Fashionista (2 page)

“
Your father felt sorry for her,
”
she said.
“
She had two little girls and not many skills.
”

“
Hmmm,
”
Allegra had said at the time. It had taken Mariella a year of playing on Enzo
’
s grief and his desire to provide a mother for Allegra, but eventually she
’
d manipulated him into a marriage proposal. Two months after that they
’
d married in a couples-only, no-guests ceremony at Pine Manor Destination Wedding Chapel. Allegra had been relieved not to be asked to serve as a bridesmaid.

Enzo had adopted Mariella
’
s kids
—
seventeen-year-old Julia and eight-year-old Sina
—
and loved them as if they were his own. Two-faced Julia had pretended to return his affection mainly so she could coax presents and cash out of him. Sina had been another matter. Allegra had never seen anyone as starved for love as the unhappy little girl.

Mariella
’
s narrative was that her ex-husband, an artist named Brian McIntyre she
’
d married when she got pregnant with Julia, had deserted the family. It suited Mariella to be seen as the victim and to have people think she and her children had been abandoned.

It had never dawned on her how that story would affect her sensitive youngest child. Sina believed that she was the reason her father had left and Mariella had never bothered to correct that impression. More than once Allegra had heard her little sister crying about it and Mariella telling her to quit being a baby.

Nothing the little girl could do met with her mother
’
s approval. While Enzo used the girl
’
s full name, Orsina, affectionately, calling her his
“
little bear,
”
Mariella used it to make fun of the child
’
s weight, telling her if she didn
’
t stop eating cookies she was going to look like a bear for real. She also confiscated her allowance so she wouldn
’
t spend it on treats.

“
Mama is so mean,
”
the little girl had sobbed one night after Mariella and Enzo had gone out to dinner, leaving Julia to babysit, which meant that she was on the phone the whole night, talking to her latest boyfriend.

Lonely, Sina had wandered into Allegra
’
s bedroom and started rummaging through her things until Allegra was finally forced to put aside the book she was reading and pay attention to her.

“
What
’
s wrong?
”
she asked.

“
I hate my name,
”
the little girl announced.
“
I want a pretty name like yours.
”

Julia had once told Allegra that she and Sina had been named for Mariella
’
s wealthy great aunts in hopes they would leave their namesakes money. They hadn
’
t, something Julia still resented.

“
I have an idea,
”
Allegra had said.
“
Why don
’
t you call yourself
‘
Sina?
’
People won
’
t know if it
’
s short for Rosina, which means
‘
little rose,
’
or short for Dinosaurina,
’
which means
‘
little dinosaur.
’”

“
No it doesn
’
t,
”
Sina said with a giggle.

“
So you
’
ll be a little rose then,
”
Allegra said.
“
All pink and pretty.
”

Sina glowed at Allegra
’
s use of the p-word. She never got compliments from her mother or Julia and blossomed any time Enzo or Allegra gave her one. From then on she
’
d been
“
Sina,
”
despite her mother
’
s disapproval.

“
I dislike nicknames,
”
she
’
d said icily to Allegra.
“
They
’
re undignified.
”

Allegra had stared her stepmother down.
“
She
’
s a little girl who doesn
’
t like being called
“
bear-like
”
every time someone says her name.
”

“
You overstepped,
”
Mariella said.

“
Sorry about that,
”
Allegra said, in that snotty teenage way that means
I
’
m not sorry at all, bitch.

“
I
’
m watching you,
”
Mariella said,
“
don
’
t think I don
’
t know what you
’
re up to.
”

And since that day, she and Allegra had been engaged in an undeclared but heated Cold War.

