A Nightingale in Parkleigh Square

Chapter Thirteen

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"S end us everything you can find on the new Van Stewart comfort collection," said Nina. "Videos, articles, pictures — call one of the assistants at the design house and tell them you're our assistant, and this is an emergency for Simone Van Stewart's personal window dressers. Give them our numbers. Tell them to call or text or whatever they need to expedite this."

"You're the boss," said Val. "So what do I do about the ornaments? Still nothing on back order."

"We're thinking," said Nina. "Just forget about the metal ones, we'll call you when we figure out what we can afford instead." It wouldn't be easy to comb through the lots of generic ornaments and select the right ones, but they had to find something they could work with in advance of the tree's delivery.

"Again, I'm on it like cheese on nachos as soon as we're done," said Val. "Except I have to call my cousin, again there's a big deal about the lights she's supposed to deliver for us to the senior home. It's like she's never made an independent decision, I swear."

"If you see any good deals in bulk, text us in case it saves us time," said Nina. "Anything in neutrals or that could be made to look classy."

"Can do."

She called the number Lea had given her. "Hi, it's Nina, the American you met a couple of times recently? I have a favor to ask. You know the ornaments you were buying at the junk shop?"

In the yard, Bradley shook a can of green spray paint, hoping the cardboard walls surrounding the fence prevented any accidental acts of vandalism. Molly squeezed out of Ki's workshop, brushing away some bits of old wood from her jacket.

"How's it coming?" asked Bradley.

"He's soldered on about half the pegs we need for ornaments, but he says the bigger ones near the bottom will take more time. If he gets it wrong, the pole and the twisty tree could end up jamming, it's a whole thing," said Molly. "How's our rush operation to steal trade secrets going?"

"Nina says Val's trying to get them to expedite the promotional package. She pretended to be Simone's new assistant, apparently? But only for five minutes, until a receptionist connected her with the label's headquarters."

"Nobody is more resourceful," said Molly. "So basically we're ahead on turning the tree all cozy and red and green aaannnnddd .... on nothing else at this juncture."

"Maybe we just need to finish pulling together our inspiration?"

"Nice try," said Molly. Her phone buzzed, and she checked it. "Okay, Nina's going to pick up the ornaments, she needs me to come," she said. "You're on paint duty, so we won't figure out the rest until after the big packet arrives."

"Lunch at the pub?"

"Pick us up chips today," said Molly. "We won't have time for anything else. Oh, and I mean the fried potato ones, not the dip variety."

Their rideshare took them to a stately building that Nina mistook for a historic art gallery until she checked the address. This was definitely where Lea worked.

"Are we sure she didn't just play a prank on us — give us the address for the Museum of National Antiques of Little Importance or something?" Molly looked around as they entered. The main gallery was sprawling, with display cases for vases and porcelain figurines, and cabinets of fine china displayed as singular plates. Large paintings covered the walls, like French palace artwork on loan from the Louvre.

"She said she worked for an auction house. This is like Sotheby's showroom," said Nina.

"I think that's a real Ming vase."

The representative who approached them smiled. "Welcome, how may I serve you?" he asked. "Are you here to see the new Shaker pieces acquired?"

"Um, no, we're looking for an employee? Lea Marson?" said Nina.

"Some other time on the Shaker furniture," said Molly.

The employee seemed disappointed. "Of course, wait here," he said. A few minutes later, Lea appeared from an adjoining space.

"Hi," she said. "I've laid out the collection so you can see it. This way." She showed them into another room, which had a more jumbled-up appearance than the main gallery. Crates were half-unpacked, with Tiffany lamps and plaster busts inclined in their paper straw, and violin cases slotted on shelves beside boxes marked 'fragile' and 'reproduction'. Three foam-padded boxes sat side by side on a long table, open to Christmas baubles nestled inside.

Nina immediately spotted the ones she had seen before, with flowers that resembled folk knit patterns — the others were in similar patterns, in cream, red, and black, with touches of gold and green. Some depicted poinsettias, others block-like stars, some with simple stripes, or herringbone and tartan patterns. The floral ones had been cut with windows, looking into the delicate hollow inside.

"These are gorgeous," said Molly, lifting one. "They're antiques, they must cost an arm and a leg when you sell them. How can you consider us as customers?"

"Not these," said Lea. "They're not that valuable, they're really common in the secondhand market. We sell them as replacement pieces for collections, but if we don't find buyers, we sell them as a lot, usually at a reduced price."

