Page 73 of The Good Neighbour
She stopped. “Oh God, what? Spit it out.”
“How do you fancy this being the Winterton/Peters Collection?”
Stunned, Suzanne sat back in her chair.
“Why?”
He stared into her eyes. “Because I want to hand the baton over to you properly.”
Even through the radio blaring out, it was as though the world had stopped. Suzanne seemed to be genuinely lost for words.
“What the fuck?”
Okay, maybe she had a slight grasp of the English language.
“Cut needs new ideas. This stuff is nowhere near as good as the collection you headed up last year. My heart isn’t in it and it shows.”
She shook her head. “Are you mad? I’m going to be a mum in mere weeks. I can’t.”
Josh shrugged. “I think you can. We’ll make the best of this and you can take as long as you need. Then return to work and kill it.”
“What are you going to do?”
He puffed up his chest. “I’m launching a label for drag queens. Serious couture.”
Now it looked as if her jaw would hit the floor.
“I will still own Cut,” he explained. “You’ll have full control and a stake. We’ll get the lawyers to work all that shit out. Say yes. Please.”
Her eyes were dancing. “I can’t make that decision on my own. You know that. I’m so flattered. Drag queen couture? It could work, you know.”
“I know. Well, go on then.”
“Go where?”
“Home to talk out this offer.”
“Now?”
“Fuck it, we’re the bosses. Take the day off.”
She dashed around the table and kissed his cheek. “The shock is wearing off and this is growing on me. I’ll have a decision for you tomorrow. I promise.”
He kissed her hand.
He watched her practically sprint out of the studio and down the stairs. If she said no, he would be tempted to close the label. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to design for Cut other than Suzanne. Deep down, he suspected she knew that.
The clothes on the table would keep for another day. Josh grabbed a pad and pencil. He flopped down on the couch. He wanted to sketch out an idea he’d had for a racy gown in the tartan Mrs Wimpole had been sporting the day before. It would be a great contrast.
When Josh sketched, he completely lost himself. He was playing with ideas for names for this brand. Each word surrounding the new and first proper design he’d done.
Tuck.
It was perfect. It followed in the vibe of Cut. It showed that there would still be the Winterton touch.
Desperate to ring Hugh to tell him, he leapt up to grab his phone.
Then he heard footsteps on the stairs. It must be the man himself, coming to surprise him.