Julia, who was three years older than Allegra, had ignored both her and her chubby little sister, so Allegra had taken the sad little girl under her wing, reading her stories at night before she went to bed, making her after-school snacks because Mariella liked to serve dinner late and she got hungry. When she got her driver
’
s license, Allegra had taken Sina to ballet lessons, which she hated, and soccer practice, which she liked. She
’
d taken her to movies and museums and when Sina had seen the gem and mineral collection at the Field Museum, she
’
d seen her destiny. From then on, she
’
d been all about the bling and the sketchpads she
’
d once filled with drawings of cats
—
her mother was allergic so they couldn
’
t have pets
—
were suddenly filled with designs for fanciful jewelry. She was partial to crowns. When she found out that crown brooches were a
“
thing,
”
she
’
d begun collecting them the way other girls her age collected Disney pins.

“
So what should I tell my people?
”
Wisnicki asked, pulling Allegra out of her reverie.

“
Tell them you
’
re looking into it,
”
she said, ignoring his scowl. I
’
ll talk to Mariella this afternoon, see if I can find out what
’
s going on.
”

“
You think she
’
ll be straight with you?
”
the foreman asked. It was pretty common knowledge that the second Mrs. Zangari held the whip hand at the company because Enzo had died without a will. By Illinois law, Mariella had inherited half of everything and Julia, Sina, and Allegra had split the other half.

Even with Sina on her side in a power struggle; even in the unlikely event that Julia would join her as well, Allegra knew she didn
’
t have much leverage.
“
No reason for her to lie to me,
”
Allegra said.

In fact, she
’
ll probably enjoy telling me it
’
s true,
Allegra thought.
“
I
’
ll let you know what she says,
”
she said. Wisnicki nodded and left her office without another word.

“
Gary
’
s right you know,
”
Ginevra Zangari observed from her seat in the overstuffed chair in the corner of Allegra
’
s office.
“
The rumors about China have been on the factory floor for weeks.
”

“
Really?
”
Allegra turned to look at her great-grandmother.
“
You didn
’
t think it was worth mentioning?
”

Ginevra flicked the fingers on her right hand, waving away Allegra
’
s annoyance.
“
You were busy with Christmas. I didn
’
t want to bother you.
”

Before Allegra could say anything else, the ghost of her great-grandmother disappeared.

It is so annoying when she does that,
Allegra thought, but it was not like she could complain to anyone without sounding nuts.

Hugo Prince was frustrated. Despite handing over the reins of Prince Enterprises to Hugo the previous summer, John Morgan Prince had been fighting his son on every single change he wanted to make, from upgrading the spa on the top floor of their flagship Chicago store, to opening new stores in the Ala Moana Shopping Center in Hawaii.

John Morgan especially hated the idea of Hugo creating what Hugo called
“
an affordable millennial shopping experience
”
along the lines of Nordstrom Racks.

“
I have no wish to turn Prince
’
s into a discount store,
”
John Morgan said haughtily.
“
If people can
’
t afford our goods, they can shop at Target.
”

“
And they will,
”
Hugo had shot back. Every single decision concerning the stores had become a battle to the death. It left Hugo exhausted. If he hadn
’
t had Bailey to lean on, it would have been impossible.

Hugo had met Bailey in college. She was five years older than the rest of the freshmen because she
’
d stayed at home to take care of her dying mother. While she was stuck in her small hometown, she
’
d learned the basics of day trading by reading
The Motley Fool
and watching YouTube videos. She
’
d organized local crafters into a group she called the OOK BOUTIQUE (One Of a Kind) and created a mail order catalogue and a marketing plan that relied heavily on local craft fairs and donations to local celebrities like the weather girl on the local NBC affiliate and the wife of the owner of a baseball farm team based in their town.

Bailey had turned her mother
’
s house into a store and her garage into a mailing center. She had eight women and three men working for her by the time her mother died, and she
’
d handed over the business to them when she left for college.

She
’
d paid her tuition in cash.

Bailey was tall and smart and strong and Hugo wanted to take her to bed. When she
’
d told him she preferred women, the rejection had been the catalyst for a warm friendship. By the time they graduated, Hugo and Bailey were as close as siblings. Bailey had been courted by a half-dozen companies but Hugo had told her she could create her own job at the Prince department store empire and she
’
d accepted the challenge. Her business cards called her a
“
Commercial Conceptualist
”
and although no one quite knew what that actually meant, no one wanted to ask her.

