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Addison’s enthusiasm bolstered Emma’s sagging confidence. “What would I do without you?”
“Fortunately, you’ll never have to know. Now, put on some Prada and get going.”
An hour later, Emma stepped into Biella’s, and paused just inside the glass doors. Fidgeting with her gold hoop earring, she scanned the large space. The exclusive downtown Houston jewelry store had been split into two parts. Diamonds and precious stone rings occupied one side, while necklaces, bracelets, watches and men’s jewelry filled the cases on the other. Tones of cinnamon, gold and slate cradled the expensive collections. Copper-toned mirrors lined the walls behind the displays, reflecting the golden light from crystal chandeliers. Emma’s feet sank into plush, dark gray carpet as she circled the room.
Little had changed since she’d honed her skills here as an apprentice goldsmith five years ago. The ambiance remained luxurious and elegant. The store owed as much of its success to the quality of the shopping experience as to the uniqueness of its merchandise.
An eager, smiling sales associate appeared ready to offer the knowledgeable assistance expected at Biella’s. The redhead must be a new hire; otherwise, she’d recognize Emma and realize she wasn’t a customer.
Emma approached the cases, drawing the sales consultant like a shark to fresh blood.
“Aren’t these beautiful? A local artist does the work. Is there something you’d like to see up close?”
Thinking that she’d seen each and every piece up close already, Emma smiled at the clerk, appreciating her enthusiasm. “I was wondering if Thomas was around.”
Thomas McMann was Biella’s manager, and Emma’s former boss. He’d been the one to propose the idea of consignment; Emma had hoped to sell the pieces outright. She understood his reluctance to take on so much inventory. Considering her lack of reputation, the price she’d assigned to each piece and the quality of the designs, he might not want to take a chance on such untraditional items.
“I’ll see if he’s available.”
“Thanks.”
While the girl disappeared into a back room, Emma counted the pieces in the display case to see if anything had been sold. Another two of the smaller pieces were missing. She breathed a sigh of relief. That meant another $3,000 in the bank.
It would make a little dent in the $35,000 she still had to put back. It was a huge amount to earn in five weeks, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t daunted by the prospect, but failure meant she couldn’t show her father and Nathan that she was a capable, independent woman who deserved to make her own choices about who she married and when.
Too bad she hadn’t known about her father’s plans for Nathan five months ago. She might not be in her current predicament. When her father first cut her off, it took her two months to go through a quarter of the money, and another thirty days before the reality of her troubles began sinking in.
She enjoyed designing and creating jewelry, but she’d never considered pursuing it as a career. It had been Addison who’d suggested that Emma could make enough money to keep herself afloat if she stuck with creating spectacular, one-of-a-kind pieces.
Unfortunately, setting herself up with the equipment and supplies she needed put another dent in the hundred thousand, and another thirty days melted away before she’d produced enough pieces to show the manager of Biella’s what she could do. In the end, her hard work had paid off, and the first dollars she’d earned by selling what she’d made had given her a huge thrill.
“Hello, Emma,” a soft nasal voice greeted. Tall and as thin as a cartoon rendering of Ichobod Crane, all elbows and skinny legs, Thomas McMann had a beak for a nose and incredible bedroom eyes framed by sumptuous eyelashes that belonged to a cover girl. “Did you see we sold three more pieces?”
“Three?” She rechecked. Sure enough. A little glow blossomed around her heart. She recognized it as confidence, something she’d been sorely lacking for the last eleven months. “That’s terrific.” She took the envelope he extended, resisting the urge to tear it open and see the size of the check.
“I hope you’ve brought us some new pieces.”
“Actually, I was hoping to take these back.” She pointed to the jewelry in the case. “I was invited to participate in an art and design show, and you have all my inventory.”
“Oh. That’s a problem.” He looked at her somberly. “Your jewelry is really starting to sell, and we have two months left on our contract.”
By that he meant he wasn’t willing to give up the forty percent commission he took from each piece. Emma chewed on her lower lip.
