Market Street (21 page)

“You can’t stalk the customers.” James slumped on the stool. “This is what I mean. They love our merchandise, they’re just not buying anything.”

*   *   *

Cassie waited
all afternoon for the customer to return. The cinnamon ice cream sat at the register, slowly melting. At closing time, Cassie reluctantly put the wine and pound cake back on the shelf. She said good night to James and drove home, trying to squelch the sick feeling in her stomach.

She walked into Alexis’s kitchen and picked at the Caesar salad Pia had prepared. She wished she could discuss the emporium with Alexis but she was holed up with Princess Giselle. The Black and White Ball was in two weeks and Alexis had been overseeing late-night dress fittings.

Cassie poured herself a glass of lemonade and buttered a sourdough dinner roll. She remembered her mother’s stories of Fenton’s fairy-tale success; it had become a San Francisco institution the moment it opened its doors. She thought about the women from Alexis’s book clubs who rushed in to buy the latest lipsticks and designer bags. She pushed her plate away and put her head in her hands. She had to figure out what was wrong and find a way to fix it.

*   *   *

On Thursday
evening, Andre Blick held a cooking demonstration and women flocked to watch him prepare fondue. Even Alexis pulled herself away from Princess Giselle to see Andre blend chocolate and cream.

“I’ll buy two of whatever he’s selling.” Alexis stood at the back of the crowd next to Cassie. “He’s James Franco with a touch of Andrew Garfield. You should bottle him.”

“Fingers crossed that’s how the other women feel.” Cassie scanned the crowd. A dozen hands shot up when Andre asked for a volunteer to test the fondue. He passed out samples and the women oohed and aahed like teenagers at a rock concert.

When the crowd cleared, James added up the sales and showed them to Cassie. Several women had bought Andre’s cookbook but only one purchased ingredients to make fondue. Cassie stared at the numbers, trying to keep the pit in her stomach from becoming a crater.

“I don’t understand,” she moaned to Alexis, putting pitchers of clotted cream in the fridge. “They loved him. It was like a movie premiere.”

“Maybe they thought they’d get fat.” Alexis scraped cheese from her plate. “Next time have him demonstrate how to make egg white omelets.”

“If this keeps up there won’t be a next time. “Our numbers are terrible.”

“I have to get back to Giselle. She wants me to accessorize her gown. I found a silver Chanel evening bag and a pair of Jimmy Choos that are going to make her come.” Alexis patted Cassie’s hand. “Tomorrow will be better.”

*   *   *

Cassie sat
at her desk staring at the week’s figures. She looked across at James, wanting him to say something that would stop the panic rising in her chest.

“Your mother is going to want to see the numbers soon.” James flipped through the spreadsheets. “I feel like we’re waiting for the guillotine.”

“It’s my head, not yours.” Cassie sighed. It was almost five o’clock and the employees were packing away platters of cheese and vegetables. “Your design is perfect, the blogs raved about it.
SF Gate
said: ‘James Parrish created a space that inspires the mind and warms the soul.’”

“It hasn’t inspired anyone to shop.” James put down his pen. “Why don’t we go see Diana now? I don’t want to spend the weekend worrying whether we’ll be open on Monday.”

*   *   *

Cassie’s mother
sat at her desk, sipping black coffee and eating a sliver of cheesecake.

“Darling, it’s lovely to see you, and James, our rising star.” She got up and kissed Cassie on the cheek. “I’m still receiving e-mails gushing over the opening. You’ve made quite a splash in our little town. Emerald and now the emporium, everyone wants a James Parrish design.”

“I’ll miss San Francisco.” James gazed out the window at the Bay Bridge. He shifted from foot to foot, gripping his yellow notepad with both hands.

“I hope you’re not in a hurry to leave us.” Diana sat down in her Louis XIV chair. “Cassie and I will be lost without you. Can I offer you both some coffee? I’m the only person I know who drinks coffee at this hour. In Europe, everyone drinks espresso in the afternoon. It’s so civilized.” Diana motioned for them to sit on the cream-colored sofa.

Cassie sat awkwardly next to James. She felt any minute she’d be exposed as a failure, and Diana’s good mood would evaporate.

“I want to hear all about the emporium.” Diana poured two demitasses of coffee and handed them to Cassie and James. “I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to poke around. I did pick up a scrumptious amaretto cheesecake.”

