A Nightingale in Parkleigh Square

Chapter Four

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"A t this moment, you are standing on the site of a remarkable piece of wartime London history," the tour guide explained to the group walking along Parkleigh Square in the morning sunshine, just passing the bakery as Display by Design's team crossed the street from their ride share.

"During the Blitz, virtually all of Parkleigh Square and the neighboring two streets were leveled by bombs," he continued. "Flats, houses, and shops, except for the building you see ahead of you, the former site of the now-obsolete Billington's Department store. When the dust cleared and everyone emerged from the bomb shelters, this building was left standing, in near perfect condition, and it became a temporary shelter for several families on this lane until they could be removed to safety ..."

Tourists took photos of the building, then followed their guide past the newly-arrived window dressers at the crosswalk. The cherry picker was parked on the left, near the fully-decorated Christmas tree in the center of the square.

Nina opened one of the gilded and glass doors of entry, followed by Molly carrying their portfolio and Bradley right behind, ready with reference books containing potential ideas. Past the painter's canvas cloths, the store opened up in a massive main floor with a circular balustrade for its second floor, just below the domed roof. A massive staircase descended from the upper floor, almost as if descending out of sky and light, the impression of the wide glass panes between copper frames at the base of the rotunda.

From the interior ceiling in copper and filigreed metal trim to the marble pillars and floor, it was elegant to the nines. Nina recovered her breath with a ragged inhale as Molly made a noise in her throat like a small puppy.

"Are we in the right place?" asked Bradley, in a hushed voice.

"Oh, yes," said Nina. "Definitely yes." She couldn't imagine anything more perfect. It was so amazing it almost didn't need windows dressed or a floor staged to feel spectacular. Any stager's fingers would itch with excitement to decorate these pillars with greenery.

The future of this space would be dresser's windows and mannequins wearing designer clothes, probably posters floor-length in size, but right now a crew was scrubbing the main floor's ceiling, the moldings around the pillars, and an electrical crew on ladders was lifting down glass light fixtures. Some professional-looking individuals were leaning over the upper floor's balcony rail, an attractive man in a suit, and a small woman wearing a flamboyant-looking Grecian gown, directing a team of movers who were pushing a large, rolling design board.

"Excuse me." The voice behind Nina and her team belonged to a tall, imposing woman with her hair in a tight bun and a professional business suit in subdued black. Her arms were crossed over its sleek jacket. "I'm afraid no one has informed you that we're not open to the public, so I must ask you to leave."

"We're the window dressers." Nina held out her hand. "Nina Alvarez. This is my partner Molly Stephens, and our assistant Bradley Miller. We're from Display by Design, sent to create the store's Christmas window. Are you Natalia Gaborelli?"

The woman didn't look pleased. "I am," she said. "I'm sorry — Divas who?"

"Display by Design. We're a window dressing and space staging company in New York," said Nina.

"I've never heard of it," said Natalia, whose voice was frosty. "Are you based in Manhattan?"

"Close?" said Nina. "In Queens, actually."

"Queens." From her tone of voice, Nina could tell that she was aware that every borough had two sides — a cheap one and a better one — and knew which one they came from. "I see." Natalia Gaborelli's lips flattened. "You were sent by Skyline Inspirations — the Manhattan decor company?"

"Yes, that's right," said Nina, smiling. She was acting braver than she felt — she hadn't imagined the meeting would be this difficult from the first introduction. The challenge was supposed to be the actual proposal. "We have an appointment to meet with the store's new director — you — this morning."

The store's future director had fixed a pair of cold eyes on them. "Follow me." She motioned, and began climbing the staircase as they followed.

"We're very excited to discuss what Van Stewart's has in mind," said Nina.

"This place is gorgeous, we can't wait to start," said Molly. "It's so great, it's like it doesn't need us, but we're here, so we should get started, right?"

She laughed, but Natalia Gaborelli didn't copy it. "In here." She showed them into an office space that was certainly only partly-decorated, with a modern desk and a framed piece of modern art on the wall. Two very plain Danish armchairs in orange were positioned across from it. Nina and Molly sat, Bradley hovering behind with an uncertain expression.

"First, we should show you our dossier," said Nina, drawing out the book they had prepared. "There's a digital copy here on my tablet, and the printed copy contains comment cards from past clients, which I brought so you could see that we strive for satisfaction."

Natalia had clicked the app and was paging through photos of their best work, including an elegant New Year's scene at the Italian restaurant. The movement of her hand was dismissive. It was impossible to tell from her expression what she thought of the images.

"That one, that's some of our best, the gala for the designer," Molly pointed. "They wanted an eighties theme, modern stuff that looked like cutting-edge retro design, to fit a Billy Joel song, 'Modern Woman'. You can imagine how hard it was, right?"

