Dating Game (18 page)

Chapter 14

Paris parked her car
on Sacramento Street on Monday morning at ten to nine, and went to the black door with the brass knocker next to the shop, where Sydney had told her to go. And she noticed with embarrassment that her hands were shaking when she rang the bell. She was wearing a trim black suit, and high-heeled black shoes, her hair was neatly pulled back in a bun, and she had small diamond studs at her ears. She felt a little overdressed, but she wanted him to see that she would look proper at parties, and this was an interview after all. She hadn't wanted to underdress or overdress, and she was carrying a small black classic Chanel shoulder bag that Peter had given her for Christmas several years before. She had so little occasion to wear it in Greenwich that it looked brand-new. She wondered if she should be carrying a briefcase, but she didn't own one. All she had to offer him was her brain, her energy, her time, and her organizational skills. She hoped it was enough for him.

A buzzer sounded, and when she pushed the door, it opened, and revealed a short flight of marble stairs leading upward, just like the staircase in the shop. The house was beautifully done. She heard voices on the floor above, and followed them, and found herself in an elegant hallway, with original modern art by well-known artists, and ahead of her was a large wood-paneled room lined with books, and in it were seated a strikingly handsome blond man in his mid- to late thirties in a black turtleneck and black slacks, and a young woman who was so pregnant, Paris almost smiled thinking of Agnes Gooch in
Auntie Mame
. She got out of the chair with difficulty, and came to greet Paris in the hall and lead her into the room.

“You must be Paris, what a terrific name. I'm Jane. And this is Bixby Mason. We've been expecting you.” He was already looking Paris over with eyes that felt like X rays as he checked her out. She could feel him taking in everything, from her hair and earrings to the Chanel bag and the high-heeled shoes she had worn, but he seemed to approve, and smiled as he asked her to sit down.

“Great suit,” he said, as he reached behind him and grabbed a phone that was ringing. He answered a rapid-fire series of questions, and then turned to sum it up for Jane when she sat down.

“The truck is late with the orchids. They're about halfway here from Los Angeles, they should arrive before noon, which means we have to hustle when they get here. But they're going to knock something off the price to make up for the delay. I think we'll make it. The party isn't till seven, and if we get into the room by three, we should be fine.” He turned his attention back to Paris then, and asked her how long she'd been in San Francisco and why she had come. She had already thought about how she would answer him. She didn't want to sound depressed or pathetic, he didn't need to know all the gory details, just the fact that she was divorced and on her own.

“I've been here for three days,” she said honestly. “I'm divorced. I was married for twenty-four years, ran my home, took care of my kids, didn't work, gave a fair number of dinner parties. I love decorating and entertaining and gardening. And I came to San Francisco because my son is at UC Berkeley, and my daughter lives in L.A. And I have an MBA.” He smiled at the rapid recital, and although he looked sophisticated and elegant, there was something warm in his eyes too.

“How long have you been divorced?”

She took a breath. “About a month. It was final in December, but we've been separated since last May.”

“That's tough,” he said sympathetically, “after twenty-four years.” He didn't ask what happened, but she could see that he felt sorry for her, and she tried not to give way to tears. It was always harder when people were nice to her. Their kindness always made her cry, but she forced herself to think of what she was doing there, and kept her eyes firmly on his. “Are you doing okay?”

“I'm fine,” she said quietly. “It's been an adjustment, but my kids have been great. And my friends. I just wanted a change of scene.”

“Were you living in New York?” He was interested in her.

“Greenwich, Connecticut. It's a fairly opulent bedroom community, and has kind of a life of its own.”

“I know it well.” He smiled. “I grew up in Purchase, which isn't very far away, and is pretty much the same idea. Tiny little communities full of rich people who know each other's business. I couldn't wait to get the hell out after college. I think you did the right thing coming out here.” He smiled approval at her.

“So do I.” She smiled broadly at him. “Particularly if I get a job working for you. I can't think of anything I'd like more,” she said, almost shaking as she made her brave little speech.

