Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Running Springs, California, was in San Bernardino County; Nova had flown into the LA Ontario airport and picked up her rental SUV, then used her phone’s navigation app to find the converted warehouse where Anders Patwin both designed and created. She’d spoken to his daughter Eva who worked with him and evidently handled all the business side of Anders, the name under which everything was sold, and set up an appointment for after lunch.
She’d gotten the estimated travel time from the airport to Patwin’s address, calculated how long it would take her to collect the rental, and everything else she could anticipate. She couldn’t control whether or not there were flight delays but coming in the day before hadn’t been an option; all she could do was pray for an uneventful trip. That particular prayer had been answered. The flights had been on time, her luggage was carryon, and the car rental process acceptable. She even had time to grab a protein drink for her own lunch.
San Bernardino was the largest county in the country, bigger than the combined size of several smaller states. The scenery of the multi-colored mountains and increasingly desert landscape was so breathtaking Nova had to make herself pay attention to her driving. She loved the lush greenery of the South, the mountains around Huntsville where she lived, but she felt comfortable here, too. She liked the colors of the desert, the purple mountains, the spareness. This time of year there was also the creativity of non-traditional Christmas decorations to enjoy, like the skinny man dressed in a Santa suit, dancing around a cactus. The Santa was alive but the cactus appeared to be plastic, and was adorned with Christmas lights. The spirit of the holiday must have been strong in Santa . . . or some other type of spirit was. Either way, she enjoyed the dance. He had talent.
Patwin didn’t actually live in Running Springs, but just outside the city limits. Nova understood the strategy, which eliminated one set of regulations that had to be followed. When her phone announced that she’d arrived at her destination, she stopped and looked around. The cinder block house was some distance from the neighbors, and behind it was more what she’d call a large garage than a warehouse. It wouldn’t attract undue attention, especially if they picked up shipments of supplies rather than having them delivered. Delivery trucks rolling in every day would be obvious. She didn’t know enough about zoning and business taxes in California to make assumptions.
The house was pleasant looking, painted a soft greige, with spare but colorful landscaping. The driveway was concrete, curving around the side of the house to the garage/warehouse. A white Dodge Ram was parked to the side, off the driveway, and a small blue Prius was beside it. A third car, a gray Nissan, was beside the Prius. Nova parked beside the Nissan and got out. The temperature was cool, around fifty degrees, with a breeze. The light-weight jacket she wore wasn’t quite warm enough, but she didn’t expect she’d be standing outside while she talked to Anders Patwin.
She knocked on the side door, heard a muted “Minute!” In less time than that the door opened. “Are you Nova Shelley?” The man standing there was medium height, spare and hard like a nail, with sharply angular features and long dark hair going gray at the temples. The hair was pulled back and secured with a thick red rubber band. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved green jersey. The red rubber band and green shirt may have been his nod to the holidays.
“I am.”
“C’mon in, then.” He stepped aside so she could enter, closed the door, then offered his hand. “Anders Patwin.”
“Nova Shelley.” She repeated her name as she shook his hand, making her own grip firm because she hated a limp-fish handshake.
He nodded. “Would you like something to drink? Green tea? Something herbal?”
“Thank you, no, I have a bottle of water.” She indicated the rich brown leather tote she carried. She’d learned long ago that having her own drink saved her from accepting a drink she might not like.
“Let’s go into the office and discuss things.” He raised his voice and said, “Eva! This is Nova Shelley.”
A young woman who strongly resembled him except that her hair was platinum white, didn’t look up from the pottery wheel where she was shaping a delicate vase, but said, “Hello.”
“Hello.” Nova paused to admire the vase. Anders’ website featured the pottery but she didn’t sell pottery in her clothing boutique, so she hadn’t really looked at it. Now, seeing this particular vase, she began visualizing some well-placed pieces of unique pottery as decoration. What she was more interested in were the pieces of jewelry made to complement Anders’ designs. “Does Eva make the jewelry too?” she asked as they passed into a small office that was crowded with electronics.
“No, my wife Jolaine makes the jewelry pieces. She doesn’t do it for everything I design, just the ones she particularly likes.” Anders pulled a bottle of green tea from a small refrigerator and twisted off the cap, took a drink as he dropped into an old office chair with cracked black leather. “I keep telling her the pieces, both hers and mine, would sell better if they all had the push of selling both together, but she says some of my pieces are too boring.” He grunted. “I don’t tell her when I don’t like what she’s made.”
