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"First of all, I fell in love with your apartment already. I'd love to be able to turn it into a home for you." His apartment, a huge condo at the top of a high-rise, would be a dream to decorate. Since Christopher bought it while still in construction, he had some structural changes made, turning it from a five- to a two-bedroom apartment. This has resulted in delightful and spacious rooms.
"Thanks. Before going into more detail, I have one question. Why did you leave the company you worked at?"
Oh, damn. I was hoping this wouldn't come up. I have an answer ready, of course, but I prefer to avoid the topic. I worked at that company for eight years, putting in long hours and a lot of dedication. When my parents died, things changed. My siblings became my priority. My boss, a woman I had respected almost to the point of worship, decided I wasn't a “good fit” for the company anymore, and fired me. Losing my job was one of the reasons social services didn't think I was a fit guardian. At twenty-nine, I started my own business, which has been exciting and nerve-racking.
"I needed more flexibility for my siblings," I tell Christopher honestly.
"Got it. So, what are the next steps?"
"Which of my pitches didn't you like?" I've found that the easiest way through this is to eliminate the choices that don't fit the client’s taste.
He doesn't miss a beat. "The third and fourth one."
Interesting. Those proposals were modern and minimalistic, the way his office is. I assumed they'd be his favorites. Then again, it's possible he didn't choose the furniture in his office. The multi-story office building exuded power in a way that wasn't ostentatious, but rather spoke of quiet, bone-deep strength. It was elegant too, with its sleek surfaces and minimalist designs.
"And which one did you like most?"
"I liked elements from all the other proposals, but I can't single out one I liked best."
In short, he still doesn't know what he wants, but that's normal at this stage. Sitting again in front of the coffee table, I make some mental notes, my mind already bursting with ideas for his apartment.
"The next step would be for you and me to look through furniture and design catalogs together," I inform him. "This will give both of us a better idea what you want. I can mark some items I think you'd like in advance, but it's really best if we take an hour or two to comb through those catalogs. I can bring them to your office. When do you have time this week?"
"I have back-to-back meetings every day, but I can do Thursday after seven o'clock."
Damn. One of my unique selling propositions is that I'm flexible, trying to accommodate the clients as much as possible, but as a rule, I don't do any meetings after six. The kids and I make a point of eating dinner together, like a family, and I don't want to change that.
"Is four or five o'clock possible on any day? I can also come up early in the morning."
"Afraid not. As I said, my schedule is packed.”
I carefully consider my next words. Twice I’ve had the unpleasant surprise of clients dropping me when they found out about my siblings. They thought I wouldn’t be able to commit one hundred percent to their project. But I have a hunch Christopher isn’t like that. His sisters weren’t either. I adored working for Alice, as well as for Pippa and her husband, Eric. They were a true team, and the love between them was so apparent, I often felt like a third wheel.
At any rate, Christopher saw me arrive with Chloe today. If he’d thought the kids are in my way of committing to his project, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I decide to go out on a limb and be honest.
“The kids and I eat at six thirty every evening, and I—”
“Say no more,” Christopher cuts in. “That’s nice. When I was a kid, we used to have a designated dinnertime too. It really helped keeping things in check. I’ll tell you what. I’ll drop by your house one evening after dinner, if that’s okay with you?”
Wow. No client has offered this before. Warmth fills me, relaxing my limbs.
“Perfect. Thank you. I do have a designated area for my home office. But in the interest of honesty, I rarely receive clients here. The kids haven’t fully grasped the concept of quiet.”
“They’re kids. If they’re quiet, something’s wrong. Don’t worry!” Christopher laughs a lovely, melodic sound.
“When do you want to stop by?”
“Thursday okay?”
“Sure. Shoot." In my enthusiasm, I flapped my free hand a little too energetically, hitting the glitter bottle. I catch it right before it lands on the carpet. “Glitter disaster averted.”
“What?”
“Chloe’s going as the Mad Hatter to a preschool thing, and I’m making her a glittery hat, and… now I’m rambling. Sorry.” Biting my lower lip, I barely suppress a groan. “I seem to have the tendency of making a fool of myself when you’re involved. First the hot chocolate, now this. But I do promise I’m a consummate professional.”
Christopher is silent for so long, I fear he’s about to serve me a line like “I think I’ll find myself another decorator” when he bursts out laughing. “You’re something, Victoria. For the record, the Mad Hatter is a great costume idea. I never had better ideas than a zombie, vampire, and pirate.”
“Really? I had the craziest costume ideas. Things took a turn for the unoriginal toward the end of high school though. I dressed up as sexy bunny one year for Halloween just to spite my parents.” I realize one second too late what I just said and how this doesn’t belong in a professional conversation at all. Me and my big mouth, damn it. “Right… I seem to go from bad to worse tonight. How about ending this call, so I can keep up any pretense of seriousness?”