“Andre Blick held a cooking demonstration yesterday.” Cassie sipped her coffee. “We had a wonderful turnout.”

“I bumped into him at the elevator.” Diana dropped a sugar cube in her cup. “He resembles a young Cary Grant. I also met Alexis’s Princess Giselle. That woman knows how to use a black card. So tell me”—Diana looked expectantly at Cassie—“how are the sales figures? I’ve heard a whisper Neiman’s is going to open their own food hall. But we did it first, I’m very proud of you.”

“It’s hard to make projections based on the first week of sales,” James interjected. “Buying food at Fenton’s is a new experience for our customers. The floor has been full every day. Our produce selection is getting rave reviews.”

“Excellent.” Diana stood up and walked to the window. She wore Lilly Pulitzer navy slacks with a yellow eyelet sweater. She had a crisp white scarf tied at her neck and white pumps on her feet. She turned and beamed at Cassie.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you in charge. And Alexis is turning out very well. That child could sell oil to Sid Bass.” Diana plucked a thread from her sweater. “Let me see some figures. I’m dying to show our accountant. He thinks women only buy food at supermarkets.”

James placed his yellow pad on Diana’s desk. He and Cassie sat like schoolchildren in the principal’s office while Diana flipped through the pages.

“This is disastrous.” Diana took off her reading glasses and looked at Cassie. “I thought you said the floor was packed.”

“It is packed.” Cassie twisted her hands nervously. “People just aren’t buying. I haven’t figured out why, but I will.”

“You will!” Diana jumped up and paced around the room. “Do you know what we’ve spent on the emporium? The fridges alone cost more than you’ve made in a week. And your suppliers charge a fortune. Label something ‘organic’ and it’s an invitation to triple the price.” Diana sat down and tapped her nails on the cherry desk. “I still believe the market is ripe for this type of venture. You must be doing something wrong.”

“Maybe I made the walls too red,” James volunteered, glancing at Cassie, who was trying to stop her lip from trembling. “Maybe the environment isn’t conducive to spending.”

“Nonsense.” Diana dismissed him. “You have a proven track record. Emerald has a month-long waiting list. It’s all about good management. Your employees are your troops, Cassie. You have to train them to win the war.”

“It’s early.” Cassie’s voice wobbled. “I thought if I can hold more events, or maybe some two-for-one giveaways.”

“It’s not a cash and carry,” Diana bristled. “We do not give things away at Fenton’s. I’m late for the opening of a Russian restaurant. I appreciate you trying to help, James”—Diana stood up and slipped on a white linen jacket—“but this is Cassie’s baby.”

“I’m going to turn it around.” Cassie nodded, blinking so her mother didn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Fenton’s can’t carry the emporium for long, it will eat up the profits.” Diana reapplied red lipstick. “We’ll meet again next Friday and I expect to see a very different picture.”

*   *   *

Cassie sat
on the sofa, taking deep breaths. She waited until Diana closed the door and then she stood up and placed the coffee cup on the sideboard. Her hands were shaking and she felt like there was a steel band across her forehead.

“Cassie.” James put his hand on her shoulder.

“I have to go home.” Cassie didn’t turn around. She grabbed her purse and ran out the door, down five flights of stairs to the parking garage.

“Cassie,” James called as she was about to get into her car.

“My mother’s right, James. This isn’t your problem.”

“We’ve both worked really hard.” James had raced down the stairs and run through the garage to catch up with her. “It just takes a bit of time.”

“Maybe I should go back to volunteering with Alice Waters.”

“You don’t look like a quitter.”

“I’m not a quitter, I’m a failure.” Cassie turned away so James wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “I’ve failed at my marriage, I’ve failed at Fenton’s.”

“From where I stand you’re the one keeping your marriage together.” James put his hand on her shoulder. “And you’re going to be brilliant at Fenton’s. Your mother is unrealistic; she wants things to happen yesterday.”

“Alexis was an immediate success.” Cassie moved away. “She’s doubled sales.”

“Alexis took over something with a sterling reputation. You’re starting fresh.”

Cassie opened the car door and slumped in the seat. She laid her head on the steering wheel and let tears fall onto her lap.

“Cassie.” James got into the passenger seat.

“I’m such a baby. I cry all the time. I didn’t used to.” She sat forward and wiped her eyes.

