“I hope this is going to be a bit more in-depth than changing the store sign,” Brierley stated sternly. The way in which she spoke, challenging him, put him in mind of Dura, and he swallowed a sudden pang of nerves.
“Most certainly,” he agreed, and he stood from where he had perched and held out his hand to her. “Come here?” He asked.
She was taking a leap of faith when she took his large hand. The size of him offered her a comfort she hadn’t been looking for. When he helped her to navigate around the bench, she had to hold herself back from swooning. He led her to the middle of the small park, where the whooping of excited children running to the beach, and the screaming of seagulls above them added to the sense of drama his bold action had initiated. As he stood behind her, he asked, his hands moved to her shoulders, “What can you see?”
“Um?” She answered.
“What shops?” He elaborated, seeing as she hadn’t understood what he meant.
He could feel her head moving, eyeing each one of the storefronts. There was a store selling buckets and spades for the beach, towels and other trinkets. Another selling ice creams and a spattering of odds and ends, fridge magnets and the perfect souvenir for holidaymakers looking to buy sweet little reminders of their quaint holidays. “Holiday shops?” She asked.
“Exactly!” Breht said enthusiastically, glad that she could see what he could.
“All these shops, they sell as well as they do because they tap into the holiday market. They’re on the main promenade; they can get away with it. I see your shop, trying to do the same, but it's tucked away. There’s not enough footfall to call on to warrant you selling your jewellery for the small amount you charge.”
“But, I can’t..” She started to speak.
“Let me finish,” his deep voice grumbled, but there was no intention for him to come across as abrasive. “There’s another market here, too. Holidaymakers with children are what these shops will appeal to. How do you feel about going upmarket?”
“Um?”
“What my CEO intends on doing with the complex you rent from is getting rid of all the smaller businesses that aren’t cutting it and replacing them with higher earners. What I am intending on doing is beating her to the punch. How do you feel about working with silver?”
She turned to look at him. Her expression was that of being overwhelmed, but there was a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes. “I can’t afford…”
“Not to,” he finished for her. “At the minute, you’re barely scraping by, Brierley,” he reinforced. “You’re doing all the hardwork, you’re running the shop, crafting, everything! And, I get it, it’s hard to see changes, but if you take your amazing work from where it is now, push it to the bespoke, unique design market. You’ll capture the attention of those who’re looking for something special to remember their holidays with. Leave the tacky fridge magnets and bracelets to these cheap promenade stores.”
“Done giving me the hard sell?” She asked.
“Sorry,” he apologised quickly. He’d let his passion and enthusiasm take over him, and he’d forgotten that he wasn’t in the boardroom anymore, giving pitches to potential clients. She needed a more delicate touch.
“Let me show you something,” Breht led her back to the bench and picked up the portfolio case. This was it. Everything he’d tried to explain to her rested on what lay in the case. He unzipped the folio and opened it, passing it over to her to look through.
“If this is me overstepping boundaries, tell me?” He asked. Nibbling at the inside of his cheek. He took hold of his coffee cup as she opened the case, staring into the dark brown liquid to avoid seeing her honest reaction to what he had just presented. If she didn’t like what was within the portfolio, it would be the end of his pitch. His eyes flittered up towards her, and his palms felt so sweaty he had to let go of his coffee. Frankly, his heart was on the line as much as their business agreement. The tips of his tapered ears twitched to her small intake of breath. A gasp. He dared hope. Which bloomed when he saw her awe-inspired reaction.
“These are incredible. Where did you get them?” Her words came over him, and he wasn’t sure how to answer.
It felt arrogant to say that he’d been awake throughout the night, drawing and painting on the folio paper. It wasn’t something that had been encouraged throughout his corporate life; arts and crafts were for other people, not successful business orcs. So, he gave a meek, noncommittal shrug. When he went to speak, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket before it started ringing.
“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology, staring at the screen. Her name was written in bold letters, surrounded by a background of floating hearts - a feeling that was misplaced. He hadn’t put them there. The song rang on, strange tones coming from his phone that was archaic and sounded tinny through the smartphone's speakers. He didn’t recognise the ringtone as his own; Rosani must have got hold of his phone and changed it in an attempt to be romantic. She’d been wrong; he wouldn’t always love her.
“Do you need to get that?” Brierley inquired, interrupting his reverie.
“No,” he said, diverting the call once again, irritated that he wasn’t just being left alone to do his work.
“Did you design these?” She asked, turning the page and looking at each of the jewellery designs in turn. There was a soft tenderness to the hand that had illustrated the items before her. And she was amazed that such a broad, strong-looking orc like Breht could have designed them. She kept looking between him and the papers they’d been drawn on.
“Yes,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t know how viable they’d be to make, but…” he tried to cover up his tracks. Never before had he opened up to a soul about his imaginative artistry, and as he looked at the looping swirls that some of the designs consistedof, he felt embarrassed. Vulnerable under her rapt awe. It was clear that she was impressed with what he’d come up with. Unexpected, he supposed from such a brute! Consternation gripped him tight in its clutches, despite her wonderfully positive reaction.
“These look incredible,” Brierley said, and she was once again interrupted by the sounds of his phone ringing.
He noticed the vexation in her brow as he cancelled the interruption once again.
“They are really determined to talk to you,” Brierley observed.
“Yeah, again, sorry,” he said, turning the phone over in his hands. “You know what, I’ll just turn it off,” he said, bringing the screen back to life and powering it down. Relieved they’d have no more interruptions, he should have done so in the first place. “As I said, I don’t want to be stepping on your toes with these designs; yours are great too, but if we want to tap into the bespoke market, each of the pieces needs to be completely unique. Making them out of silver rather than white metal adds an expense that the market will be expecting.”
As he turned the page, he became aware of the closeness between them. The warmth of her body pressed up against him as he turned the portfolio page. She felt comfortable, relaxed even, as she snuggled against him. “Some of them are a little off-colour, but we can change them to fit the Paua,” he explained.