"I'm so glad you didn't sell them yet," said Nina. "Obviously, we want to sell them back after this —"

"Actually, it might increase the value, if we can list them as part of the Van Stewart Christmas debut's decor," said Lea. "My boss is quite excited by the idea."

"Lucky for us," said Nina.

"These are going to look perfect with the tree. And we can still use any of the stuff with a patina or an antique look, so it won't be a loss," said Molly. "

"Thanks, Lea, you have saved our lives — our job, at least, which is the same thing right now," said Nina.

"I was rather hoping that it was nothing as dramatic as the first one," said Lea. "I am just a lowly buyer of vintage goods."

"That's exactly what the paramedic of a decor and design business should be," said Molly. "What do you think we survive off of — nice stuff and good bargains, that's all."

"Will three dozen be enough?" asked Lea. "I'm afraid this is all we have in this style at present. Most of our nicer collections sold well before Christmas."

"This is more than enough for the tree we have," said Nina.

They balanced the boxes carefully in the back seat of the rideshare — every sudden stop in traffic, Molly braced them with her arm, using her body as a shield. At the traffic signal, the topmost one slid off the pile and Nina caught it with both hands.

"I will be really glad when we're back at the studio," said Molly. "I keep picturing one of these shattering all over the backseat. No offense, you're a great driver," she said, directing her voice up front.

"No problem," he answered.

"Wait, I think that's the secondhand shop I visited before, up ahead," said Nina. "Hey, can you pull over in a moment? Just a quick stop, I promise."

"Nina, where are you going?" demanded Molly. Nina slid from the back seat and closed the door, hurrying to the shop. The 'open' sign faced outwards, so it wasn't lunch time for the proprietors, thankfully. She opened it, entering to the jingle of the bell.

The display case still held the old books she remembered, the children's folk tales. She breathed a sigh of relief, and opened her purse as the sale assistant approached. "I'll take the topmost one, definitely," she said.

When she emerged and climbed into the car again, Molly rolled her eyes. "That's what you stopped for?" she said. "More old books?"

"These are for me, not just for the window," said Nina. "These are kind of fun."

"Whatever. Let's go," said Molly. "I guess I'll give you a pass since that one looks kind of Old European. We're building a fairytale, right?"

"That's the plan," said Nina, as the car pulled into the lane again.

***

B y evening, the paint had dried on the metal spiral tree, transforming it to green. Brad had been careful not to interfere with the mechanisms, lights, and other optics as he applied two coats and a sealer before bringing it upstairs again.

Val's magic charm had worked — the package was overnighted from Paris, containing a disc and glossy pages. The disc contained a translated copy of Simone's only interview about the line thus far which was about to be aired on a Paris fashion program, speaking of it as a profound satisfaction for her artistically.

As they watched, they looked through the rest of the packet. All the promotional photos showcased the garments with the look of modern simplicity — rustic lodges and snow-capped trees as background, people sitting on snowy logs or standing in frozen country gardens.

Even though the look was simple, it seemed impressive and modern. Maybe because pouty models were wearing them, Nina thought, or because Van Stewart had mastered the technique of making the old seem new again — making rustic wool socks and patterned pullovers seem sexy when paired with fur-trimmed boots. Even the dress with the Eastern European star-like flowers embroidered on the blouse-like top and wrists looked chic when any knockoff would probably look too loudly printed.

"Do you feel the same pride in your accomplishments now as when you first achieved success?" This question came at the end of the interview. The English dubbing was slightly off from the lip sync — Brad laughed at it.

"It changes with time, yes. But I think it deepens it. We feel such appreciation for things when they are right, because we have the experience to see them through — they satisfy us that we were not afraid of change."

Some clips in the wrap up featured a private runway show for the new fashions — a video montage resembling the promotional photos, only taking place in a fake winter wonderland where the models were more like silent characters in a tableau.

"Wow," said Molly.

"I've never seen a fashion show staged like that," said Bradley.

Nina switched off the DVD and powered down the miniplayer plugged into her tablet's adaptor. She took a breath. "So what do we think? Should we run with it?"

"We don't have permission," said Molly. "But why should that stop us? You heard her in the interview. She'd be flattered ... probably."

"Then we'll make this line the focal point of the window," said Nina. "And because the trees have to be part of it —"

"— we only have like three dozen ornaments that fit the look —" said Molly.

