Bride By Design. Leigh Michaels
talking about would be astronomical. I don’t think I have the backing to borrow that sort of—”
“My business is not for sale,” Henry said.
“But then—” David shook his head. “Then I really don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“I’m offering to give it to you, David. Half of it, I should say—but you’d have complete freedom where your designs are concerned. Of course, there are a few…conditions. Want to hear about them?”
Henry had been gone for a full quarter of an hour when David’s head finally stopped thrumming and he could begin to think straight again.
It isn’t Henry Birmingham who’s gone around the bend, Elliot—it’s you.
What in hell had he agreed to do? he asked himself in despair. And why?—though that was a foolish question. Dangling Birmingham on State in front of him had been like tantalizing a shark with a big chunk of raw tuna, and Henry had known it. Though it actually wasn’t the business itself that David had snapped at, tempting though it was. It was the freedom Henry had offered, a freedom that he chafed for and knew that he would never find unless he could be his own boss.
The man was a mesmerist, that was the only explanation. Henry had hypnotized him into thinking that the offer he had made was feasible, when in fact…
He should get out right now, while he still could. Stand up and walk out of the little tavern. Hail the first cab he saw and get himself to O’Hare and onto the next plane back to Atlanta. Shake the dust of the Windy City off his feet and never look back.
But he didn’t move.
Birmingham on State. Handed to him on a platter…with a few conditions, of course.
Conditions that she—Henry’s granddaughter—would never agree to.
An odd mixture of disappointment and relief trickled through him. He didn’t have to walk out, he thought. He could sit here and wait for half an hour, just as he’d promised Henry he would. And when she didn’t show up…well, he’d have done his best—wouldn’t he?—and Henry couldn’t blame him.
David checked his watch. Twenty minutes had gone already. All he had to do was wait another ten, and it would be over.
But he had to admit to a pang. Birmingham on State…For a few brief, brilliant moments he had hoped. He had seen a vision of the wonders he could create—if only he had the freedom and the opportunity and the backing.
A low voice spoke beside him. “David Elliot?”
He looked up almost hopefully, expecting the waitress. Perhaps Henry’s granddaughter had at least called the tavern and sent him a message to say she wasn’t coming. It would be the decent thing to do, instead of leaving him dangling. It wasn’t as if he was to blame for her grandfather’s crazy ideas, after all.
But the woman who stood beside the booth wasn’t wearing the tavern’s uniform. She was dressed in a dark green suit that hugged her in all the right spots, and a string of perfectly matched pearls peeked out from inside the high collar of her jacket, right at the base of her throat. She was small-boned and petite. Her face was heart-shaped, her eyes as green as the suit and fringed with the darkest lashes he’d ever seen, and her pure-black hair was drawn back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck.
“My grandfather sent me,” she said.
David felt as if someone had plunged a very sharp, very thin knife into the sensitive spot just beneath his ribs. He didn’t know what he’d expected Henry Birmingham’s granddaughter to be like—in fact, he’d had no expectations, for he hadn’t given the matter an instant’s conscious thought. He only knew that this woman wasn’t anything like he would have anticipated. This woman would turn heads in a morgue.
She said, “He suggested we chat over lunch.”
David scrambled to get to his feet, belatedly trying to at least look like a gentleman. “You’re…Eve,” he said, and felt as foolish as he must have sounded.
“Yes. Eve Birmingham.” Her gaze was as direct and intent as Henry’s, her eyes as bright and searching. But her face was curiously still. “May I?” Without waiting for an answer, she slid into the seat across from him.
David was glad he could sit down again himself, for his knees had gone a little weak. He had never dreamed she would actually come…
Just because she’s here doesn’t mean she’s agreeable, he reminded himself. She might just be too polite to leave me stranded. Or maybe she doesn’t even suspect what Henry’s got in mind.
Eve asked the waitress to bring her a pot of tea, and David used the interval to collect himself.
“I understand you and Henry have had a heart-to-heart talk,” she said as she filled her cup.
“He had some interesting proposals,” David said, and caught himself. Bad choice of words, Elliot. “I mean…Look, I don’t know if he’s told you what this is all about.”
Eve set the teapot down. “Henry keeps very few secrets from me.”
“This may be one of them.”
“I’ve known for quite a while that he was thinking about retiring, and that he didn’t want to sell the business and take the chance that it would become something less than what he’s worked so hard to maintain. He told me some time ago that he was looking for a young designer, an artisan who shared his vision of what jewelry could be, to carry on for him.”
“What about you?” David didn’t realize until the words were out that the question had been nagging at him ever since Henry had made his crazy offer. “Don’t you want the job?”
Eve shrugged. “I know good design when I see it, but I could no more produce it myself than I can fly to the moon. Those genes passed me by.”
“You sound very calm about it.”
“I’ve had years to come to terms with the idea that my talents run in other directions. So has Henry, as a matter of fact—he realized long since that I wasn’t able to be quite what he needed.”
“But you must have feelings about him bringing a stranger in.”
“Of course I do. As a matter of fact, I’m very involved in the business—I manage the staff, I handle customer service, I watch the bottom line. But I have to agree with Henry. Much as it would hurt me to close down Birmingham on State, I’d rather see that happen than have it be merged into one of the companies that mass produces jewelry for the lowest common denominator.” She looked at him across her teacup. “If he thinks you’re the right man, then I’m quite happy to endorse his choice.”
David rubbed his knuckles against his jaw. “If you’re serious about that, then he can’t have told you his whole plan.” He poured himself more coffee. He’d had too much already, he knew. His nerves were jangling. On the other hand, that would probably be happening even if he hadn’t consumed any caffeine at all.
Her voice was calm. “If you’re asking whether he’s confided in me that he wants me to marry his chosen successor—”
David dropped his spoon. “You know about that, too?”
The look she gave him was almost sad. “I did tell you that he keeps very few things from me.”
“You can say that again. You must think it’s a little medieval of him.”
She looked as if she was thinking it over. “He has his reasons,” she said finally. “His own marriage was arranged by his family, and it was successful—so of course the idea occurred to him when he began thinking of the future of Birmingham on State. Legal partnerships have their shortcomings, while a marriage would be safer for the business. A stranger who marries into the family isn’t a stranger anymore. I couldn’t toss you out on your ear if you displeased me, but you couldn’t take over the firm and cut me out,