Natalia looked up, but didn't look sympathetic.

"Um, that's more in line with what your brand is probably looking for," said Nina, leaning over to point to the photo taken at the grand opening of the children's reading room at the library, where they had helped set up an all black-and-white themed Christmas toy scene for a black tie unveiling of the space. The Christmas tree was modern, with all silver ornaments. "This type of elegance would suit a large space on a larger scale. It's simple but very sophisticated. Maybe something like this would fit Van Stewart's image, we were thinking."

Natalia looked up again. "Tell me, what do you know about the designer and her company?" she asked.

Nina paused. "They're both famous," she said, having a difficult time finding a direct reply. "They're both sophisticated and modern and —"

"All of those things, and more," said Natalia. "An image that defines sleek, classic couture that innovates without losing its core traits. How would you turn that into a Christmas homage?"

"Um. Well. We would look to a narrow parameter that defined it how the store preferred," said Nina, faltering. "For instance, a particular look or aspect of the line, right?"

"We want it to be what the store would like one hundred percent," said Molly. "It's our guarantee. We'll define this store in a way that would make Simone Van Stewart proud if she were here."

"Since she will see it personally, that's a tall order," said Natalia, coolly.

The shock went through all three of them, Nina thought, as if lightning jumped from her body to the rest of the team. Simone Van Stewart was coming to London?

"What we create will define this store — what its designer's work stands for — in a way that everyone can appreciate," said Nina. "But especially her. It's a process, and each step will be designed to reflect exactly what this space deserves, and what it means to the client, of course."

She pointed to the book, but it was more of a random gesture. "These pictures represent a range of ideas, and the range of what we can do," she said. "These are only a starting point, because this business's theme will have to be unique."

Natalia closed the app. "Elegant," she said. "It's the first word and the last word. As to what's in between — that is entirely about how well you understand what Von Stewart's reputation represents to the world. I think that can only be demonstrated by a proposal. One made by a highly professional, highly experienced company."

"And we are?" snorted Molly, as if it was obvious. "We just told you that's why we're here."

"Is it." Natalia spoke blandly. "I've seen your portfolio, Ms. ... Stephens." She checked the flyleaf of the printed portfolio. "I think we may both need time to consider this prospect. To put it frankly, you are not what we expected. Seeing these photos doesn't inspire confidence. What is the largest space you've staged thus far? Anything greater than forty square feet?"

Heat flared in Molly's eyes, but Nina gripped her arm underneath the coat draped across it. "I can assure you that size is not an issue," she promised. "Upscaling and downscaling — either one, an experienced space stager can handle."

"Experienced. Interesting choice of words, Ms. Alvarez," said Natalia. "Is that how you define yourselves, because the photos in this book indicate no date prior to — five years ago? Six, is it?"

"Six years of experience for trained professionals," said Nina. "The international branch of the window stagers that assigned your space to us trusts us, because they know that what we can do in small spaces we can do in great ones. We promise that our proposal will be a strong one that can be modified in any style you wish, as you'll see when we present it."

Her tone was bright and steady, although some part of her was trembling like Jell-O under the stare of the insolent store director, whose expression bordered on disgust.

"I have another appointment, so we'll suspend this meeting presently," said Natalia. "We'll be in contact shortly, Ms. Alvarez. In the meantime, good day. You'll see yourselves out?"

"Can we see the spaces we're assigned so we can take measurements in advance?" asked Nina.

"That won't be necessary at this juncture, I assure you," said Natalia, crisply.

"But we need to see the space for our proposal," said Molly, as the store director opened the door to the landing. "Can't we at least look around?"

"If you insist, then fine. Try not to get in the way of our renovation crew, because it's extremely important that they meet their deadline on time." She closed the door as soon as they were on the other side, and before Nina could say anything else reassuring.

They reached the bottom of the staircase, skirting aside for two movers bringing up a large desk.

"That was just rude," hissed Molly. "She is the rudest person I have ever met, I swear. New York wives verbally chewing their husbands like Doublemint are not as rude as her — what was with that attitude?"

"She's a fashion maven, maybe that's how they are," said Nina. "It's not like we know, is it?"

"I mean, hello, professional courtesy," said Molly. "She could just say now she intends to hate what we do and make us change it a billion times."

"Don't say that. Let's just get some measurements and concentrate on putting together a great presentation," said Nina. "Look at the space with a planner's eye and see where the decor should be versus traffic flow and merchandise." The renovation crew had set up scaffolding near the spot where she imagined a grand Christmas tree would probably go — the wall behind it already had a large mirror installed between two huge picture windows.

"Obviously, we'll have backdrops behind the window scene, something classy," said Molly. "I figure both windows match, maybe tell a story? Like one big landscape?"