"— I think making a winter wonderland like the fashion show is the answer," continued Nina. "It's simple, it can be breathtaking. And it's neutral. Metal, glass, frosted and white things, all of those could fit the profile."

For a beat, no one else spoke. Everyone had their own thoughts, silence taking the floor temporarily as they contemplated the pros and cons of the choice.

"You know what I'm thinking?" said Bradley.

"Nothing says Old World Christmas like tiny decorative elves packing for London?" said Molly.

"Close enough," he said. "What if we did recycle them as part of the look? It's the perfect tie-in, except Santa will look a little weird now in his London togs."

"That would have to change. And we'd need to dust the London attractions with snow or something. We need more winter, more Old Europe in the mix. Not necessarily Scandinavian — where was Simone Van Stewart from?"

"It says in her bio. I think she was Polish."

Nina was thinking. "Could we replace the backdrop curtains with projector screens?" she asked. "And have a projector opposite at the top, behind the automated drapes?"

Bradley stared. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.

"What better way to create a winter wonderland?" she answered.

It was perfect. All they needed was a way to make it convincing — a montage of the runway tableau with footage of snowy winter woodland scenes and so on. Set to a musical track, how could it fail to create the atmosphere?

"We need the clothes," said Nina. "By now, they've probably delivered the first shipment of inventory, we need whatever we can find that stands out, especially like the runway pieces do. Enough to dress the mannequins and have some for the luggage and the Christmas gifts."

"Will they let us just have what we want? Natalia Vidalia isn't all that thrilled by the notion of helping us out, let alone us helping ourselves directly to the store's stuff," said Molly.

"Maybe we avoid that if we ask someone else," said Nina. "The designer, Vincent — he likes us, he'd help us out, I saw some of the new garments in the studio where he's working right now. Either he or his assistant would probably let us look through the inventory."

"You should go," said Molly. "You've talked to him more than the rest of us have."

Nina felt her face growing hot, and pretended to check her phone. "Not me, I have to talk to Val and see if she can .... help with the projector situation." This was the first excuse she could think of. "I don't have any kind of magic powers, anyone can talk to him, he seems nice."

"I'm on it," said Bradley, putting on his coat. "It might be my first and last time to exclusively unveil a future Van Stewart still under wraps."

"Or, in this case, in wraps. As in industrial cellophane from a shipping company," said Molly.

"Close enough." He grabbed his phone and left.

Val's cell phone went to messages, so she was either at a party or asleep already. After Nina left a message for a callback first thing in the morning, she helped Molly sort through the remaining swatches and scrap fabric sent over from the new London design studios, looking for anything in simple red and white. She texted Brad. Put Santa in the van with the clothes, we need big changes.

Her phone pinged. What about luggage? Props?

Leave for now. I think I have an idea.

They laid aside all the possible options and had drawn out a new paper garment pattern by the time Bradley returned, an hour and a half later. Huffing for air, he hauled the heavy animatronic figure into the studio after propping open the door.

"I brought as many clothes as I could," he said. "Vincent wasn't there, but his assistant helped me after phoning for the okay. Apparently he trusts us, I have no idea why."

Nina pretended to look more closely at the ragged edges on some of the fabric strips.

"Ask no questions, hear no lies," said Molly. "Let's get to work. We only have about two days to make this happen if Val can get a local crew to do the tech part for us. That's a big 'if' at this moment, so the rest had better be good."

"Do you want me to cue up my videomaker's software?" said Bradley.

"You know how to edit videos?" said Nina.

"Sure, I took a summer course in film once from NYU. Nothing advanced, just basic stuff. I could try to download the footage and find some stock scenery. Maybe some stock music?"

Molly gaped. "I think a miracle has just occurred here. Go, do it, before the universe tries to balance it out by making this Santa's head fall off or something." She rocked the mannequin body a little from side to side, as if testing the probability of this fate.

Brad took off his coat and removed his laptop from its case, reaching for the disc lying next to the portable DVR. Molly took a seam ripper and began removing the stitches which fitted Santa's London wardrobe to his body. The animatronic figure would need a new outfit.

"I'm sorry for this one," she said, regretfully, as she removed the herringbone coat. "It looked pretty awesome, frankly. I even loved the hat." She picked it up from the floor. She put it on her own head, like a novelty party hat, then put it on Nina's across from her.

Nina laughed. "Maybe we can use it next year," she said.

"Next year. You really are a dopey optimist, aren't you?"