“It's a lot of very, very, very hard work. I'm a pain in the ass to work for. I'm totally manic, and obsessive about everything. I want everything perfect. I work a million hours a day. I never sleep. I'll call you in the middle of the night to tell you something I forgot and that you have to do first thing in the morning. Forget having a love life. You'll be lucky if you see your kids for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and probably not then either, because we'll have parties to do. I promise to run you ragged, drive you crazy, teach you everything I know, and make you wish you'd never laid eyes on me at least ninety percent of the time, if not more. But if you can stand all that, Paris, then we'll have a hell of a lot of fun. How does that sound to you?”

“Like a dream come true,” she said honestly. It was all she wanted to do. It would keep her busy and distracted, make her feel useful, the parties and events they did had to be exciting, she would meet new people, even if they were his clients and not her friends. She couldn't think of a better job for her, and she didn't care how hard she worked. She wanted to. “I think, I hope I can do a great job for you.”

“Want to try it?” he asked with a look of excitement in his eyes too. “We're only doing four dinner parties this week. One tonight, two tomorrow, and a good-sized fortieth-anniversary party on Saturday night. If you survive all that, you're on. Let's see how we both feel about it by the end of the week.” Then he looked at Jane with a stern expression. “And if you have that baby before that, I'm going to spank it and strangle you, do you understand, Mrs. Winslow?” He wagged a finger at her, and she laughed, rubbing the enormous Buddha belly that looked like it was going to explode out of her dress at any minute.

“I'll do my best. I'll have a talk with him and tell him that if he shows up before the weekend, his godfather will be extremely pissed.”

“Exactly. No inheritance from me, no trust fund, no graduation party, no presents for Christmas or birthdays. He's to stay where he is until Paris and I figure out if we can work together, understood? And in the meantime, I want you to teach her everything you know.” In a mere five days. Jane didn't flinch.

“Yes, sir, Captain Bly, Your Honor. Absolutely.” She saluted him, and he laughed at her as he stood up. And Paris was startled by how tall he was. He was at least six foot four, incredibly handsome, and she was almost certain he was gay.

“Oh, shut up,” he said to Jane, laughing at her as she stood up too, though with considerable difficulty. She needed a crane to get her out of the chair. And then he turned to Paris with a mock-severe expression. “And if you get pregnant, in or out of wedlock, you're fired on the spot. I can't go through this again.” He looked meek and boyish then, and they both laughed. “This has been very hard on me. You may have stretch marks,” he said to Jane, “but my nerves are stretched a lot tighter than your stomach!”

“Sorry, Bix,” she said, looking anything but contrite. She was thrilled about the baby, and she knew he was happy for her. In six years of working for him, he had become her mentor and best friend.

“On second thought,” he said to Paris then, “have your tubes tied. How old are you, by the way?”

“Forty-six. Almost forty-seven.”

“Really? I'm impressed. If I didn't know you had kids, I would think you were in your late thirties. When you said you had a son at Berkeley, I figured you for forty, tops. I'm thirty-nine,” he said easily, “but I had my eyes done last year. You don't need a thing done, so I won't bother to give you his name.” He was very generous with his praise, and she was touched by what he said. And then he looked serious as he glanced at the mountain of papers on his desk. There were files scattered everywhere, photographs, fabric swatches, blueprints, designs, and Jane's desk in the next room looked considerably worse. One entire wall of her office was cork, and there were a million notes and messages pinned to it. “When can you start?” he asked Paris bluntly, seeming to rev his engines suddenly. She could see what a dynamo he was. But he had to be. He had a lot on his plate.

“Whenever you like,” she said calmly.

“All right then, now. Will that work, or do you have plans today?”

“I'm all yours,” she said, and he beamed, and Jane invited Paris to come into her office with her.

“He loved you,” she whispered when they sat down across the desk from each other. She was going to show her everything she could. She thought this was going to work. “I can tell. Everyone else he's seen was out the door in about two minutes. ‘Hello, good-bye, thank you very much, get lost.’ He hated them all. But he liked you. You're just exactly what he needs. Also, no husband, no kids, you're new in town. You can follow him around everywhere, if that's okay with you.” Jane looked as hopeful as she felt.

