Bride By Design. Leigh Michaels

been in the business fifty years longer than I have.”

      “Call me Henry. Everyone else does.” Henry Birmingham sat back in his chair. “No, I didn’t invite you because I was stumped over this project. But I would like your opinion.”

      David leaned forward and picked up the nearest ring. The shank was worn thin, and the brushed-gold pattern which had once surrounded the stone had been almost rubbed away through daily wear. The small diamond was, as Henry had said, ordinary in cut and color and clarity, and one of the prongs that held it was almost worn through. He put it down and picked up another. Even without getting his loupe out of his pocket so he could take a closer look, he could see that this diamond was chipped along the girdle.

      A quick glance told him that the rest of the assortment was much the same—the cuts of the stones were old-fashioned, the workmanship both commonplace and well-worn. “There’s not much here to work with. What does she want? A brooch? A pendant?”

      “She left the matter completely up to me.”

      “So if she doesn’t like the finished product she can blame you.”

      “Perhaps.” Henry leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands tented under his chin. “What would you do?”

      “Take the stones out. Melt each ring separately, and pour the gold into water so as it cools it will form a random-shaped nugget. Then I’d reset the stones into the nuggets and string them together with a nice heavy chain to make either a bracelet or a necklace. If she’d rather have a showier piece, then I’d make one big nugget.” David tossed the ring back into the pile. “So do I pass your test?”

      “Test?”

      “Does that suggestion make the cost of my plane ticket worthwhile to you?”

      Henry sat silent, while—too late—David thought better of the flippant question. Of all the stupid things to say…He didn’t even know the man, much less have an idea of why Henry Birmingham had asked him to visit his store. It was no time to be making wisecracks.

      “If I hadn’t already concluded that the plane ticket was money well spent,” Henry said finally, “I wouldn’t have asked your opinion about the rings. Let’s get out of here so we can talk. It’s a little early for lunch, perhaps, but we can have a drink.” He left the rings scattered on the velvet, picked up a gold-topped ebony cane that had been leaning against the end of the table, and led the way out of the little consultation room.

      David hesitated. “Shouldn’t these be put away securely before you leave? Even if they’re not collector’s items, they have value.”

      “One of the clerks will do it.” Henry’s smile was quick. “That’s the good thing about being the boss, and—even more—being thought to be a genius. I’ve got my staff convinced that I’m too busy creating to be bothered with details like picking up after myself.”

      David glanced back over his shoulder as they crossed to the main entrance and saw a woman in a black dress going into the small room.

      He wouldn’t have been surprised if Henry had taken him to the fanciest private club in town—he was sure the man must belong to them all, since that was where his clients were to be found. So he was startled when instead of hailing a cab, Henry strode down the block to a side street and turned into a little tavern that looked as if it had been there for a hundred years.

      Henry shot him a look. “Not much atmosphere here. But the food’s good, the beer’s reasonably priced, and the staff doesn’t hassle you to hurry, which is more than you can say for most of the fancy spots.” He headed toward a booth in the far corner. “What would you like, David?”

      “Coffee, please.”

      Henry raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with drinking a beer? Or something stronger?”

      “Not at all, under the right circumstances. Today I think I’d be wise to keep a very level head.”

      To his surprise, Henry laughed. “Not a bad idea, that.” He waved a waitress over and asked her to bring a pot of coffee and two cups. “Then we can sit as long as we like and not be disturbed at all. So—I imagine you’re wondering why I invited you to fly out here today, and why I suggested you not tell your boss where you were going.”

      “Both of those questions have occurred to me,” David said dryly.

      The waitress brought their coffee, filled the cups, and went away without a word. Henry stirred sugar into his cup. “You’re a very talented young designer.”

      “Thank you, sir.”

      “In fact, you’re probably one of the three most talented of your age and experience in the country right now.”

      “I’m honored that you noticed me.”

      “I probably wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t decided to enter your own designs in that contest last spring, instead of the stuff you’ve been doing for your employer.” Henry leaned forward. “The fact is, David, as long as you stay in the job you’re in, you’re going nowhere, because the firm you work for is too staid and conservative to let you spread your wings.”

      He hit that one right on the nose, David thought. But he said levelly, “My employer has never been unfair to me.”

      Henry raised his eyebrows. “You’re too loyal to say anything bad about them?”

      “Yes, I am, as long as I’m drawing a paycheck. I’ve always believed if I wanted to bad-mouth a boss I should resign first.”

      “I’d heard that about you,” Henry murmured. “Loyal to the core. Well, the situation with your employer is neither here nor there. You know they’re hide-bound, and I know it—so there’s no further need to discuss it. Let’s talk about you instead. Are you content to spend the rest of your life creating infinite tiny variations on a theme that was boring to start with?”

      Cruel-sounding as the statement was, David had to admit that it fitted his job description uncomfortably well. “When you put it that way, no—of course I’m not content. And I’m open to other possibilities. However, any employer will place certain restrictions—”

      Henry interrupted. “Then why haven’t you struck out on your own?”

      “Started my own firm, you mean? With all due respect, sir, even you didn’t do that. You didn’t have much of a base to build on, I grant, but you did have your father’s tiny storefront and a few customers already established.”

      Henry chuckled. “I see you’ve done your homework.”

      “Everybody in the industry knows all about Birmingham on State. In contrast, I’d be starting from scratch—zero. Today the capital required to start up a new firm and carry it through until it developed a solid customer base would be immense, far larger than you needed fifty years ago.”

      “So you have thought of it.”

      “Of course I have.”

      “Ambition’s a good thing.” Henry refilled his cup. “Did you like what you saw of Birmingham on State?”

      David nodded, a bit puzzled. “If I had the money to take off on my own, your business would be the model I’d use. Why?”

      “How would you like to have it?”

      David’s ears began to buzz. Had he possibly heard what he thought he had? “Have it?” he asked cautiously. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

      “Have it.” Henry’s tone was impatient. “Run it. Own it.”

      David stared at him. Had the man gone mad? He hadn’t heard any rumors about Henry Birmingham having lost his marbles. Of course, if it had been obvious that he’d blown his circuits, someone would have done something about it, and he wouldn’t be running around loose. But if he was just quietly going kooky…

      David kept