"I'll find him. Anything else I can do," Adam asked and started to sound relieved. He was an accountant by nature and not a crisis management person.
"Yes. Pull up the list of invitations. We've only got a week to fix this. As soon as I have a new place lined up, I'll personally call every name on the list and make sure they know the change in plans."
"That's over a hundred names," Adam cried in dismay. "You can't call—"
"I'll take care of it personally. Go find Redding's number."
Holbrooke appeared to be somewhat calmer and more stable by the time Emily hung up.
Marilyn pounced on her before she could dial the number for Antonio's studio. "What happened?"
Emily punched in the numbers for the studio. "The Bluebell had a fire. We need a new place for the show and—"
Antonio answered the phone. "What, dammit?"
"Put Peters on the phone. Now," Emily ordered. She could tell by the slur in Antonio's voice that he'd been drinking. Again.
"It's about time. Where the hell have you been?"
"I've been within reach of my cell phone and enjoying what some people refer to as a day off. Put Peters on the phone."
"Alfred! Get over here. The bitch wants to talk to you."
The phone changed hands and a high pitched, effeminate male voice shrieked at the other end of the line. "Where the devil have you been? I've been trying to—"
Emily swallowed a sip of tea, then lowered the cup to the saucer. "Holbrooke said some of the girls are walking. Is this true?"
"Yes. Two of them called this morning and said that they weren't—"
"I don't really care what they said. Give Stuart their names and have him review their contracts."
"But you can't do that to them," Peters cried.
Emily ignored his outburst. "You will contact the other girls and inform them that the show will go on as planned, but at a different location. If any don't want to do it, have their contracts pulled and let Stuart deal with their agents. I don't care if I have to put a bunch of amateurs up on the stage, this show will happen."
"But the two that left are Babbet and Jeanine. They are needed for the bride collection."
Emily drummed her fingers on the table. "Leave their replacements up to me. Mrs. Abergheny will get what she asked for and be happy with it. Even if I have to stuff her daughter into one of the dresses and march her down the catwalk." She drew in a deep breath. "I expect you and Antonio to be in my office at ten tomorrow. Don't be late. I've got four meetings and a massage at seven. Make me miss the massage and there will be hell to pay."
"But where are we moving the show to?"
"When I know that, you'll know. Tell Antonio to put away the whiskey and get on the phone."
A bottle banged in the background and Antonio returned to the phone. "What?"
Emily's voice was cold and dangerously quiet. She was on the edge of losing her temper, but she held it in check. "Call me a bitch again and I'll make sure your contract isn't binding."
Antonio gasped. "Sh— Uh, man, I'm sorry. I, um, didn't mean it like—"
"Be in my office at ten and be ready to make alterations."
"Yes, ma'am. Which dresses?"
"We'll figure that out once I have the replacements. Put the bottle away Antonio. This show means as much to you as it does to Mrs. Abergheny." With that, Emily hung up.
Lily, Katie, and Tabitha gaped at her. Marilyn sipped her coffee and sat poised with a pencil and a paper napkin to jot down notes.
"I gather that we need to find a new place to have the show and get some replacements."
Emily nodded. "The owner of the Bluebell will be calling me sometime tonight. I'll see what I can do to help with the employees he most likely had to let go. I'm hoping all we'll have to do is find a place large enough to hold us and then hire the Bluebell's people for the day."
Marilyn tapped the eraser against the table. "That sounds good. But where are we going to find a place on such short notice?"
"What do you think?" Jake shoved his hands into his back pockets with his palms facing out and rocked on his heels. A deep sense of satisfaction hummed through him. Another few weeks and the restaurant would be ready for Nick's amazing cuisine. He could already imagine how the tables would be lined up with flowers and candles sitting atop crisp, white linen tablecloths.
"Hmm."
Jake looked at Emily.
"Lee, I can see it. Can you?"
He glanced at Marilyn.
"I believe I can, Marilyn. I do believe I can."
Jake frowned. "What do you see?"
Emily turned her full attention to him. "Where are Alex and Nick?"
"They went out to pick up some finishing nails. Why?"
"Because I have a proposition for the three of you."
Marilyn groaned. "This is my queue to leave. When you need me, I'll be downstairs with my head stuck in a bowl of Nick's ice cream." She whisked herself off and dragged Tabitha with her. "Come on, Tabby Cat. Let's go torture Booker and indulge in some butter pecan ice cream."
"Make mine chocolate and I'm there," Tabitha chimed. "Later, Lee. Hey, Marilyn? Why do you call her Lee?"
"Because Emily is a sweet name and Emily was anything but sweet when I met her. She gave me a bloody nose. Booker started calling her Emma-
Lee
and it stuck. Or something like that. Those years sort of passed in a blur for me." Marilyn's voice trailed off as she and Tabitha jogged down the steps. "Did I ever tell you how Booker got his name? No? Oh, well it goes like this, ya see…."