“You don’t have to,” said a small, muscular woman as she opened the door and came in. “You get the same sour expression you have now, like you’ve smelled something bad.” She pulled another bottle of green tea from the fridge and sat down in a third chair, then leaned across to shake Nova’s hand. Jolaine’s hands were strong and workmanlike, the nails short and polish-free. “I’ve looked at your website,” she told Nova. “You have a knack of putting outfits together with unexpected little twists. Do you design?”
“No, my big talent is being organized, and seeing possibilities in mixing styles and accessories. Oh, and putting up Christmas decorations.”
“I’d pay you to do the Christmas decorating,” Jolaine said, laughing. “I’m horrible at it. Our tree always looks as if a three-year-old decorated it. I can rework any piece of jewelry until I’m satisfied with it, but I lose my patience when it comes to decorations. The grandkids don’t care, though, as long as there are twinkling lights.”
“You have grandchildren?”
That was the best conversation starter in the world. Both Anders and Jolaine lit up as if a switch had been thrown, and they had tale after tale of the three most wonderful children — their words — in the world. Nova was happy to talk about family for a while, get a feel for the people she hoped to be doing business with.
After half an hour of chatting, the feel she’d gotten was that they were true artists in their chosen fields, loved their work but didn’t ignore the business side of things. They also didn’t need to add her boutique to their vendors; they had very little inventory because they were already working as much and as fast as they wanted to work.
She sat back in her chair and took a sip from her water bottle as she considered her position. “You don’t need me,” she said thoughtfully. “I have a successful store and the merchandise I purchase moves fast, but your designs already move fast at the stores that are on your list of vendors.”
“That’s true,“ Anders replied. “That doesn’t mean we can’t expand. We’d be foolish to think that our situation now, though it’s a good one, can’t and won’t change. Everything changes. People die, stores change hands or go out of business, styles that are popular one day can’t be given away the next. And now’s the point when I think we need to bring Eva in on this discussion because she’s the one with the business mind.”
Eva strongly resembled her father but with her mother’s strong hands. She brought a tablet with her, stood it on Anders’ desk, and tapped away as she talked to Nova, asking questions, chatting. From where she sat Nova could see the screen and realized Eva was checking many of the statistics and comparisons she had looked at herself. Normally she would sit and let the potential vendors sort through their own conclusions on the theory that no one liked being pressured, but this time she pulled out her own tablet and showed some outfits she’d put together but weren’t on her website — yet. Sometimes holding back a little something extra worked better.
Anders leaned in, asking questions about the fabric, why she’d chosen that particular color scheme, why a plain black belt instead of one that was more substantial and also blended better with the dress. She had other examples on her tablet, a white skirt with a black silk scoop neck tee and black sandals, and simple jewelry; even though the entire ensemble was less than a hundred and fifty dollars, it screamed style in the same way a Parisian could use a simple scarf and make an outfit look expensive.
Almost everything Anders produced cost more than most of her inventory, but she didn’t think his designs were so expensive she’d be pricing herself out of the market. With Eva’s permission, she used Eva’s tablet to show how she would put together some of Anders’ designs so garments that hadn’t been made to be complementary somehow were. Jolaine leaned closer. “Yes, I see that,” she said thoughtfully. “Perhaps the Dragon’s Kiss necklace would pair well.”
A little shock ran down Nova’s spine. Having looked at the website many times she knew Jolaine named her jewelry pieces, but she didn’t remember seeing one with that name.
Silently she did a search using that name and a fiery bloom filled the screen, dark reds and yellows mingled around a black crystal center. She could almost — almost — see the figure of a dragon in the design. Her stomach tightened as she moved it on-screen, using the magic of electronics to rotate the outfit so the necklace hung backwards with the jeweled design in the middle of the mannequin’s back. “Two small invisible clips will hold the necklace to the side so the weight doesn’t pull on the throat,” she murmured.
“I like that,” Anders said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s sexy.”
Jolaine made a noise in her throat and gave him an amused look. He spread his hands. “I know what appeals to me,” he said unapologetically.
Nova could barely look away from the necklace. It felt like an omen, as if the dragon she had left at home was still urging her on, daring her to be bold. She could be bold; she’d been a bold child, exploring, hanging upside down on the monkey bars, charging at life. She’d been bold when she strained her finances to the breaking point to open her own business, and that had worked out very well, so well that now she was perhaps on the verge of another bold move.
“I love this necklace,” she murmured, wishing she was holding the actual piece in her hand and not just seeing it on a screen.
“It’s new,” Eva said. “I just added it to the website a couple of hours ago.”