"Let me get my sketchbook, just in case inspiration strikes," said Bradley, locating it underneath the reference books. "We need photos, measurements, scale, obviously —"

The two professionals at the balustrade above were watching them, Nina noticed. The handsome man in the suit said something to the woman in the Grecian gown. Both turned and spoke to Natalia when she approached them, and it was obvious even from below that she was still unhappy.

One of them turned to look below — the handsome one, and Nina felt herself blush under the effect of assumed French sophistication on her mind. She knew he too was probably looking down on them like they were insignificant insects creeping into the store.

Molly removed a measuring tape from her bag. "Come on, let's look at these windows, then beat it to our temporary studio," she said. "I think we need a breath of fresh air and a couple of brilliant ideas before we come back."

****

B ram Funte's private line buzzed with a call from his assistant's desk. "Yes?" he answered. His free hand rearranged two open windows — two contrasting designs for the Met's lobby for their Christmas fundraiser.

"Mr. Funte, there's a Ms. Gaborelli on the line from Van Stewart's in London. She has a complaint about the window dressers assigned to her store."

"What complaint could she have? Vernon Devatos and Company is one of the best designers on a global scale," he answered.

"She didn't mention anything about Vernon Devatos. She said something about a 'Display by Design' from Queens."

His mouse hand stopped moving. "Who?" he said.

"That's the name of the company who arrived this morning."

He felt a deep sense of concern. "There's some mistake," he said. He snapped up the phone and pressed the button for the outside line.

After hours at Display by Design, Valarie was painting her nails in a coat of shiny metallic blue at her desk, thinking about whether to call Miguel back and forgive him as she took advantage of the office's high speed internet to shop for the best deal on supplies for her cousin's wedding. Did she want to go to the Bahamas and have daiquiris and forget about him? Was it better to go on vacation as a single girl, especially if her boyfriend was seen at the Taqueri with a girl he claimed he never liked?

She screwed the top on the bottle again before answering the office's ringing phone. "Display by Design, your window's scene is our scene." She liked making up the slogan whenever she was alone in the office.

"I need to speak with either ... Nina Alvarez or Molly Stephens," said the voice on the other end — an annoyed voice. Val pegged sinister undertones.

"I'm sorry, they're out of the office, they won't be back for a few weeks, can I take a message?" Nobody called to talk business at ten o' clock at night. This moron could get lost.

"Do you have private contact information for either of them?"

"I need to ask who's inquiring?" The freaky guy from the storage unit had leaked their office number to various scammers who wanted to give people cars in exchange for private banking info, for instance.

"This is Bram Funte with Skyline Inspirations. I need to speak to them as soon as possible. There's been a development with their assignment."

That was all he said, but Valarie listened between the lines. "Um, I don't have the authorization to give you our office contacts presently, but I can phone with it later today," she said. "Can you give me a callback number?"

"I really do need to speak with them."

"Right, just get me a number and I'll take care of it."

The voice's irritation was snapping like a rubber band. "My personal assistant will send a reminder to your business email with our office extension. But —"

"I'm so sorry, I have a client on the other line. As soon as the email comes, I'll take care of it. Thanks for calling Display by Design." Val disconnected.

Nina's mobile didn't pick up, but Molly's did. "Hello?" She sounded sleepy.

"Hey, heads up, that guy from Skyline? He's trying to get in touch with one of you, and I think maybe you were right about them sending the wrong letter."

"No, they can't do this now." Molly sounded awake. "We came all the way here, we started putting together ideas already. We paid for the stupid office space with that sleeping loft, for stupid's sake. What a swizz this is."

"I thought you should hear it from me, you know, because I didn't want you to be blindsided. I got rid of him for a few hours, but he'll be calling back to get in touch with one of you, I figure by tomorrow."

"Why not tonight?" said Molly, sarcastically. "Like we need sleep if we're fired."

Across from her, under the duvet of the second twin bed, Nina sat up, looking concerned as she switched on the lamp.

"Maybe there's time for you to fix it? I mean, it could be worth trying, right?"

"Yeah, sure, easy." Molly's voice had lost its humor. "Thanks, Valarie."

"No problem."

Molly exhaled with a long groan. Nina hugged her pillow. "They're firing us?" she said.

"What else would Bram want to talk to us about? You know, I knew from the start it was too good to be true. If we landed some attraction in Chicago where fewer tourists go because it's sketchy, I would've believed it. But not London. They were never going to give us a contract that big, Nina."

The time on her phone flashed three-fifteen in the morning. Bram must be angry — or desperate to get rid of them quickly. He had probably already spoken to Van Stewart's representative, or maybe they spoke to him first, complaining that some suburban castoffs had shown up for the job?