One of the reasons Hugo had wanted to hire Bailey was that she thought outside the box and she seemed to have an instinct, almost a sixth sense, for what was going to be trendy each season.
“
I
’
m psychic,
”
she always told him and he always laughed, not realizing she was actually serious.

Bailey had impeccable taste and she brought her aesthetic sensibility to every single thing she did. She
’
d blown through the store
’
s musty corporate office like a stiff Chicago breeze, introducing new promotions, hiring new people, and generally inspiring everyone to bring their A game. John Morgan had always made sure that Prince
’
s Department Stores had a philanthropic role in the city, but he
’
d always dispensed his largesse in a low-key, practically anonymous manner. He wrote checks. He sat on boards. When he
’
d been married to Hugo
’
s mother, he
’
d even attended fund raisers. But since his divorce, John Morgan had shunned the limelight, stayed in the background, remained quiet
—
content to let his handsome son become the face behind the brand, even if he wasn
’
t quite onboard with Hugo actually running the company.

“
I feel like Prince Charles,
”
Hugo complained to Bailey, but otherwise he went about his job, quietly making changes that were strengthening the bottom line in the cutthroat world of 21
^st
century department stores.

Bailey didn
’
t do anything quietly. Or behind the scenes. And some of her promotions had become the stuff of local legends.

Every year she chose a palette for her wardrobe, totally ignoring whatever the
“
Pantone Color of the Year
”
choice was, buying ten signature pieces, which were then donated to a series of charity consignment shops at the end of each season. Volunteers at the shops were already salivating.

The year Bailey had come to work for Prince, she
’
d created the concept of a Christmas charity give-away inspired by Chicago
’
s own queen of media, Oprah Winfrey and her
“
favorite things.
”

Bailey commissioned a box big enough to hold a custom-curated collection of trinkets she collected and wore throughout the year, then held an in-store raffle to give the box of baubles away. Designing the box had become a coveted assignment among local artists, a gig guaranteed to get them tons of free feel good publicity.

This past Christmas, the Prince
’
s Treasure Box had brought in $2.7 million dollars in raffle tickets and that money had gone to five charities selected by shoppers in a vote held on the store
’
s website.

John Morgan had told Bailey he was very pleased with the way the promotion had turned out. He liked her and thought it a shame that she wasn
’
t interested in joining the family in a more permanent way.

Since John Morgan
’
s retirement, he seemed to be taking an inordinate interest in Hugo
’
s love life.

“
He needs a new challenge,
”
Bailey said.

“
Every time I go by his office, he
’
s playing with his tabletop labyrinth,
”
Hugo said, who was genuinely worried about his father
’
s mental health.

“
Be glad he didn
’
t get into coloring,
”
Bailey told him. She
’
d been somewhat creeped out when her partner had brought home adult coloring books and spent hours working on them while the television was tuned to reality shows.

“
Is coloring still a thing?
”
Hugo asked.

“
Let
’
s go to lunch,
”
she said.
“
I want to talk to you about a way we can change up our inventory a bit.
”

Hugo frowned.
“
Because I haven
’
t had an argument with my father so far this week. You want to talk to him about adding new brand names?
”

“
Shoppers aren
’
t born, they
’
re made.
”

“
That
’
s why we have an Instagram account isn
’
t it?
”
he said. Hugo wasn
’
t really a social media person but Bailey enjoyed it, tweeting and pinning and snapchatting her way across the internet every day as part of her job.

“
I need sustenance,
”
Bailey said.

“
It
’
s only eleven.
”

“
I
’
m hungry,
”
she said.
“
I didn
’
t eat breakfast.
”

Hugo sighed. When Bailey
’
s blood sugar was low, she got cranky. He knew he might as well surrender to the inevitable.

“
Fat Rice?
”

“
You know it.
”