Page 43 of Awaiting the Storm (Wildhaven #1)
Sophie
“S tall them until I get there. Offer them coffee and doughnuts or a margarita or ten. Whatever it takes to keep their asses in those seats,” I instruct my assistant, Charlotte, as I frantically try to hail a cab.
The electricity to my building was cut while I was in the middle of washing my hair this morning.
A construction worker on the building site at the corner had dug in an area that he wasn’t supposed to and cut our main power line.
I got out of the shower, tried to get myself dressed appropriately in the dark, and towel-dried my long blonde hair as best I could.
Then, I threw it up in an unflattering top knot and ran out the door, only to find the elevator was in slow motion, running on the backup generator.
This left me with the option of waiting a long while for an elevator packed full of frustrated occupants or to take the stairs down the ten flights to the lobby.
I opted for the stairs—bad choice. Ten flights down on my sky-high Manolos was a dangerous undertaking, and it took forever, so now, I’m facing rush-hour traffic in Midtown Manhattan on an unusually warm September day, heading to meet with what will undoubtedly be some pretty put-out business associates when I finally make it in.
Charlotte and I have been friends since we were in middle school.
She was the first person I met when Mom and I arrived in New York over twenty years ago.
Why my mother placed me in a private Catholic school is beyond me—I had been raised Baptist—but I’m so glad she did.
I would have been lost without Charlotte and her blonde pixie cut and no-nonsense attitude.
Right now, however, she is a tad frantic. Like a little fairy flitting around me.
“The gentleman’s name is Marcus Stedman. He’s the general manager of the Park Avenue store, and the lady’s name is …”
“Gail Caldwell, the head buyer for all of the Maple and Park department stores. I know who she is.” I snatch the folders she just dug from her briefcase and pass her my coat and bag as we hurry down the hall.
“They’ve had coffee and doughnuts, and I entertained them with stories from my SoulCycle class. Thank God you’re here because I don’t think they want to hear about last night’s disaster of a date, and I’m running out of interesting material.”
Dear Lord. If I’m able to save this deal, it will be a miracle.
I stop in the hallway leading to the conference room and take a moment to compose myself. “How do I look?”
“Like a wet puppy who ran all the way here from Chelsea.”
“Perfect, just the look I was going for. How do I smell?”
Charlotte leans in and wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Like an old gym bag.”
Awesome.
She reaches in her briefcase, grabs a bottle, and liberally spritzes me.
“Ugh, what was that?”
“Perfume. It’ll help.”
“Perfect. Now, I smell like a sweaty flower.”
“There’s nothing you can do about it. They aren’t here to sniff you anyway. Go.” She shoves me toward the door. “They’re here to pitch to you, not the other way around.”
I turn back to her and say in a small voice, “Tell me we deserve this.”
“You deserve this, Sophie,” she confirms.
“We,” I correct her. “We deserve this.”
She smiles a pleased smile. “We deserve this. Now, go get ’em.”
I smooth the front of my dress and take a deep, calming breath before I open the door and walk in.
All eyes turn to me as I make my way to the head of the conference table and introduce myself.
“Hello, Gail, Marcus. I’m Sophia Lancaster.
” I clear my throat and continue, “But you can call me Sophie. Please accept my sincere apology for keeping you waiting. There was an unavoidable hiccup at my building this morning that delayed me.”
Marcus shifts to extend his hand to me. Annoyance clear in his expression.
Gail offers her hand next with a genuine smile. “It happens. I’m afraid we’re going to have to jump right into business though. We have another meeting in an hour.”
“Of course.”
She taps on the laptop in front of her, and the screen of the television on the opposite wall illuminates with a PowerPoint presentation.
“As you know, Maple and Park is interested in a partnership. We would like for you to design a few exclusive pieces to be sold only in our stores and online through our website.”
A small thrill shoots through me at the thought of my jewelry designs being sold in one of Park Avenue’s trendiest department stores.
“When you say exclusive pieces, that means, we can’t sell other designs to other partners or on our website, correct?”
She looks up and smiles warmly. I’m obviously new to all of this.
“No, you are only obligated to keep the pieces we approve exclusive to Maple and Park. You can continue to design and sell anything else privately or through any other retail outlets.”
I give her an appreciative nod as Marcus takes over.
“We want new designs. Something no one else has seen or worn before. We’ve outlined what we’re looking for to help you.
Simple. Elegant. We’ll start small with a few pendants, rings, and bracelets.
Test the market. If those do well, we can revisit our contract and extend to earrings and brooches.
We want to launch the line before the holiday season, so that gives you a couple of weeks to get with our art department and get samples in. ”
“Okay, I can get some sketches together fairly quickly. Do you have projected sales? As of now, our newly purchased warehouse is being renovated and equipped to begin assembly, and I think we’ll be up and running within the month.
My staff is still minimal, but we’re interviewing. Depending on the volume—”
He puts his hand in the air to halt my rambling.
“We realize you’re a start-up. We’re buying the designs, and the customers will know and appreciate they are custom pieces.
So, at first, we’ll need a small amount for display and for purchase at our two locations. Online orders can be made to order.”
Relief replaces the tension that was strumming through my body.
I started designing quirky jewelry pieces while I was a student at New York School of Design.
I would sketch out each unique piece, then buy the materials, and make them by hand in my apartment at night.
I sold a few of them at the Williamsburg open market in Brooklyn on weekends, and that led to me opening an online Etsy shop.
It was a way to make easy money while finishing my degree.
Sales were steady enough, and I was pleased to be creating something.
Then, one day this past June, my world exploded when the Judy Winston wore one of my brooches to the Tony Awards.
She won for Best Actress in a Musical and was photographed with her award, wearing my piece front and center on her gown.
She later that night told an E! News interviewer that she had purchased it from my online site.
The next day, orders started pouring in—hundreds and hundreds of orders.
There was no way I could fulfill the volume from my living room.
That was when Stanhope stepped in. Stanhope Marshall is one of the most successful businessmen in Manhattan, and he just so happens to be married to my mother, Vivian.
He came to me with a proposition, and just like that, I had my first investor in Sophia Doreen Designs, LLC.
It’s been a whirlwind ever since. Now, I have a sleek office in an uptown building owned by Stanhope; twelve full-time employees, including Charlotte; and a warehouse in the Fashion District that is being converted into a workshop as we speak.
I’m about to close my first major deal to have my line in a real-life brick-and-mortar store.
Exciting doesn’t begin to describe this feeling.
After we hash out costs and crunch numbers, they stand to leave with a signed contract in hand.
“Thank you for your time, Sophie. I think this is going to be a profitable relationship for both our companies. I love your designs and think they will fit perfectly with the Maple and Park brand.” Gail squeezes my hand before they enter the elevator.
Marcus gives me a quick wink as the doors slide shut, and I release the breath I’ve been holding since I walked into the meeting.
Charlotte comes bounding out from behind her desk and skids to a halt in front of me. “Well?” Her eyes, full of nervous anticipation, expectantly stare into mine.
“We did it,” I whisper through a huge grin.
“Oh my,” she squeals as we both start jumping up and down. “I knew you would nail it. In spite of the wet doughnut on your head and your sweaty pits.”
“Thanks. We need to celebrate.”
“Okay, I’ll call and get us a table at Marea for seven p.m. Just us?”
“And my parents. I’m going to call Stanhope now and tell him the good news. I know Mom will want to rush right over.”