"We did all this work," said Molly, frustrated. "Look at it — I drew the presentation, you and Bradley were up until midnight putting together the look — we haven't finished the breakdown by element or the potential vendors list, but we were close." She measured with her fingers, as if spanning the mere inch or two of information represented by hours of work.

Nina stared out the window. It was too dark to see anything through the open Venetian blind, looking out to a row of cars parked, belonging to people living in the modern flats on this lane. It could be a street in Queens at the same hour, except not her neighborhood, where some of the more problematic boys tended to sit on the hoods and smoke a joint.

Molly sighed. "Should we tell Bradley in the morning?" she asked.

"We'll have to. We'll have to go back to Natalia Gaborelli."

Although there was probably no reason to do it, Molly brought the presentation and digital mockups with her to Van Stewart's. Nina had put on a business dress that Paula sold her at half price, and Molly had traded her red sweater and black skirt for a grey business suit, one of the retail label ones she had bought online — even Bradley had put on a three-piece suit, although Nina had noticed him tucking a tag inside the waistcoat.

They looked so confident that no one would guess they were getting fired, she thought, seeing their reflection approaching the glass doors. What are we going to do? It was humiliating to think of what had probably been said behind their backs, and now they had wasted time and energy they could never recover — the impossible dream was about to die after three days in London.

Inside, she was quivering with anxiety and wounded pride, trying to hide it — better than Molly was hiding her outrage, which made her look like she was on the verge of coming down with the flu.

Natalia Gaborelli was on the main floor, in conversation with two people — the woman in the Grecian gown from before, now wearing a purple cheongsam with jeweled chopsticks for hair ornaments, and the handsome guy in the suit, who looked even more handsome up close. His sandy hair was perfectly trimmed, as was his beard, and his suit was tailored to be worn as if it was comfortable casual wear, fitted or draped in all the right places.

Natalia noticed them, and turned around. "Ms. Alvarez, Ms. Stephens," she said. "I was going to call you this morning. I spoke with Mr. Funte, who planned to speak with you by today — since you are here, however, I assume he didn't. Therefore, I must inform you that you were assigned to our account in error and that we would prefer you step aside. Skyline Inspirations will void your contract with us today."

"Ms. Gaborelli —" Nina began.

"Any further issues must be discussed with Mr. Funte and his company, not with us," continued the store director. "If you would please —"

"Ms. Gaborelli, I am aware that this has been a mistake on the part of Skyline Inspirations, but I want to assure you that regardless of that fact, we intend to do this job and do it well," said Nina. "We want to be given a chance."

"That's out of the question," said Natalia, astonished.

"We've already put in work on this," said Molly, speaking up. "You can't simply toss us aside without even seeing what we can do."

"I told Mr. Funte to terminate our arrangement, I think that expresses my opinion of your talent quite succinctly," said Natalia.

"And who's going to do it for you if you're kicking us out?" said Molly. "What company has a team available to throw your way at this date? Nobody good, I'd bet, if you've even tried yet."

"Skyline Inspirations will have already assigned their best team and all of their best associates on either side of the ocean," said Nina. "Who else have you tried?"

Natalia hesitated, but her lips remained firmly pressed in a line.

Bradley piped up. "You can look at the proposal's first design," he ventured. "You could see if it meets your standards, that's a good place to start."

"We might be your best option at this point," said Nina. "Let us prove it."

The man in the suit stepped forward and plucked the store director's sleeve. "A word, Natalia?" he said. His accent was American. Natalia glanced at Nina and Molly irritably, then retreated a few steps away to confer with her colleagues.

Nina glanced at Molly, who started to speak, until Nina put a finger to her own lips. The conversation was barely audible.

"— we've already tried all the reputable companies, they're booked up," said the man. "We tried Paris, we tried as far away as Milan."

"I'm still looking to other options," said Natalia. "We haven't exhausted the list yet."

"Maybe we should give them a chance," he said. "What if no one else comes through? You need this opening to be successful, so you can't afford more setbacks."

Their voices dropped, continuing in hushed tones. Natalia's hissed. They talked forever, at least that was how it felt to Nina, whose heart trembled.

Natalia returned. "I have decided to give you a trial period," she said. "I want to see your design, fully fledged, within five days. Both the windows and the main floor."

"The — main floor?" repeated Nina. "I thought the store wasn't opening until the new year."

"Yes." Ice entered Natalia's tone again. "Didn't you read the contract? The store will be decorated for the pre-opening Christmas party on the twenty —first. Von Stewart herself will be here."

Nina pushed her smile to the front of her lips. "We'll deliver, as promised," she said.

"Good." Natalia's own was caustic. "Ms. Van Stewart is a formidable challenge to please."