Read A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree Online

Authors: Janet Dailey

A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (9 page)

BOOK: A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree
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Whew. That meant Nicole would be paid soon, which meant she could pay her crew before Christmas. She even had time to complete the second window. If she could come up with an idea as good as the first.
She texted back a thank-you, exclamation point, and tucked the phone back in her purse. Nicole picked up her portfolio and kept on going.
To round out her portfolio, Nicole had done a few sketches for the window that remained unfinished and added them to the photos she’d printed of the completed cityscape scene that captured every detail.
Finn wanted to see what she was up to. But the ENJ job didn’t require thinking.
No improvising allowed. She knew every element in the windows had been designed and approved in advance, which was fine with her. Sometimes being creative was more work than she’d bargained for.
Nicole had done all-nighters before but not for a while. You got your orders and you did whatever it took to complete the windows before the store opened.
She thought back. Her first one, she’d been a few credits away from completing her degree in art and desperate for work to help pay the last of her tuition. She hadn’t even minded having her armpit in the face of a complete stranger while they both drove nails into a splintery structure that really wanted to fall down on them.
Nicole stopped in front of her destination. The windows were already covered with huge sheets of white paper.
She moved to the enormous glass doors of the front entrance, remembering just in time to remove the plastic bag that covered her portfolio. She stuffed it into a pocket, squooshing out all the air to make it fit, then went through the doors, which swung inward at a touch.
She spotted Finn as soon as she walked in. Gangly and red-haired, he was hard to miss, especially on a ladder, where he was adding a few accessories to a high display.
His eyebrows, also red, went up when he saw her, and he broke into a gap-toothed grin. “Hi, Nicole!”
Shoppers, intent on hunting down bargains, moved aside as she went by. There weren’t any out where you could see them in the pricey store, Nicole knew that. The clearance racks were down a short flight of stairs and in the back.
She walked his way, but not quickly, to get a feel for the visual displays that were already in place. The way the aisles were set up—narrow where management wanted people to slow down, wide in other spots to encourage flow to high-profit areas—guided customers without making them aware of it. Retail consultants did that: systems for every aspect of shopping boosted profits noticeably.
Jingle, jingle.
A Christmas carol rocked out over the sound system. Subtly speeding up the music made people shop a little faster.
The holidays were crucial to the bottom line. A Fifth Avenue flagship store was a very big deal, and the daily take was closely tracked in December, sometimes by the hour.
She didn’t envy the sales associates. They were under constant pressure to meet goals that got set higher every year. All she had to do was follow directions and stay awake.
Finn stepped off the ladder and folded it up. He held it in one hand and motioned for her to come over.
“I’m early,” she said. “Sorry about that.”
He gave her a friendly wink. “Not a problem. I’m glad we have time to talk before everyone else shows up.”
Nicole followed him, eager to get behind the scenes so she could unwrap her scarf and take off her wet jacket and hat.
Finn stashed the ladder in a utility area behind the main display wall and unlocked a door with a key from the ring on his belt. “Welcome to my nightmare,” he joked.
She walked into a room that was filled with bald mannequins and scattered with plaster arms and legs. Some mannequins were in halves, with legs stretching up to the ceiling and torsos resting on the floor. Shiny, artificial wigs for them were clipped to an improvised clothesline that stretched across a wall. One old wig had been turned into a freaky critter with googly eyes on springs and slung onto a featureless head.
Huge cardboard boxes were filled with items marked down or returned so often they were no longer for sale. The staff got the pick of those. Other boxes held plastic hangers tossed in every which way. Nicole knew if she picked up one, all the others would come with it in a giant clump.
The ENJ design team had to eat on the run, she could see that. She noted a half-eaten hot dog in a bun in the palm of an extended plaster hand.
“Is that your lunch?” she asked Finn.
“Yes.” He picked it up. “How did you know?”
“The extra mustard.”
She and Finn had devoured way too many dirty-water dogs from street carts in their art school days. Nicole didn’t think she could ever eat another.
Finn finished off his meager meal in a couple of big bites. “Late in the day, but better than nothing. They don’t let us go out to eat just because it’s noon, you know. By the way, the new visual manager is a real pain. His name is Xandro.”
“Never heard of him.”
Finn spelled it out. “No last name. Just Xandro. I think it means ‘slave driver’ on whatever planet he’s from. Stay out of his way.”
“Okay. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the boss.”
Finn made a wry face. “I wish. But I’m dying to see your portfolio. C’mon, we can sit over here.” He pushed aside a heap of tagged tops and jeans that she guessed would go on the mannequins eventually. “Hang on a sec.”
“Okay.”
He reached into the tangled garments and pulled out a beautiful top in shimmering green. “Just wanted to set that aside for my beloved. Can’t beat that forty percent employee discount. Janey looks fantastic in green.”
Nicole was taken aback. They’d exchanged e-mails, but she hadn’t actually seen much of Finn in the last couple of years even though they both lived in Manhattan. Somehow their infrequent conversations had never touched on their personal lives. “You’re still with her?”
“Of course. We’re going to get married in the spring. ”
Nicole felt a slight pang. Her various relationships hadn’t lasted. But then... she hadn’t wanted them to.
“How about you, Miss Busy? Found time for a boyfriend yet?”
Finn’s offhand comment stung a little. She wasn’t going to let it show.
“I just met a cowboy from Colorado,” she answered quickly.
“You’re kidding. A real cowboy?”
“He walks like one.” Nicole blushed a bit when her friend shot her an amused look. “But maybe he’s a rancher. I know there’s a difference. I mean, he lives on a ranch—look, I didn’t get all the details.”
Flustered, she paused for a moment.
“That doesn’t sound like you,” Finn mused.
Nicole cleared her throat. “His name is Sam Bennett and he’s in New York for the next four weeks, doing Christmas installations with a city crew. I needed some help, with a window, he happened to walk by, and, um, he volunteered.”
“Sounds rooooomantic,” Finn teased, trying to sabotage her quick recovery.
Nicole shrugged. Her old pal didn’t need to know about a mere kiss, even if it had happened only an hour ago and left her tingling. That subject was slated for discussion with Sharon Levitt, her best friend.
They hadn’t seen each other in way too long. Like her, Sharon worked on windows but as a team member, not solo. They liked to talk, eat, and stay in for rented DVD marathons, watching corny romantic movies one after another and laughing their heads off.
But both of them tended to get teary over the classics. However, Sharon could analyze an onscreen kiss and figure out how it would affect the plot in less time than it took to polish off a bottle of chardonnay between them. She was pretty good with real relationships too.
Nicole knew that meeting Sam in no way qualified as one of those. But she was going to call Sharon tonight.
“Don’t be so juvenile” was Nicole’s answer to Finn.
Setting the tote where she could find it later, she untied the strings on her portfolio and flipped to the sketches and photos of the Christmas windows. Finn sat down beside her, taking his time to study the details. “These are fantastic, Nicole. The now-and-then streetscape is great. Where is this place? I gotta walk by.”
“Upper West Side.” She told him the nearest cross street. “You don’t think the concept is too sentimental?”
“Hell, no. Anything heartwarming is a big draw. And I love the moving elements—the snow, the rink. You get the kids to take a peek, you got the moms. And then the dads hear about a great window from the kids and go in to do last-minute shopping—you know how it works.”
Nicole nodded. “The owner took off before I could show her the redesign, but she just texted me that she loved it.”
“What inspired you?” Finn was looking at the first, preliminary drawings. “These are totally different. I mean, they’re okay, but they don’t grab me.”
“I hired a new kid. He fell off a ladder and destroyed the backdrop. We had to start over, but I didn’t mind. I never was all that happy with the first version.”
“So you ended up doing twice the work for the same pay.” He chuckled.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know where you’re coming from on that. I like to get it right.” He leafed through the rest of the drawings. “Did any of these get built, or are they at the idea stage?”
Nicole shook her head to the first part of his question. “No. Just ideas. Strictly imaginary.”
“The windows of New York need you, Nicole. You gotta start showing your stuff to more people,” Finn said in a friendly way.
“Like who?”
He lifted his head as if he was listening to something. “Sounds like they’re closing. Let’s talk about this later.” He set the portfolio on a high table and left it open.
“Is the meeting going to be in here?”
Finn shook his head. “Nope. In the shoe department. It’s the only place with enough seating.”
“How many freelancers did you hire?”
Finn did a rough count in his head. “Five windows, four people in each, so that’s twenty—un—less someone doesn’t show.”
She smiled wryly. “That can happen.”
He picked up a piece of paper with a scribbled list of names that had been divided into columns. She saw her name at the top of one.
“I’m putting you in charge of three others into a window at the front. I’ll decide which one after Xandro does his presentation.”
The two big windows to either side of the front entrance were the most important. They weren’t called focus windows for nothing.
“Thanks,” Nicole said eagerly.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Finn answered with a shake of his head. “We have a long night ahead.”
They exited the mannequin room and walked through the store. The sales associates helped the last customers finish shopping, and one unlocked the door as each left.
The CLOSED sign went up. A security guard took over the locking and unlocking, letting in the freelancers as they arrived.
The usual ragtag group of art students and design freaks, Nicole thought with an inward smile. Some of their outfits were pretty strange, but you didn’t dress to kill, you dressed to survive. They would be working nonstop under hot lights, crawling over and around each other for hours in the papered-up windows.
 