"Proposition," Jake asked once they were alone.
Emily nodded. "A business proposition."
"A business proposition," he repeated.
"Yes."
"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this," he muttered to himself. "Okay, sweet Emily, what is your business proposition?"
"I'd like to rent this space for a fashion show."
Jake folded his arms over his chest. "This space is under construction."
"I'd pay to have it finished."
His jaw almost dropped. "I see."
Emily sighed and smoothed a hand over her hair. "I need— No. I'm in a bind."
"What kind of bind?"
Emily started to speak when the shrill of her cell phone rang. She gave him an apologetic look, then answered, "Stafford here. Yes, hello, John. I was sorry to hear about the fire. I hope no one was hurt. Good. How about structural damage? That is dreadful. I know. It couldn't be helped. Thanks for calling us as soon as it happened. Actually, I was hoping a portion of the contract could still be fulfilled. Unfortunately, I am not, as of yet, ready to explain that."
Emily smiled at Jake. "Will you be near a phone today? Excellent. I'll contact Stuart and have him bring out the contract. I'll go over it and see what we might be able to salvage, then give you a call back with, hopefully, good news. What?" She laughed. "Thanks, John. I really appreciate it. I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything." She hung up.
Jake arched a brow. "John?"
Emily pursed her lips. "John Redding. Owner of the Bluebell." She tapped the phone thoughtfully. "I need to make a phone call, then I'll explain the proposition."
"Go right ahead. I've got all day." The owner of the Bluebell? The hotel and restaurant? A fire? What the hell was going on? Jake leaned back against the wall and watched Emily slip into business mode.
"Adam, did you get in touch with Stuart," Emily asked. "Put me through to his office. Yes, I did, but I haven't found a place yet. When I know anything, I'll let you know." She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. "Stuart. Did you pull the contracts? Good. What damage are we going to do?" She cackled. "Personally, I don't care whether they ever work again. A deal was made and they failed to uphold their end of the arrangement. If they can't stand a little pressure then they should have— Which one? Hell." She snapped to attention, then paced in front of him.
Jake watched in fascination as sweet Emily transformed into Lee-The Barracuda-Stafford. She was a bundle of energy. She barked orders to the Stuart on the phone, then paused and thought. He could almost hear the wheels of her mind turning.
"She picked the wrong person to play hit or miss with. Get your team to go over the details. I want a report on my desk by Wednesday at lunch. If little Miss Babbet wants to dance, she'll learn to dance to my tune. How much of an advance did she get? Sue her for breach of contract if she doesn't retract her statements. I will handle damage control. What?" Jake wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen and heard it. Emily growled menacingly. "No one gets in my business like that. No, I can't. I haven't found a place yet. As soon as I find a place, I'll be in. Then I'll— Who? No, the other name. Him. I should have known. This wreaks of his handy work."
Her brows drew together and Jake had the sneaking suspicion that the lines of battle had just been drawn. "Have you told anyone else of this? Good. Keep it that way. You'll be in the office all night? I'll drop by on my way home. Have you eaten? I'll bring something. Okay. Later." Emily snapped the phone shut, then cursed fluently.
"Problem," Jake asked.
Emily looked up and met his amused expression. "Several."
"Anything I can help you with?"
"Yes, there is." She forced a smile. "I don't need an answer right this second, but I would like hire this place for a fashion show. I'm prepared to pay generously and I will even provide the catering staff to serve. I'll pay for the advertising, the food, the drinks, and whatever else is needed."
Jake slowly pushed off from the wall. "When?"
"This coming Saturday." Emily held up a hand and explained about the Bluebell, the fire, the fashion show, the models walking out, and how the invitations had already been sent out. "I'm in a bind."
Jake's laugh was dry. "That's putting it mildly."
Emily rubbed the back of her neck again and Jake said, "Come here." She did and he turned her around, then planted his hands on either side of her neck and massaged her tight shoulders. "I'd have to talk it over with Nick and Alex."
Her chin dropped to her chest. "I'd expect you to."
Jake nodded, then dropped a kiss to the side of her neck. "I'm a sucker for the damsel in distress routine. So are Alex and Nicki."
Emily spun around and flung herself into his arms. "Bless you. Thank you." She rained kisses over his face. "You can name your price and then some. I'm prepared to be very generous."
Jake pulled back, a sly grin touching his eyes. "Very generous, eh?"
She nodded.
"How generous?"
"Name your price."
Jake trailed a finger down her cheek. "You are so innocent," he murmured in awe. "Did you know that you have two personalities?"
She smirked. "Yes."