Page 55 of Meant to be Mine

“And it’s fine,” he said. “It’s clean. The layout works. The color palette is very Blackwell. It’s also very safe.”

“That’s what I thought. Boring.”

“You’ve got a premium fashion brand setting up a market in front of a flagship store in Beverly Hills and the design reads like a corporate retreat at a nice hotel.” He paused. “It doesn’t feel like summer. It feels very New York. We’re not New York.”

I leaned back in my chair and looked at the ceiling. “So we’re on the same page.”

“We’re on the same page.” I heard him shift, the creak of a chair.

“So what are you thinking?”

“Okay.” I could practically see his expression. When he got into creative mode, it was best to get out of his way. He got a faraway look in his eyes and usually did a lot of talking with his hands. “Forget the tent structures New York proposed. Standard event tents are fine for a corporate activation. This isn’t that. You’ve got a plaza. You’ve got natural light and a building that already has presence. You don’t need to hide it under a canopy.”

“So what do we do instead?”

“Umbrellas,” he said. “But not the Home Depot kind. Think Italian market. Think old lemon grove. You string them with lights and greenery and you run them in clusters so the space feels like a series of rooms instead of one big open lot. People wander through them. They discover things. Every vendor section feels like its own little world.”

I reached for a pen and pulled a notepad toward me. “I like it.”

“The vendor stations themselves need to feel like they belong to the store and the neighboring stores. Not like a pop-up. Not like a street fair with matching banners.”

“What about the music situation?” I asked. “New York had a DJ platform staged at the north end of the plaza.”

“Move it,” he said. “Center it. Make it the heart of the whole thing. Not elevated, not on a stage. Level with the market floor so the DJ is part of the experience instead of performing above it. You want people to feel like they wandered into something, not that they were invited to watch something.”

“I’ve already got the food trucks lined up,” I said.

“Rich people block party,” he joked.

“That’s exactly the vibe. I like the idea of ditching the tents. I want it to feel more natural.”

“I’ve got some more ideas,” Micah said. “But I need to see the space again. Can I come by?”

“Now?”

“Why not? You’re there, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”

“On my way.” He hung up before I could say anything else.

I set my phone down and looked back at the notes I’d been scribbling. The New York layout was sitting in a PDF on my desktop, and every time I looked at it, I felt the same low-grade dissatisfaction I’d been trying to articulate for three days. Micah had been on the same page. My cousins and their operation were impressive, but it was a different vibe. I was lucky Micah wasn’t working on a movie set and could tap into his infinite creativity.

Kensey appeared in the doorway with her travel mug and her bag over one shoulder and her hair loose. Damn, I didn’t remember her being so beautiful. I must have been blind.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning.” She set her bag down at her desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong but our morning is going to be a little different than usual.”

“How so?”

“Micah’s on his way over. He’s got ideas for the market setup. Good ones, actually. The New York layout isn’t working.”

She nodded. “I know it’s not.”

“You didn’t say anything.”