“Since Emily and I broke up, I cry whenever I hear Muse on the radio.”

“My marriage isn’t breaking up,” Cassie replied defensively.

“But a grenade landed in the middle of it, that makes you vulnerable.”

“The food emporium is so important to me.” Cassie put the keys in the ignition. “Aidan didn’t want me to do it at all. What will he think if it’s a failure?”

“I read somewhere that Simon Cowell couldn’t get a gig on television, that’s why he produced his own show.”

“I’m not Simon Cowell.” Cassie tried to smile.

“You’re much prettier.” James squeezed her hand. “And you don’t have his annoying British accent.”

“Or his mind for business.” Cassie shifted in her seat. “Everything about the emporium is fantastic: the food, the design, the florals. Why isn’t anyone spending money?”

“Let’s go to Clown Alley, eat greasy fries, and throw around ideas,” James suggested.

Cassie turned and glanced at James. He looked so earnest behind his glasses. His legs were spread out in front of him and his yellow notepad was in his lap.

“I should go home.” Cassie shook her head. “Aidan will be back in less than a week. I want to figure this out before he gets here.”

James leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. He tasted like coffee and peppermint. He touched her chin and got out of the car. Cassie watched him walk across the garage. She turned the key in the ignition and drove onto the street, trying to ignore the lump forming in her throat.

*   *   *

Alexis’s house
was dark when Cassie pulled into the driveway. Alexis was at a gallery opening with Princess Giselle, taking one of her new couture outfits for a “test run.” Alexis was obsessed with making Giselle the most blogged about fixture in San Francisco society. She dragged her to restaurant openings, charity functions, ribbon cuttings, anything that would end up on Twitter.

“We are so lucky to have a princess shopping exclusively at Fenton’s.” Alexis had remarked over whole-wheat pancakes and orange juice that morning. “I’m going to make her this summer’s trendsetter. Every woman in the Junior League is going to want to dress like Giselle. She’s Princess Kate with a German accent.”

“I thought she was from Liechtenstein,” Cassie had replied, pushing the pancake around her plate.

“Thank God she has legs like a greyhound.” Alexis had finished her orange juice. “She could be one of those royals with thighs like tree trunks.”

*   *   *

Cassie stepped
out of the car, thinking breakfast was ages ago. She couldn’t remember eating lunch and suddenly realized she was starving. She opened the front door and walked to the kitchen. It was Pia’s night off and the counters were scrubbed clean. Pia left a note saying there was Swedish casserole in the fridge. Cassie crumpled up the note and threw it in the garbage.

She opened the fridge and stood in front of it. She could make a tuna melt with melted jack cheese and thick slices of yellow tomatoes. Or she could take her time and boil brown rice, chop green onions and mushrooms, and make a pilaf. She grabbed an apron and assembled ingredients. She would forget about the emporium, forget about Aidan coming home, block out James’s kiss, and prepare a wonderful dinner. Then she would pour a glass of wine, and eat it by herself at Alexis’s kitchen table.

16.

Cassie and
Alexis sat in the conservatory drinking iced tea and reading the Sunday newspapers. Cassie wore a sheer cotton robe over her swimsuit. She had risen early and swum fifty laps. Then she sat in the steam room, visualizing women laden with Fenton’s bags of sourdough bread, cheese, and juicy green grapes.

Alexis had jogged back from a morning yogalates class and was massaging her thighs with warm jasmine oil. She wore a purple leotard and yellow leggings. Her hair was piled into a high ponytail and tied with a purple ribbon.

“When Carter returns I’m going to borrow his Kindle. We’re reading a dozen eucalyptus trees.” Alexis surveyed the pile of newspapers on the glass table.

“Aidan thinks reading should be laborious. One should work to turn the pages.” Cassie grabbed the Vows section of
The New York Times
. “Have you heard from Carter?”

“He sends texts but he uses words like ‘billabong’ and ‘Woolloomooloo.’ I keep having to stop and look them up in an Australian dictionary.” Alexis flipped through the
Chronicle
’s pink section. “When is Aidan coming home?”

“Thursday.” Cassie took a deep breath. “I reserved a night at the Mark Hopkins with a couples massage and dinner at Top of the Mark.”

“Going all out.” Alexis whistled. “He’ll be in a sexual haze for days.”