The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas

Kristy hesitated, but quickly caught herself. “Of course not.”

Zenia’s dark eyes turned kind. “I understand you’re experiencing some frustrations.”

Kristy’s stomach bottomed out. “Jack told you that?”

“It’s why he asked me to come.”

Kristy glanced at her husband, not sure whether to be grateful or offended. “He wants you to help me?”

“He thought a professional eye couldn’t hurt.”

Kristy nodded. It was true, of course. Kind of hard on the ego, but then she was the one who’d expressed her doubts to him.

Then, an idea took root in Kristy’s mind. She could show Zenia the fantasy collection. If Zenia liked it, Kristy would have an ally. And there was a chance, a good chance, that Zenia could sway Jack.

Kristy felt a surge of hope.

She couldn’t wait to finish dinner and get out to the workshop.

Kristy started with Irene’s collection.

“Very nice,” said Zenia with a nod, closely examining the last piece.

Dinner over, she and Kristy were alone in the workshop.

“It has extremely strong technical merit,” Zenia continued, motioning to the pieces set up on mannequins.

“I like the lines. You were wise to stick to the classics. I particularly like the tailoring on the blouse, and the sleeve detail definitely lifts it from the ordinary.”

Kristy tried to pay attention to the analysis, but her mind was galloping ahead to Zenia’s reaction to the fantasy collection.

“You might want to rework the bathing suit,” said Zenia, moving to look at it. “It’s fun, but it’s out of step with the other pieces. Have you thought about a single color instead of a print?”

Kristy nodded. But her gaze strayed to the furthest closet.

“You could go with two contrasting colors.” Zenia pointed to a blue square on the geometric pattern.

Then she pointed to a red line. Red on top, blue on the bottom?”

“Sure.”

Zenia peered at her. “Is everything okay?”

Kristy nodded.

“You seem distracted.”

Kristy swallowed, and her heart rate increased. She told herself it was now or never. “There’s something—” Her voice rasped over her dry throat. “Would you mind looking at something else?”

“Not at all.”

Kristy walked to the closet, forcing herself to measure her steps, her heartbeat deep and thick inside her chest. Sweat was breaking out on her palms. She opened the door and retrieved the waterfall dress.

“They’re something…” she said to Zenia as she carried it across the room “…something I’ve been, you know,” she laughed nervously, “just playing around with.” She hung the dress on a rack then went back for the next piece.

Zenia cocked her head as the collection grew.

Once Kristy had all the pieces out, Zenia walked around the rack with a piercing stare.

After a full minute’s silence, Zenia finally spoke. “I think,” she said, and then she paused.

Kristy held her breath.

“It’s a risk,” said Zenia. “For a new designer.”

“Can I take a risk?” asked Kristy.

What was the difference between risk and imagination? How did you get the sparkle without taking a risk? Why were all these people telling her to get creative and then advising her to stick with the standard?

Zenia paused again, clearly searching for words. “Later in your career, perhaps. Especially if you establish yourself in Europe and you’re looking for a high-end niche. But you’re probably not going to find really broad appeal in the domestic market with this.”

Kristy nodded, biting her tongue against the arguments that formed in her heart.

“Have I disappointed you?”

Kristy shook her head, then she stopped. “Maybe just a little.”

“It’s a tough business.”

“I’m definitely learning that.”

“You have to be flexible starting out. And it helps to have the hide of a rhino.”

Kristy tried to smile at the joke. But she was tired of being flexible, tired of taking other people’s advice.

She knew how Jack felt about experts but, honestly, she wished somebody would give her a smidgen of credit occasionally.

“You have a solid start here,” said Zenia, turning back to the Irene collection. “Win or lose, take advantage of the Breakout Designer Contest to start establishing yourself. I’ll be there cheering for you.

And I know you have a huge supporter in Jack.”

“Jack’s been amazing,” Kristy agreed.

She knew now it was Zenia who’d chosen the fabric and accessories that had arrived in a steady stream from Europe. She knew now that Zenia and Jack were friends, and that Jack had enlisted Zenia’s aid.