. That won’t work,” Gabby said. “Gilly and I are flying back to Seattle tomorrow.”
As Gabby and Sheridan chatted about the possibility of Sheridan rearranging her plans so they could meet for dinner, Gilly walked along the library tables to the mannequin draped in white muslin and then edged her way to the sketches. Scrutinizing the sample with the red poppies on the second mannequin she stole several glances at the sketches tacked to the wall behind the mannequin. She suddenly whirled around, threw her tote on the table and faced Sheridan.
For the second time in less than a few minutes, Sheridan looked startled to see her.
“What the hell are you doing with my designs on your wall?” Gilly yelled.
Gabby immediately strode to the wall to take a look at the renditions.
“I … I … I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sheridan stammered her eyes darting over to Zak.
Gilly whirled back to the wall, stabbed the first print with her index finger. “This is what I’m talking about. My design. And, this one,” she yelled stabbing the next picture several times. “And, this, and this, and … all of them. No wonder you were so shocked to see me. What? You didn’t think we’d ever find out you stole my sketches?”
“Ms. Wilder, I wouldn’t accuse Ms. Cunningham of stealing your designs,” Zak said through clenched teeth. His tone was menacing and the way he squinted, arms across his chest, he appeared ready for a fight.
The four women in the corner conversed in Spanish in loud whispers, fear in their eyes as they scrambled from behind their sewing machines, trying to melt into the wall.
Gilly saw them cower. In a quiet voice she snapped at Sheridan. “I see you employ illegals to do your dirty work.” She looked from Sheridan to Zak to Gabby. Catching Gabby’s eyes shifting to the door, Gilly thought better of another retort. She had seen enough to report Sheridan and her sleazy partner to the police. And once back in Seattle she’d sic Hawk on the pair. Scare them. She didn’t have the money to bring a lawsuit, but they didn’t know that.
Signaling with her eyes, matching Gabby’s, Gilly grabbed her tote off the table and she and Gabby marched down the hallway to the front door.
“I’m really sorry,” Sheridan called out. “Keep in touch. Next time you’re down this way we definitely have to go out for dinner. No hard feelings. Zak and I will show you around.”
Out on the sidewalk the two headed down the street at a fast clip. Gilly, fished her cell out of her tote just as a cab driver exited a drugstore a block away. They ran toward the cab waving their arms. Minutes later they escaped down the street leaving the rundown buildings behind. Gabby gave the driver the name of their hotel and then leaned back in the seat.
Looking straight ahead, both girls alarmed at what they had seen, Gabby said, “If my heart doesn’t quit on me before we reach the hotel, remind me never to cross you. You scared me to death. No, let me amend that. You scared me and I was afraid Zak was going to kill both of us. My God, Gilly, you were yelling, of course, you were justified. Maybe it’s your red hair. You brought a whole new meaning to the word HOT back there.”
The women still leaning back in the cab, shifted their heads to look at each other now that the orange stucco building was several miles behind them, and their breathing had a semblance of being normal, and smiled.
“Red hair or not, I was steamed,” Gilly said. “The nerve. Our entire fall collection on the wall of that crumby, dingy—
“Don’t forget smelly,” Gabby interjected.
“And smelly place. Did you ever see or suspect that, that dark side of Sheridan?” Gilly said.
“Never. But then I’d never seen your steamed side before either,�
� Gabby replied laughing.
In their hotel room, they flopped down on the two queen-sized beds and stared at the ceiling.
“I don’t know about you,” Gabby said looking over at Gilly. “But I’ve had enough adventures for one day. How about we order room service. Then we can draw straws as to which one of us gets to tell Nicole about Sheridan.”
Gilly threw her pillow at Gabby. “I say I get to tell Nicole about Sheridan and Zak and then you tell Maria and Arthur about FOCUS.”
“Man oh man … you never stop. Now you’re pulling rank on me,” Gabby said reaching for the telephone. “Let’s order. I’m starving after this harrowing day with my boss.”
Chapter 16
───
Seattle
TORMENTED BY THEIR VISIT with Sheridan, Gilly and Gabby climbed the stairs from the shoe shop and entered the loft. Like bees to honey they were immediately swarmed with hugs. Arthur even got into the act and then stepped to the side beaming. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself but he wasn’t going to miss seeing the look on Gilly’s face when Maria told her the news.
Nicole and Maria pulled them to the futon then sat Indian style on the floor facing them.
Grinning!
“My God, you two, what happened? Did we win the lottery?” Gilly asked sitting forward laughing at Nicole who couldn’t sit still, jumping up from the floor. Then Maria popped up off the floor.
More grins.
“Better than the lottery,” Nicole squealed.
“What? What?” Gabby asked. She smiled but didn’t know what to make of the pair. Her eyes darted to Arthur who had a permanent smile plastered on his face.
“Gabby …” Maria started to say but paused to catch her breath.
“Yes … go on,” Gabby said locking eyes with Gilly. They both shrugged.
“Gabby,” Maria continued. “I took a call for you from a woman. Deborah Hollingsworth would like you to call her back to discuss an order.”
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 47
