Page 41 of The Little Shop on Silver Linings Street
Daisy shook her head. ‘No, I don’t believe you are. Besides, there’s nothing here I would wear.’
Lawrence stared at her. ‘How can you possibly say that when you haven’t even looked at anything? Daisy, it may have escaped your notice, but we’ve come to the finest emporium there is. If you can’t find anything here you like, you won’t find it anywhere.’
She flushed, hearing Grace’s words as loudly as if she were standing right beside her. ‘Will anything here match the beauty of dewdrops on a sunlit meadow?’ she asked. ‘Or the hoar frost that makes every blade of grass look as if it’s encrusted with diamonds?’ She watched his astonished expression.
Lawrence frowned. ‘Well, now you just sound like Kit. For goodness’ sake, am I the only one with any business sense around here?’
‘Kit? What has he got to do with it?’
He ignored her. ‘Which as far as I’m concerned is just another example of why it needs to be me that takes over Buchanans. Anyone else and the business will fail within minutes. All this romanticised tosh about greed and commercialism… It has no place within a modern business. Cold hard cash, that’s what makes the world go around. Always has done, always will do. And the only way that Buchanans will survive into the future is to have a sound business plan, some savvy buying and marketing and an eye on the finances. Who else can offer that?’
Daisy looked around her again. Perhaps he was right. It was one thing to tinker with a few bits of clay and turn them into jewellery, another thing entirely to run a business. She wouldn’t even know where to start as far as business plans were concerned, or any of the rest of it for that matter.
Lawrence softened his expression. ‘Look, I can see that this is all a bit, well, ostentatious. But just as there are people like you who disapprove of it, there are also a good many people who aspire to it. And a piece of jewellery from Buchanans is a pretty good place to start. You’re a very good salesperson, Daisy. You have an excellent rapport with customers and I’ve seen you secure sales where I thought all hope was lost. But if Buchanans goes down, you go down with it.’
He let the sentence dangle in the air for just a minute. ‘So… all I’m saying is that you might want to think about what side your bread is buttered on when it comes to this contest. You might find it changes your mind about who you want to help.’
A whoosh of heat shot up her neck, and she would have turned and walked right out of the shop, except… She hung her head. Except that Lawrence was right. There was no point having a job in a failing business, and she did still need a job, that much was certain.
She cleared her throat and looked up at him. ‘I appreciate your comments,’ she said stiffly. ‘But under no circumstances am I going to cheat and pick out a piece of jewellery for you. I may be misguided in your eyes, but I do have some integrity and I’d like to retain it.’
She sighed. ‘However, I made a promise to Bea that I would help you all out and so that is what I intend to do. We’re here for the day, Lawrence, and I suggest you use it to your best advantage, not by asking me to cheat, but by doing as Bea suggested and getting to know me. Right now, that’s where your savvy comes in, Lawrence. Now, where do we find Monique?’
* * *
Monique was much older than Daisy had imagined, and ferociously chic. Her jet-black hair, cut in a sharp bob, just grazed the bottom of her sleek jawline, and a slash of bright red lipstick accentuated her angular cheekbones and bright blue eyes. It was approaching lunchtime and so presumably she had been working all morning, yet her makeup was immaculate, as were her clothes. Her tiny frame was accentuated by a nipped-in trouser suit that Daisy could tell was expensive, and a pair of eye-wateringly high shoes completed her look.
‘Lawrence… It’s so good to see you.’ Monique’s kisses, one to either side, landed several inches from his cheek. ‘And tell me, how is the darling Beatrice? I haven’t seen her in far too long.’ A strong French accent accompanied her words.
Without waiting for a reply, Monique fixed her stare on Daisy and studied her intently for what seemed like several minutes. ‘And you are Daisy,’ she said. ‘Of course, and how delightful you are.’
Daisy’s hand strayed to her hair and, spotting it, Monique laughed. ‘Beautiful… and we shall make it more so. All of you.’ She wafted a hand at Lawrence. ‘Now, I do hope you’re not going to get in the way,’ she said. ‘Because Daisy and I are going to be very busy, and we don’t need any interference.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘There are no buts, Lawrence, not with Monique; you should know that by now. Now, go and play somewhere and come back in an hour and a half, not a minute before.’
Monique waited with her hands on her hips until Lawrence had moved away before turning to Daisy. ‘Ah, thank goodness. Beatrice I adore, but Lawrence… he is so dull!’ She bent her head towards Daisy. ‘Do not tell him I said that.’ And she winked. ‘Besides, he will spoil all our fun, and that is not allowed. Beatrice will not thank me at all.’
Daisy gave her a puzzled look. ‘Bea knows I’m here?’
Monique laughed, a loud bark of mirth. ‘Of course! And I know all about her wonderful little competition. In fact, I hear it twice – once, the truth from Beatrice and, twice, the not so truthful from Lawrence.’ She grinned, pointing at her chest. ‘I am the double agent,’ she said.
Daisy still didn’t grasp what she said. She shook her head. ‘Sorry, I’m not completely sure I understand.’
Monique took her arm. ‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘We will have the little tea first, and I will tell you all about it.’
She led Daisy through into a room that would have looked like the lounge area of a swanky hotel had it not been for the mirrored walls to each side. Two big squishy sofas in a beautiful duck-egg blue faced each other over a glass coffee table, and it was to one of these that Monique led her. A silver tray stood in the middle of the table bearing two white cups, a white teapot and white plate, on which stood at least half a dozen pastel-coloured rounds of confectionary. Daisy had no idea what they were.
‘Please, sit down,’ said Monique. ‘You like the tea, yes?’
Daisy nodded, hoping it was just ordinary tea and not some strange herbal mixture. She sank into the sofa and looked around while Monique poured their drinks. Her head was twirling with thoughts.
‘And the macarons? Ah… Ladurée…’ She slid the plate towards Daisy. ‘You must have one. They are the best, naturally, from Paris, of course.’
Daisy selected one, pale green in colour, and turned it around in her hand. It was peculiarly smooth on the surface. ‘I’ve never had one of these before,’ she admitted.
‘Then you have not lived,’ said Monique, smiling. ‘Try it, I guarantee you will like it.’
