Parisian Affair (3 page)

He knew that he himself was regarded by some
of the customers and many of the elegant citizens of Paris as the
Other—an Algerian, from the projects, with no breeding, no money,
and no prospects. Ram felt his otherness acutely and had sworn to
change that. He was going to be richer and more powerful than
Levant someday.

These jewels are going to help me get that
and a lot more,
he thought as he worked
, and the famous
lady's bad luck is my good fortune
.

He began removing the necklace's pendant from
its setting, but stopped and looked at it with his loupe once more.
A smile spread across his sensual lips.

My road to true riches,
he thought
,
beyond anything even this shop could ever provide.

Allegra Sheridan sat at her desk, bent over a
drawing pad that was perfectly centered on its expansive surface.
She was lightly sketching in the details of a new design for a
pendant. With a barely audible groan of exasperation, she upended
the pencil and began furiously erasing the delicate lines she'd
just roughed in.
Hopeless
, she thought with a grimace
.
Completely hopeless.

As hard as she tried, she found it impossible
to concentrate. She just couldn't put on paper the beautiful
pendant that loomed in her imagination. She brushed an errant
strand of her lush strawberry blond hair from her eyes and sat
staring at the drawing pad, as if to magically conjure the
design.

Is there anything worse than a blank
page?
she wondered.

It was unusual for her to feel as defeated
and anxious as she did, but she knew why. The telephone on her desk
seemed accusatory and intimidating in its silence. She'd told
herself time and again that there was nothing to fear, that when
the call eventually came the news would be exactly what she wanted
to hear. It
had
to be.

Nevertheless, she couldn't remember when
she'd been this distracted. But, she reminded herself, it wasn't
every day that her immediate future, and that of her business, hung
on the news that would come sometime that day.

The telephone rang, and Allegra nearly leaped
out of her chair. She grabbed the receiver but hesitated before
picking it up.
Don't appear to be too anxious
, she told
herself. Two rings. Three.

She lifted the receiver. 'Atelier Sheridan,'
she said in the most cheerful voice she could muster. She took a
deep, calming breath.

Jason Clarke, her assistant, knew that she
was overwrought about the telephone call—he was no less so—but he
couldn't resist looking over at her, knowing that doing so could
make her more nervous. Before she frowned and pointedly turned away
from him, he saw Allegra's expression cloud over and a distinct
clenching of her jaw.

Uh-oh
, he thought.
If I'm not
wrong, that's Fiona Bennett, and there's definitely trouble in the
air
. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Allegra's
shoulders slump.
Oh, jeez
.
It must be really bad
news
. He tried to refocus on the jeweler's loupe and examine
the pigeon blood ruby he held with tweezers. To no avail. Like
Allegra's, his immediate future hinged on the news, and as he sat
gazing at the cabochon ruby's low luster, he realized that he was
actually seeing nothing at all. If there were inclusions or other
imperfections beneath the ruby's surface, he would surely miss
them. He put the ruby down on the worktable's wooden bench pin and
let the loupe fall against his chest, where it dangled on its
chain. His attention was now fully devoted to Allegra's end of the
conversation, and he attempted to divine what Fiona Bennett was
saying on the other.

Allegra, her back still to him, listened
raptly. When she spoke, it was in a firm voice that belied the
nervous anxiety she'd felt all day. She didn't want Fiona to hear
the terrible vulnerability she felt, nor did she want her to be
privy to Allegra's crushing disappointment or the tears that
threatened her eyes.

'Oh, of course, Fiona,' she heard herself say
steadily. 'I know you did the best you could, but—' She emitted a
short, nervous laugh. 'I guess that's that, isn't it?'

She listened a few moments longer, said an
upbeat good-bye that was summoned out of long practice at putting a
good face on a bad situation, then slowly and quietly replaced the
receiver in its cradle. She stared off into space, her beautiful
blue eyes lackluster.

Jason wiped his hands on the apron he wore,
then took a sip of the mineral water on his worktable. 'You want to
talk about it?' he asked softly, looking over at her.