 
“Okay, people, listen up. This is the concept,” Xandro began. “I want to show the other side of Christmas. The bad side.”
Nicole could imagine the stares the narrow-faced man was getting from the front rows, but no one said a word. Behind heavy, black-framed glasses, his eyes were hard to see. His long, dark hair was thinning on top, drawn back into a limp ponytail.
“The mood is disillusionment,” Xandro went on. “Somber colors. Empty gift boxes. Unpaid bills. Ripped jeans that look tough enough to get our customer through the real holidays. I’m talking urban grit, not spun sugar ...”
Nicole turned slightly to Finn, eyes wide. He was straddling a low bench with slanted mirrors built into the base, next to her in the back row. She hoped the visual manager couldn’t hear her whisper, “Sounds grim. Is he for real?”
“Apparently,” Finn muttered. “But I’d like to know how he got ENJ corporate to approve a concept like that.”
Some sixth sense made him look up when Xandro pointed to him. “Excuse me, Finn. Is that you talking? Do you have questions?”
“No.”
“Then let’s move on. Here are the sketches.”
His assistant set up one for each of the five windows on lightweight easels.
“Finn will assign people to teams with specific responsibilities for parts of the overall design. He and I will be checking to see that everyone stays on track and on time as the hours go by. Let’s meet our goals, people.”
Xandro snapped his fingers, and Finn rose with a sigh that only Nicole could hear. He moved in front of the freelancers.
BOOK: A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree
2.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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