“It sounds like a custom-made job for me. It's everything I wanted. And I like him too. He seems like a nice man.” Beyond the elegance and the good looks, and the sophisticated style, she could sense that he was decent, real, and down-to-earth.

“He is,” Jane reassured her, “he's been incredible to me. I was supposed to get married right after I came to work here, and my fiancé walked out on me, literally while I was standing in the church. My parents were furious, they had spent a fortune on the wedding. I was a mess for about a year, but it worked out for the best. The marriage would never have worked. And as Bix says, he did me an enormous favor, although it didn't feel like it at the time. Anyway, then I met Paul, and we got engaged in about four months, which shocked everyone, and my parents refused to pay for the wedding. They said I was marrying him on the rebound and it would never work, and they had already paid for one wedding, so to hell with me. So Bix put on the most sensational wedding you've ever seen. He flew in a band from Europe, Sammy Go, who is fabulous. He gave it at the Gettys' house, with their permission of course. It was incredible, and he paid for everything himself. My parents were embarrassed, but they let him do it anyway. Things were pretty tense between us for a while. And now Paul and I have been married for five years, and we're having this baby. I put it off as long as I could, because I hated to leave Bix in the lurch, but Paul finally put his foot down, so here we are. And Bix just hasn't wanted to face it. He couldn't find anyone he liked, and he didn't really look. And I swear, I don't think the baby will hold out till the weekend, so you'd better learn everything quick. I'll do whatever I can to help you.” It was a lot of information in one short speech, and when she said she was thirty-one a few minutes later, Paris realized that she was the same age as the girl who had married Peter. And Jane seemed almost like a child to her, although she was obviously extremely capable. It made Paris wonder briefly if Peter and Rachel would have a baby too. The very thought of it made her feel ill, but she didn't have time to worry about it now, she had far too much to do.

They spent the whole morning going over files, important details about their best clients, how their resource system worked, who to count on and who not to, and who to use anyway. And then they went over a seemingly endless list of upcoming events. Paris could barely fathom that many parties in one town within a short span of months. There were several in Santa Barbara and L.A. as well, and there was a large wedding tentatively planned in New York in the fall, but the couple was not yet officially engaged. The bride's mother had already called, just in case.

“Wow!” Paris said as they sat back after a few hours. There was enough there to keep ten assistants busy, she couldn't begin to imagine how Jane had done it all. “How do you keep it all straight?” Paris asked, looking worried. She was beginning to wonder if the job was too much for her after all. She didn't want to turn his business, or his parties, into a mess. It was a herculean job. And she had huge respect for both of them.

“You get used to it after a while,” Jane said reassuringly. “It's not magic, it's just work. The key is using really good resources that don't let you down. It happens sometimes anyway, but very rarely. And Bix only lets it happen once. If they screw up, or let him down somehow, he never gives them a second chance. Our clients just won't put up with it. Perfection is the secret to his success. And when something goes wrong, the client never knows about it. We work our butts off to fix it, or improvise so it still works.”

“He really is a genius,” Paris said admiringly.

“Yes,” Jane said simply, “but he also works like a dog. And so do I. Are you okay with that, Paris?”

“Yes, I am.” And she meant it.

They spent the rest of the afternoon going over more files, the orchids for the dinner party that evening arrived, as promised, and by three o'clock, Jane and Paris were at the site of the dinner. It was a large imposing house on Jackson Street in Pacific Heights. And Paris had heard of the client, he was the head of an internationally known biotech firm in Silicon Valley. It was a formal dinner for twenty. The house itself was exquisitely done by a well-known French decorator, and the entire dining room was done in bright red lacquer.

“Bix doesn't like to do the obvious,” Jane explained.

“Anyone else would have done red roses in here, and I think a lot of people have. That's why he went with brown orchids.” Their own staff was doing the cooking that night, and Bix had bought perfect little silver bells with each guest's initials engraved on them as party favors. His ingenious party favors, from teddy bears to copies of Fabergé eggs for each guest, were one of his trademarks. People loved coming to his parties.