(Not) The Boss of Me - Kenzie Reed Page 0,54

watch her eyes go wide.

The ballroom has been converted to a “Round the World in Eighty Days” theme. Miniature hot air balloons drift overhead; larger hot air balloons are hung from the ceiling, with ladders so guests can ascend and take pictures. We’ve created backdrops from a dozen different cities around the world, with themed buffet tables and bars featuring the food and drink from each locale, served by staff flown in from each country we’re representing, dressed in attire representing their national heritage.

World music drifts from hidden speakers, pitched exactly high enough to be enjoyed but not interfere with conversation. Small stages scattered around the room feature dance troupes and acrobats from around the globe.

The guests in their finery flit like exotic tropical birds, swirling and posing and preening. Champagne and chocolate fountains burble merrily.

"It's stunning," she says with sincere appreciation. “You have amazing set designers on your staff.”

I smile, without a trace of irony or sarcasm for once. “I do, don’t I? This is what Hudson’s is all about. The actual in-person experience. Leaving your cubicle or apartment and stepping away from the screen and living life.”

She gives me a surprised sidelong glance. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“That’s why it’s so important to me that Hudson’s survives and thrives and expands. It’s not just the fact that more stores equals more money. We’re already massively profitable. Hudson’s is a place that brings people together.”

Passion swells inside me, lighting my words with an inner flame. “I know I sound like one of our advertisements, but everything about our store is designed to be a sensual, real-world experience that goes far beyond a shopping trip. We encourage people to leave their cubicle, leave their home office, and come together in a way that’s so increasingly rare these days, and yet so important. We constantly work to keep people walking through our doors, and even more, we strive to make it a shared experience. That’s why we have plays, concerts, book signings, magicians, art exhibits, children’s puppet shows, cooking classes, interior decorating classes. Our store is a destination, not just a shopping center.”

“That’s amazing. I’m looking at it in a whole new light.” She cocks her head to the side. “Is there a particular reason for choosing London and Paris as your next locations?”

A flare of defensiveness burns through me. I tamp it down. She’s not attacking my father’s choices, she’s genuinely curious.

“A store like Hudson’s needs a certain clientele in order to survive, which means we need to be located in certain destinations. It also needs specific types of suppliers. Another thing that’s unique about Hudson’s is the craftmanship that goes into our goods. Our luxury goods are expensive, but that’s because they’re handcrafted to a level that’s unusual these days. We’re keeping entire traditions of lacemaking and weaving and cabinetry alive, just to name a few examples. This kind of store needs designers and craftsmen who can provide us with that type of artistry in large quantities, and the areas in and around London and Paris are rich with those types of old-world style tradesmen.”

Winona stares at me with a light shining from her eyes like I’ve never seen before. “Wow. You’re hot when you talk about your store like that. You should do it more often.” Then her cheeks flame red with embarrassment. “Oh, lima beans. My brain sometimes operates on a delay circuit and my mouth just says things. What I meant, was… Anyway… We should, uh, you know…” She waves in the direction of the ballroom.

I take pity on her. “Yes. We should.”

She called me hot. And she wasn’t talking about my looks. She was talking about me. My passion. My dreams. She gets it, and she gets me. I know she feels the same way I do. I mean, this is a woman who hand-makes her own outfits, turning them into unique glimpses of her personal self, with beautiful results every time.

My entire body floods with an emotion that I can’t even name, but it’s light and sweet and makes my heart thump in a happy, silly rhythm.

I grasp her hand in mine and lead her through the crowd. Henry is standing by the Parisian bar, chatting with Thérèse. She gives me her usual cold, appraising look, then turns her back on me. Henry waves, indicating he’s seen me. He’ll discreetly keep an eye on me and appear at my side if I need him.

Winona arches an eyebrow. “Henry has nowhere else he’d

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