Allegra shook her head. 'There's really
nothing to talk about, Jason,' she replied in a small voice, gazing
blankly toward the windows. 'That was Fiona. They've decided to
pass on the jewelry.'

'Damn.' Jason exhaled a noisy stream of air.
'Did she give you a reason, Ally?' he asked. He was one of the few
people who used this diminutive form of her name.

She sat back down at her desk and picked up
the wheatgrass juice that she'd bought earlier in the day. After
taking a long sip, she held the glass in her hand, unconsciously
swirling the liquid around in it. 'Yes and no,' she said, her eyes
still faraway and unfocused.

'So what did she say?' Jason asked, growing
impatient. 'What kind of excuse did she come up with?'

She shook her head as if to rid it of the
oppressive effects of rejection. 'It's the same old stupid
nonsense. Except that Fiona's come up with a little variation on
the theme this time.'

She set her glass of juice on the desk with a
loud bang, straightened her spine, and tossed her head back
regally. ' 'Oh, Allegra, dahling,' ' she mimicked, assuming a
haughtily drawling English accent, ' 'we adore your work.
Naturally. Doesn't absolutely everyone? But we've decided we can't
carry your beautiful line. It's simply
too
interesting for
us.' '

'
Je-sus
!' Jason laughed loudly, then
quickly put a hand over his mouth. 'Oh, I'm sorry,' he said, 'but I
can't help it. What a lame fucking excuse!'

Allegra's big eyes had lost their dullness
and focused on him with a glittering fire. 'Have you ever heard
such crap in your life?' she spat. ' 'Too interesting'?' She hit
the desk with a fist. 'I mean, how do you even respond to something
like that?'

'You can't,' Jason said. 'Why couldn't the
bitch just say, 'No, we're not buying at the present time'? It's
like they have to say something to soften the blow.'

'Well, Fiona's way of softening the blow
doesn't make it any easier to accept the reality,' Allegra said.
She emitted a sigh. 'And the reality is ... well—' She hesitated a
moment before continuing. 'The cruel reality, Jason, my dear, is
that we're going bust fast.'

'Is it really that bad?' he asked, looking at
her questioningly.

She nodded. 'Yes, Jason. At this point I've
got nearly everything tied up in inventory. Gemstones and gold and
platinum and silver.' She took another sip of her juice and set the
glass back down. 'What the hell am I going to do?'

She looked at him beseechingly, knowing that
he didn't have the answer. 'What are
we
going to do? I don't
even know how much longer I'll be able to pay your salary.' She
slammed a fist against the desk again. 'Damn it all. First, we lose
our biggest account when Ponte Vecchio shuts down, and now we lose
this.'

Jason leaned back in his chair and propped
one leg atop the knee of the other, careful not to disturb the
small cabochon rubies that were sprinkled over the worktable's
small bench pin. He ran his hands through his disheveled dark blond
hair, then looked over at her, his gentle brown eyes full of
concern.

'Listen, Ally,' he said. 'Something's going
to work out. It always does, doesn't it? We've made it through
tough times before. We have a guardian angel, remember?'

'Yes,' she agreed, 'but this time I really
don't know, Jason. This time it's going to take a miracle to bail
us out.' She drummed her fingers against the desktop nervously. 'I
feel like we're back where we started.' She propped her elbows on
the desk and slumped forward, putting her chin in her hands.

'But we're not,' he said emphatically. 'We've
come a long way.'

She ignored what he said, her eyes taking on
a faraway look. 'A few lean years,' she said, her voice wistful,
'and then along came some recognition for our work. A few
profitable years, and all that wonderful dotcom money that people
had to spend. Now Silicon Alley's gone up in smoke. Poof!' She
flung her hands up into the air in an extravagant gesture, then let
them fall onto the desk.

She turned and looked at him with sad eyes.
'And along with it the best of our business. I'm beginning to feel
like my luck is definitely running out.'

'No, Ally,' he said loyally. 'I don't believe
that. Your work is beautiful; everybody thinks so. It's just
getting it to the right market, the right way. You've already made
something of a name for yourself. You've even got a cult following,
and it's only going to get better with a little more time.'

