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Authors: Anita Hughes

Market Street (15 page)

BOOK: Market Street
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“The marble pedestals I ordered got stuck in a snowstorm in Utah. They sent them back to the warehouse and a salesperson sold them to a library in Alabama. It will take the supplier two months to make new ones.” James took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I really wanted to carry the Roman banquet theme throughout the floor and those pedestals were perfect.”

Cassie looked at James. He wore what had become his work uniform: a light blue button-down shirt, khaki trousers, and leather loafers. He shifted from foot to foot like a schoolboy who had failed his science project.

“I’ll call Stella Kim, she was Alexis’s wedding planner. Alexis and Carter had a
Roman Holiday
–themed wedding and Stella placed marble pedestals all over the ballroom. I bet she could find what you’re looking for.”

James hesitated. “They have to be the right height, and they have to be Roman columns, not Greek.”

“You are picky,” Cassie joked. “I’m glad I’m not one of your suppliers.”

“I’m sorry.” James blushed. “Your mother calls me every day for an update. I dread telling her there’s a library in Alabama with her Roman columns.”

“I’ve got Stella’s number on my computer. Give me an hour and I’ll see what I can do.” Cassie walked to the corner of the floor that she had set up as her office.

Cassie called Stella and was told by Stella’s assistant to try Axel, her florist. Cassie waited on the phone while Axel’s assistant located Axel at the flower mart. Axel shrieked that he remembered Cassie well; she had looked divine in the Roman toga Alexis made her wear as the matron of honor.

“Roman pedestals?” Axel asked loudly. Cassie could hear vendors shouting the price of purple orchids in the background. “Alexis isn’t redecorating her monolithic mansion again, is she?”

“No, it’s for Fenton’s. We’re putting in a food emporium in the basement and the pedestals the designer ordered were stranded in Utah.”

“A food emporium, how divinely exciting!” Axel cooed. “You should stock my bouquets. I’ll hand deliver them daily, fresh from the flower mart.”

“That’s a great idea.” Cassie grabbed a pen and wrote on a big yellow notepad, “Axel signature arrangements available only at Fenton’s.”

“Darling, I could tell at Alexis’s wedding that you had hidden talents. I’d love to help find your pedestals. Let me make a few calls, I’ll ring you back.”

While Cassie waited she consulted her to-do list. There were always a dozen people to call and she loved the satisfaction of checking off names and numbers. She gazed around at the emporium and imagined it decorated for the grand opening. She had ordered two hundred red balloons imprinted with Fenton’s signature. They would cascade from the ceiling while Tony Bennett sang “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.”

She and James spent a whole day debating who should perform at the grand opening. She suggested hiring a Bay Area band: Green Day or Train. Finally they agreed no one embodied San Francisco like Tony Bennett. When Cassie called Tony’s people and he agreed to participate, she had a smile glued on her face for days.

Cassie crossed Alice Waters’s name off the list and put three exclamation marks beside it. She chewed the end of her pen. Which gorgeous young San Francisco socialite would be best to cut the red ribbon? She could call Marissa Mayer: Yahoo! honcho and girl about town, or Gavin Newsom’s wife, Jennifer. She flipped through a copy of
San Francisco
magazine. Gavin and Jennifer were such a beautiful couple, they made Brad and Angelina look over the hill. Or there was Vanessa Getty, who always seemed to have a new baby on her hip while maintaining the waist measurements of Posh Spice.

The phone rang at Cassie’s elbow.

“I have your Roman columns, darling,” Axel cooed. “A friend at the Legion of Honor owed me a favor. Be gentle.” Axel’s laugh tinkled down the phone line. “They’re quite old.”

“You’re amazing.” Cassie beamed. “James will be so relieved.”

“I’m creating a new arrangement for Fenton’s: red roses, white chrysanthemums, pink tulips. And I’m driving back to the studio to blog about your delicious food emporium!”

“I’ll save you a seat at the grand opening. Tony Bennett is going to sing.”

“You’ve made my day,” Axel drawled. “I wouldn’t miss Tony Bennett for the world.”

Cassie hung up and went to find James. He was poring over fabric swatches in different shades of red.

“I found your Roman columns. Axel, Alexis’s florist, has a friend at the Legion of Honor. I expect you’ll have to return them eventually, but they’ll work until the others arrive.” Cassie sat down on a stool at the counter.

