As planned, Baby used the next morning for shopping and Kit and Dara worked out of the office. With input from Dara, Kit narrowed down the fabric choices for Avery’s cottage: white with blue piping for the living room sofa; a pale blue and white stripe for the bleached, rounded-back dining chairs; a subtle lavender floral print for the guest room duvet; various shades of white and cream for the master bedroom. Next Dara mounted swatches onto boards along with photos of the suggested furniture. The fabrics were subtle, almost muted-looking on the boards, but Kit knew that once they were mixed with teardrop chandeliers, gilt-framed mirrors, and billowing, sheer white curtains, the end result would be enchanting.
“Oh, I forgot to tack on a sample for the living room rug. Hand me that piece of sisal, will you?”
“Tell me why you chose that.”
“With so much white and cream in the room, it needs to be grounded.”
“Ah, got it. Do you think Avery can concentrate long enough to recognize how exquisite this is going to be?” Dara asked.
“She seems to trust me and she’s got nice taste, so I suspect she’ll say she loves it,” Kit said. “Ideally you want people to be fully engaged, to visit the showrooms with you and sit in the chairs so they know exactly what they’re getting. The big problem with clients like Avery, the ones who don’t have the time or patience to do that as you go along, comes when you reach the very end. They finally focus and make statements like, “Wait, when did we decide to use so much white?”
“And what do you do then? Besides want to bitch slap them?”
Kit smiled. “Tap dance a bit. At least I do, and Baby does, too. Some designers will just announce, ‘It is what it is,’ but I try to fix what I can. For instance, if they think there’s not enough color, I’ll add a bit more with accessories. Speaking of clients, what did you think of Steven Harper, the hotel developer?”
“Mr. Man Tan, you mean? Baby had me research him but I couldn’t find much. Just that he’s an investor who’s gotten into hotels only recently. But it could be a sweet piece of business, that’s for sure.”
“How about personally? You spent more time with him than I did.”
“That’s the catch. He seems awfully high maintenance. When he said he needed O.J., he expected me to jump.”
Kit had picked up the same vibe as Dara, even in her brief encounter. But Baby was an expert at dealing with the blustery and demanding clients and she’d be the one handling Harper for the most part.
She emailed Avery next, informing her that she had completed the boards and was eager for her reaction so she could start ordering furniture and fabric. Avery wrote back minutes later saying she was “crazy busy,” but could send a messenger for the boards tomorrow.
Once Baby returned, Kit grabbed her coat and flew out of there. She made an inspection of the most recent work at the Griggs’ Greenwich Village apartment and then headed farther uptown to shop for a Gustavian floor clock for Avery’s cottage. Each time she emerged from a different place, she found herself checking the street, watching to make sure no one was watching her. All she wanted was for her life to be normal again, the fear to be gone. She checked the time. Four hours until her rendezvous at Jacques.
As she exited the last store on her list, feeling the now familiar wave of discomfort that happened each time she stepped onto the street, Keith Holt called her.
“Have you got a minute?” he asked. In the background she could hear echoing footsteps and snatches of conversation, as if he might be standing in the middle of a hospital corridor.
“Of course. What’s up?”
“I was actually hoping we could meet today, perhaps for an espresso. I’ve put together the clippings and I’d love to deliver them to you.”
Yikes, she thought. She’d counted on the fact that with the demands of Holt’s job, the clipping task would keep him busy for at least a week or two, buying her time to catch up with her other projects.
“I’m actually just finishing a shopping expedition for another client.”
“Where are you at the moment?”
The bluntness of the question caught her off guard.
“Uh, the Upper East Side.”
“I bet you’re not far from the hospital. I could meet you in a half an hour or so.”