“It speaks to you,” Jolaine said, watching Nova with a gentle smile on her face. “Dragons do that to some people. I think they used to truly exist, because they’re in the tales of all ancient civilizations, on all continents.”
The dragon ornament had certainly spoken to her, Nova thought, and now this Dragon’s Kiss necklace felt meant, a benediction of this business gamble, this entire trip. Whether or not dragons had truly existed in ancient times wasn’t important now, and if it was only her imagination giving importance to the ornament and necklace, that was okay. Instinct existed as an internal guide, one she intended to follow.
Nova had thought she’d spend an hour talking to Anders and leave either with an agreement or a “Sorry, I don’t think we’d be a good fit.” Instead a subtle harmony developed in the room, a hum of creativity, and her arrangement selections triggered Anders to grab his sketch pad and begin furiously drawing garment after garment, rough lines that still gave the impression of drape and flow. He made notes about fabric type, color, while Jolaine did her own sketching of jewelry pieces, sometimes a clip at the waist, sometimes a necklace, sometimes a serpentine forearm wrap.
The sun began to dip low on the horizon, painting the mountains with darkening shades of purple, and it was twilight before Nova left, almost dazed from the lightning flow of ideas that had energized them for the last few hours. They had an agreement that would have to be legally finalized but she was both tired and elated. The price point still made putting Anders’ clothing in her store a risk, but it felt right, both the move and the timing.
She’d originally planned to drive farther east toward Hoover Dam and spend the next day sight-seeing, but it was too late for that now; she was tired from the day of travel and the creative frenzy, the distance was too far and night was coming fast. Instead she checked into a decent small hotel — indoor room entrances — then ventured out for something to eat. She called Granita and checked in, took care of some texts from her employees, and ignored the other calls and texts. She had taken the precaution that morning of turning off her notifications and location tagging except for her navigation app. This was now her vacation, her drive-and-see-what-happens adventure.
Sunrise the next morning saw her on the interstate heading north toward Barstow, bypassing the Twentynine Palms Marine base. From Barstow she’d angle northeast toward Nevada. She had one definite plan in mind and timing was important, requiring a day of hard, fast driving. Her stops for food and gas were plotted, and she had extra food and water in the SUV.
Timing wasn’t the only important detail. She had also carefully planned her appearance so that she looked exactly like what she was, a successful, fashionable businesswoman. Her light brown hair was a smooth, sleek sweep that fell to just below her shoulder blades; her makeup was subtle and flattering. She’d chosen pants in a fluid, taupe-colored fabric, darker taupe pumps, and a cream silk tunic, with small gold hoop earrings as her only jewelry. Fashionable sunglasses shielded her eyes from the sun as she drove east. The weather was cool and sunny but when the sun set the temperature would drop and she’d need the soft leather coat she’d brought.
All in all, it was a lovely day for a long drive, and she enjoyed pushing the SUV faster than the speed limit, relying on her navigation app to warn her of any radar traps. Soon enough she might lose cell service and would have to either slow down or risk a ticket, but for now she was flying. She thought of the black dragon and her lips curved. Risk.
Knowing she would almost certainly lose cell service, she’d written down directions, making note of the mile markers where gas stations were located — risk not being synonymous with stupid — as well as where she could stop for food. She had a reservation at a motel for the coming night, all of her devices were charged, and she even had a weapon of sorts. A rolling pin emblazoned with Running Springs wasn’t going to inspire fear in anyone . . . until they got cracked in the head with it. She had also bought a cheap pen knife at a service station, practiced opening and closing it, and now it was in her pants pocket. She didn’t feel prepared for any situation but neither did she feel helpless. Besides, she had years of martial arts training under her belt . . . her brown belt.
She wasn’t a bad ass, but she was half-ass bad, and all the more effective because no one expected her to be able to kick them in the face while wearing high-heeled pumps.
Anticipation hummed through her veins, making her smile as she drove farther east into the desert and the signs of civilization began getting farther and farther apart. The interstate highway was like a ribbon of modern life winding through prehistoric land, with distant mountains, raw-colored rock formations, and the alien-looking Joshua trees pressing on each side. Every so often nature presented a strip of green, some trees; she saw no visible reason why the green should be there, unless some underground water rose closer to the surface in those patches.
Being out of her element was good; not having to worry about work, juggle schedules, settle disputes — she hadn’t realized how fettered she’d been by the responsibilities she had gladly taken on, until now when she had to handle no one’s schedule except her own. When she returned home she’d enjoy daily details, happier because she’d had this time to herself.