“You’re a lifesaver.” James looked up. “Shall we celebrate with two cheeseburgers and a double order of fries?”

“I think I better go back to watercress salads at the café. My skirts are getting tight.” Cassie picked up a swatch and held it to the light.

“There’s just something about a McDonald’s burger when I spend all day staring at linen samples.” James smiled.

“It’s the grease, it’s addictive,” Cassie replied. “I should go upstairs and check on Alexis. We had a crisis this morning. Derek injured his back, so I coerced Alexis into being interim store manager.”

“Your friend Alexis?” James asked, puzzled.

“She doesn’t have any experience, but she has more style than Nicole Kidman, Katie Holmes, and Heidi Klum combined. Plus she grew up in the store with me.”

“I’ll come with you. I need a break from staring at these swatches. I feel like a bull in the ring.”

*   *   *

Alexis was
sitting on a high stool at the Chanel counter next to a woman wearing a Miu Miu dress and thigh-high Prada boots.

Alexis waved for Cassie and James to join them. “Cassie, meet my friend Princess Giselle. She’s a real princess from Liechtenstein. It turns out her husband, Prince Günter, and Carter are old friends. Giselle and Günter’s castle is getting a new roof and Giselle decided to spend the summer in San Francisco. Carter gave her my phone number and she tracked me down to Fenton’s. We were just moaning over the fact she has nothing to wear. Her suitcases were practically empty.

“I loaded her up with a few things from Prada and John Galliano and Caroline Herrera. Giselle can’t make her entry into San Francisco society in après-ski clothes from Gstaad.” Alexis laughed. “I wish we were in Gstaad, I had the best time there on my honeymoon, but this is California. Now we’re finishing up with a teeny makeover.” Alexis pointed to a tall pile of cosmetics on the counter. “I told Giselle she is punishing her skin by not using Chanel’s skin drencher. And the eye revitalizer is so refreshing, you don’t have to sleep.”

Princess Giselle kept her mouth closed so the cosmetician could apply lipstick, mascara, and powder. Alexis winked at Cassie and made dollar signs behind her back.

“Just a spritz of Chanel No. 5 and you’re on your way.” Alexis admired Giselle’s complexion. “Kitty will ring you up and I’ll have John call a taxi. Let me tap my number into your cell phone in case we missed something. I can always messenger it to your hotel.”

*   *   *

“I thought
Carter was in Luxembourg,” Cassie said after Giselle followed the doorman to a waiting cab.

“One of those little countries starting in L.” Alexis shrugged. “Apparently Prince Günter invested the royal fortune in an alternative energy company that was undercapitalized. It was about to go under, but Carter came in and saved the day. He turned the company around and now it is printing money. It paid for a new roof and a summer cottage on the Black Sea. Giselle is so grateful she bought half the second floor, and she’s coming back to be fitted for a couture gown for the ballet.”

“Your connections are more complex than a black widow’s web.” Cassie grinned. “James and I are going to get a bite. Come join us.”

“It has to be somewhere I can take off my shoes.” Alexis moaned, bending down and rubbing her ankles.

*   *   *

They spread
out a Burberry picnic blanket and sat cross-legged on the floor of Diana’s office. James ducked across the street and returned with three containers of Thai-fusion noodles and a carton of sautéed vegetables. Cassie ran up to the café and got two loaves of bread, a pot of hummus, and three cans of Coke.

“I didn’t know the café served Coke.” Alexis popped hers open and poured it down her throat.

“It doesn’t. The employees keep their own cans in the fridge. I left them five dollars.” Cassie giggled.

“Fenton’s café has delicious entrées.” James ladled noodles and vegetables onto the white china plates Cassie found in her mother’s cabinet.

“They’ve just been serving the same grilled salmon for twenty years.” Cassie sighed, stabbing a snow pea.

“I disagree.” James sipped his Coke. “My mother would be dismayed if the café didn’t offer petit filet mignon. The emporium will serve samples of the ‘hip’ foods. We’ll keep all our customers happy.”

Cassie wound noodles around her fork. She ate them quickly and started choking. James leaned forward and pounded her on the back.

“You just gave me the best idea,” Cassie said.

“To chew before you swallow?” Alexis asked.

“I’ve been trying to line up celebrity chefs to attend the grand opening, but I’ve only targeted the old guard. We need young chefs that are on the cutting edge of the new cuisine to endorse the emporium.”