'Well,' Allegra said with unerring logic,
'time is something I don't have too much of right now. The
landlord's not about to let the rent slide because I need time. You
know what a shit he is.' Her voice rose in pitch as she became more
anxious. 'And the gemstone dealers aren't going to wait on their
money, are they? Or the metals dealers. Can you picture that?'
Tears suddenly threatened again, and her voice broke.

Jason resisted the impulse to go over to her
and put his arms around her comfortingly. He expelled a sigh of
frustration. Every instinct he had told him that she needed a
helping hand, but there was little he could do, financially or
otherwise. As he'd learned from years of working with her, she had
a streak of hardheaded independence that made it impossible for her
to either ask for or receive help. He didn't think he'd ever met
anyone who was as determined to do everything for herself as
Allegra.

And now
, he thought,
I might be
victimized by her stubborn independence. Because if her ship goes
down, I'm going to go with it. Then what do I do?
He propped
his elbows on the worktable and rested his chin on interlaced
fingers, considering his alternatives. Slowly his lips spread into
a smile as he remembered an encounter with Cameron Cummings the
other day. The well-known jewelry designer had asked him if he'd
ever considered leaving Allegra and told him to get in touch with
him if he was interested in a job.
Well, I might be doing just
that, and a lot sooner than I would've ever thought. Especially if
Allegra goes bankrupt
.

He watched as she got up from her desk and
quietly, thoughtfully walked toward the windows, a somber but
elegant figure.
Funny
, Jason thought.
'Elegant' was the
word Cameron had used.
Cummings had told him how crazy he was
about Allegra's designs. 'They're as elegant as she is,' he'd said,
'and she's the best designer in the business. I wish I had her
talent.' Then Cameron had laughed. 'Or her designs.' It occurred to
Jason that maybe ... just maybe ... there was a way to save Atelier
Sheridan after all.

'Ally?' he softly called over to her.

She turned and looked at him. 'Hmm?'

'I saw Cameron Cummings the other day.'

'And?' She looked at him with raised
eyebrows.

'He said he's crazy about your designs,'
Jason told her.

'Good for him,' she replied in a voice tinged
with sarcasm.

'What I was thinking,' Jason went on, 'is
that maybe . . . uh, you know, you could offer to sell him some of
your designs. Maybe—'

'Stop right there,' Allegra snapped. 'No way
am I going to sell my designs to Cameron Cummings. Or anybody else
for that matter. So don't mention it again, Jason. Don't even think
about it.'

'Sorry,' he said sheepishly. 'I didn't mean
to offend—'

'Forget it,' Allegra said. She turned back to
the big window and stared out over the rooftops of Soho to the
Hudson River and the setting sun in the distance. It was a wintry
sun, almost concealed by the gray haze, only the faintest hint of
pink coloring the cloud cover.

Slowly turning back to Jason, she said, 'Why
don't you go on home? I think I'd like to be alone for a
while.'

'Are you sure?' he asked. 'I can stick around
for—'

Allegra shook her head. 'No, Jason,' she
said, 'go on home. I really want to be alone now. There's nothing
to stick around for. Maybe we'll talk later. Okay?'

'Whatever you say, Ally,' he replied with a
sigh. He reluctantly rose to his feet and took his apron off,
shaking it over the large suede catchall suspended beneath his work
area, then draped it neatly over the back of his chair. At the door
he took his jacket off the coat hook and put it on, then shouldered
the backpack that hung on a hook next to it.

Opening the door, he turned to Allegra. 'See
you tomorrow,' he said.

' 'Night, Jason,' she said. 'And I'm sorry to
be so gloomy.'

'Ally,' he replied, 'I just know it's going
to get better. Some—'

'Later, Jason,' she said in a determined
voice.

'Okay,' he said, finally acceding to her
wishes. He quietly closed the door behind him as he left.

When he was gone, Allegra turned her gaze
back to the window, but all of her attention was focused inward, on
the storm of emotions that the telephone call had stirred up. She
realized that she had reached a point in her career where she had
to make a tough decision.