I glanced at Pell, who lifted his eyebrow.
“Look, I
She stared moodily into her fruit cup. “It’s so bloody unfair. I finally learn where she is and I’m too late. Her father died in December, did you know that? Her only living relative and he dies a week before I get there. I did meet a woman who knew her as a child and that was interesting. Her mother was extremely proper—white gloves and ladies calling on each other every afternoon for formal tea. That frilly dress she’s wearing now could’ve been one of her mother’s tea gowns.”
I frowned. “I thought you said this was your first real trip south.”
“I meant this whole assignment,” she said hastily. “Besides, I was only down there two days. Just long enough to visit her in the nursing home and start to talk to her and Bam! Next day, she’s gone. Just walks away without checking out. Her doctor said I’d stirred up too many memories. How was I to know she’d take off like that? When she’s off her medications, she thinks Drew Patterson’s her daughter. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” Pell said quietly. “We know.”
Heather suddenly looked at him with interest. “Pell Austin. Hey, you’re a designer, too, aren’t you? At Mulholland?”
Pell nodded.
“I bet you’ve known Savannah forever, haven’t you?”
“Over twenty years,” he admitted.
“What was she like back then?”
Pell started to tell her the same things he’d told me, but Heather brushed that aside.
“Other people have told me about her innovations,” she said. “But what was she like as a person? As a woman in a man’s world?”
“There have always been women in this industry.”
“A few tokens,” she said impatiently. “We all know the real powers in this business still wear three-piece suits and piss standing up. You think I haven’t sat in restaurants here waving my empty cup for more coffee while any man gets his topped off automatically? Dish me some dirt. Who did she have to sleep with to get her first big break?”
“Sorry,” he said lightly. “I wasn’t here then. She was twelve years older than I and already an established name when they gave me the studio next to hers, so if there’s any dirt, it was shoveled under long before I got here.”
Heather smiled suddenly and her dark eyes glowed as she patted his arm as if she were the forty-two-year-old professional and he the tyro of twenty-four. “She must have been pretty special to keep a friend like you all these years.”
Her tone was wistful.
Pell laughed and stood up. “Come on,” he said. “Why don’t you let me introduce you to Pasquale Natuzzi? Now there’s someone colorful enough for a whole series of magazine articles. The man’s revolutionized upholstered goods. Put affordable leather within everyone’s reach.”
“I’ve met Signor Natuzzi and I agree that he’s interesting, but I really want to do Savannah first.”
Pell threw up his hands. “Good luck to you then. Ready to go, Deborah? I told Dix we’d pick her up by five.”
It was only a little after four, but I didn’t argue. “Do
I didn’t.
Instead, we wound up stopping past the Stanberry showroom where I was the one making introductions. I showed Pell the headboard I’d put a down payment on. He was quite interested, got caught up in the Stanberrys’ enthusiasm and even suggested a couple of useful design modifications that had Mai and Jeff Stanberry nodding thoughtfully.
“You know, I can think of at least two chains who could fit these headboards into their stores very nicely,” Pell said and rattled off the names of some head buyers. “Give me your card and I’ll send them around.”
The Stanberrys were so excited by the prospect that they almost didn’t want to take my check for the balance I owed them.
Almost, but not quite.
Dixie was waiting for us in high good humor.
“One of my retailers finally got some of his own back,” she said as we miraculously found a half-empty elevator after waiting only eight minutes.
“How?” we obligingly asked her.
“You know those flipping eight-hundred numbers?”
She’d lost me.
“Only because you haven’t bought much furniture in your lifetime. Open any home furnishings magazine or tune into any home-shopping program and you’ll see ads exhorting you to call a one-eight-hundred number—‘Buy direct from the manufacturer at wholesale prices,’ they say.”
“That’s bad?”
“Disaster for my people. In the first place, buying direct means a lost sale for my little retailer. In the second place, Ms. Bargain Hunter never buys sight unseen. She wants to see the piece, sit on it, feel the fabric samples, maybe even use the computerized video display to see exactly what that fabric will look like on the couch she intends to buy. So she goes to my retailer, ties him up for an hour or two, writes down the style numbers, thanks him sweetly, then goes home and dials one-eight-hundred.
