Holiday by Design. Patricia Kay

Joanna’s fairy godmother. For years Cornelia had had all she could handle just keeping body and soul together and making sure her four daughters didn’t suffer from the sins of their father. She hadn’t the wherewithal to play Lady Bountiful. But now—especially since Harry had, over her objections, settled some sixty million dollars on her the week after their wedding—she had the means to do whatever she wanted to do.

      Now, just where had she put that business card of Marcus Barlow’s?

      * * *

      Marcus had to pass right by the gallery on his way back to his office, and he couldn’t resist stopping in. Up and Coming was an indulgence, and he knew it—it barely paid for itself—but he didn’t care. He’d had to give up his dream of becoming a working artist when his father’s death had redirected his life. Up and Coming was his way of staying a part of the art community.

      Granted, owning a gallery was a far cry from living his art, but at least now he felt he was contributing something important. From the day he’d opened its doors, Up and Coming had featured the work of new and struggling artists. Because of the boost he’d given them, Marcus could count half a dozen in the past few years who had gone on to make a success of their chosen careers.

      Smiling, thinking how much he enjoyed his role with Up and Coming, he felt all his worries and responsibilities fade away as he entered the gallery.

      Brenda, as always, seemed glad to see him. When the gallery had first opened, Marcus had been concerned about stopping by as often as he wanted to. He hadn’t wanted Brenda to think he questioned her abilities as his manager or that he was checking up on her. He needn’t have worried. Those thoughts never seemed to enter her mind.

      In fact, sometimes she seemed too glad to see him. As a result, he was careful to maintain a strictly professional relationship. During the few times she had attempted to discuss his or her personal life, he had always steered her back to business.

      Today was no exception. “You look tired,” she said.

      He shrugged. “I wondered if you’d had a chance to contact Jamison Wells.”

      “We talked right after lunch.”

      “And?”

      “He’s thrilled, of course.”

      “Is November a good month for him?”

      “He says yes. He guaranteed us forty paintings.”

      “Great. When can we see them?”

      “I told him you’d call to fix a time.”

      After Brenda brought him up-to-date about two more new artists they were considering for future shows, she excused herself and headed toward the restroom. A moment later, the telephone rang, and Marcus walked behind the counter to answer it. After giving the caller directions to the gallery, he disconnected the call and was about to walk away when he noticed a business card on the floor next to the waste basket. He picked it up and glanced at it.

      J S Designs

       When you want to feel like a princess

      There was a name in small type at the bottom—Joanna Spinelli—a phone number and a website address, but nothing else. The message on the card intrigued him. What kind of designs was the woman talking about? He was just about to take the card back to the office and look up the website when Brenda returned.

      Seeing the card in his hand, she frowned. “I thought I threw that away.”

      “You missed the basket. I found this on the floor.” When she said nothing further, he added, “What kind of designer is she?”

      Brenda made a face. “She designs clothes. I told her I doubted we’d ever be interested in anything like that.”

      He nodded. Normally he would have agreed with Brenda. Fashion had never interested him, especially couture fashion. But for some reason, he was curious about this woman’s designs. He guessed the statement about feeling like a princess was what had intrigued him.

      Casually, he put the card in his jacket pocket. Brenda noticed, though. He saw her lips tighten. Deciding he owed her no explanation, he said he had to be going and would drop by again later in the week.

      Back at his office, he pulled out the business card and looked up the woman’s website. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t what he found.

      The dresses and gowns featured on the website were exactly the kinds of clothes he would like to see his sister wear, exactly the kinds of clothes he would want a wife of his to wear. They were stunning—beautiful and elegant. The Spinelli woman hadn’t exaggerated. Her clothes were fit for a princess.

      He wished there were more of them on the website instead of the half dozen featured. He also wondered about the designer herself. There was no picture, no bio. Just contact information.

      He was about to do a search of the designer’s name when his secretary buzzed him to say Cornelia Hunt was on the line. He smiled and picked up the phone. “Hello, Cornelia. What a nice surprise.”

      “Is it? I’ve been meaning to call you ever since the night we met. And today I had the perfect excuse. Harrison and I are having a small dinner party next month on the eighth, and I was hoping you could come.”

      “The eighth...” Marcus checked his calendar, saw that the evening was free and said, “That sounds good.”

      After she gave him the particulars, she said, “If you’ve got a few more minutes, there’s one other thing I wanted to ask you about.”

      “I have as many minutes as you need.”

      “I know you own an art gallery in Belltown.”

      “Yes. Up and Coming.”

      “And you sometimes feature artists and designers who work with unusual materials. I believe my daughter mentioned a jewelry designer whose work will be shown in October?”

      “That’s right.”

      “Have you ever considered showing the work of a fashion designer?”

      Taken aback, Marcus wondered if Cornelia Hunt was a mind reader. It was almost as if she’d known he was thinking about Joanna Spinelli. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought,” he said, “but yes, I have considered it.”

      “In that case, I wanted to recommend someone. This young woman is very talented. In fact, she designed the bridesmaids’ dresses for my wedding and she also designed the bridal gown my oldest daughter wore when she was recently married. Her name is Joanna Spinelli, and she’s currently working on finishing her first collection and I’d really like to be able to help her out a bit. So I thought if you were interested I could introduce you.”

      “It’s odd you should mention Ms. Spinelli, because she visited the gallery today and left her card. In fact, when you called, I had just finished looking at her designs on her website.”

      “And what did you think of her work?”

      “I was favorably impressed.”

      “Lovely,” Cornelia Hunt said.

      “In fact,” he said, thinking aloud, “it’s possible we could combine her designs and my sister’s jewelry into one show.” That would give Vanessa a boost, too, plus make for a more interesting evening for possible buyers. “I forgot to mention that the jewelry designer we’re featuring this fall is my sister, Vanessa.”

      “That sounds wonderful.”

      The more Marcus thought about it, the more logical his idea seemed. Of course, everything would depend on whether Vanessa liked the Spinelli woman and her designs and vice versa and whether the clothing and jewelry would be complementary, but it was certainly worth exploring.

      “So, would you like me to arrange a meeting?” Cornelia asked.

      “It’s not really necessary. I