“That’s brilliant!” James’s eyes sparkled. “Each chef could give a cooking class using emporium ingredients.”

“We can ask Trent Brown.” Cassie grabbed a pen and paper from her mother’s desk.

“And Roland Ames, the chef at Emerald. He used to be on television. He’d be a natural,” James suggested.

“I know the most divine chef in Marin, Andre Blick.” Alexis spread hummus on her bread. “He owns a bistro that serves fondue. He is movie-star handsome. The girls in my book club take pictures of him with their iPhones.”

“You ask him,” Cassie said to Alexis. “No Frenchman could resist your accent.”

“I took three years of French at the Convent, followed by a summer in Paris. My accent is flawless.” Alexis pouted.

“We could all have dinner there together. Fondue is better shared,” James suggested. “What about Saturday night?”

“I have a Skype date with Carter,” Alexis said.

“Cassie?” James asked expectantly.

Cassie kept her eyes on the spot of soy sauce that dribbled onto her skirt. “Aidan is taking me out to dinner at Green’s.”

“Green’s.” Alexis whistled. “Who did Aidan bribe to get that reservation?”

“I’ll go by myself”—James started stacking containers—“but I can’t promise Andre will agree to attend the grand opening. I’m not as cute as either of you.”

*   *   *

Cassie spent
the rest of the afternoon on the phone with suppliers. She was creating a fantasy chocolate section in the front of the store that would feature chocolates she had dreamed of as a child. She finally found a local chocolatier excited to whip up her ideas. She glanced at her watch and realized it was after 5:00
P.M.

“I printed an invitation for Emily, but I don’t have her address,” Cassie interrupted James, who was bent over yards of red drapery.

James took the envelope and admired the smooth satin finish. “She’s expecting a big furniture delivery that day.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “But I’m sure she’ll love to receive an invitation.”

“I’m going to see if Alexis has collected any more princesses or movie stars.” Cassie grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Cassie took the escalator upstairs and found Alexis surrounded by a group of women wearing leotards and tights.

“Cassie, do you remember Nellie Vincent from the Convent?” Alexis motioned to her to join them. “She’s married to Hunter Green now. It’s such a small world. Hunter was just in Venice and gave Carter a ride to Berlin on his G4. I said, if those boys are swanning around on their private jets, Nellie deserves to treat herself to a little cashmere.”

Nellie slipped on chocolate brown cashmere gloves and made small mewing noises as if she was stroking a kitten.

“And these are the girls from my yoga class: Caitlin, Holly, and Peta. I tweeted them we just got in the most divine pashminas.” Alexis consulted her Cartier. “Oh, my goodness, girls, it’s almost closing time. We better ring these up and get you home before those pesky husbands start demanding predinner cocktails.”

Cassie watched Alexis load the women up with red Fenton’s boxes. “And I promise I’ll tweet as soon as we get in more of these pillbox hats.” Alexis kissed each woman on the cheek.

“Oh, God,” Alexis said when the women were gone and the store was quiet. “Wearing Louboutins on a marble floor for eight hours was a mistake. Can we stop and get a pedicure on the way home?”

“I’ll text Pia and tell her to run you a hot bath.” Cassie grinned.

“Ask her to make a stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Alexis moaned. “I’m starving.”

*   *   *

Cassie swam
forty laps and sat for twenty minutes in Alexis’s steam room. She wrapped herself in a terry robe and joined Alexis, who was collapsed on the sofa in the living room.

“I’m never going to move again,” Alexis groaned when Cassie suggested they eat dinner.

“Pia left us tuna casserole and scalloped potatoes. And I saw a German chocolate cake on the counter. You can’t let me into the kitchen alone.”

*   *   *

“Did you
really tweet those women in your yoga class?” Cassie cut two slices of cake and gave one to Alexis.

“Tweeting is the only way to transfer information.” Alexis poured two glasses of milk.

“Fenton’s doesn’t have a Twitter account or a Facebook page. Someone has to inform your mother about social media.”

“My mother thinks tweeting is what birds do.” Cassie licked chocolate from her fork.

“He really is cute.” Alexis nibbled frosting.

“Who are you talking about?”

“James, our Hugh Grant. Remember how he pounded your back when you were choking? He is such a knight in shining armor. And I love his preppy clothes. He belongs on the set of
Gossip Girl.

BOOK: Market Street
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