Simon glanced at her, admiring the way every movement Rachel made seemed graceful and alluring. With difficulty he banished the thought—this meeting was business and had nothing to do with male-female attraction.
“I’m especially interested in clients who don’t fit stereotypes of popular beauty, but have their own unique qualities.”
“Aren’t all advertisers looking for distinctiveness?” he asked, thinking it was ironic that a woman who looked like Rachel, and who was such a classic beauty, wanted to work with clients who were different in some way.
“Yes and no. There’s a tendency for one type to become popular and suddenly everyone wants a version of it. But in recent years there’s been an exploration of talent that’s broader in scope.” She laughed. “I should say a renewed exploration. It’s cyclic, like the antihero in film and television or literature. You go through a period where a certain type is popular, then people start wanting something new.”
It made sense. “Do the unique individuals get the big contracts?”
“Occasionally, though it’s less likely, especially in modeling. People can find it challenging to recognize nontraditional beauty or good looks. But it’s happening.”
“Surely representing that sort of client isn’t the most profitable choice for a talent agency.”
Rachel cocked her head. “Perhaps, but we want to develop talent, whether it fits a certain mold or not. I never had the impression Liv’ing Creations was trying to compete with the huge designers, either. You said yourself that your wife wasn’t interested in becoming a clone of other fashion houses. The same goes for Moonlight Ventures—we don’t want to be a clone of other agencies.”
Simon thought about his father’s scorn at Olivia’s lack of mega-aspirations. She’d laughed about it, unconcerned that her father-in-law had disapproved of her goals. “Liv used to say she wanted to fill a niche in the market, but didn’t care about being the market.”
“I would have liked your wife. It... Well, it must still be hard without her.”
He managed a nod. Most of the time he could think about Olivia without being overwhelmed with pain, but it wasn’t easy. “At least the pain no longer hits like an 18-wheeler the way it did at first.”
Rachel straightened and stared through the windshield; her face seemed sad. “I’m sorry you lost what you had together. You were fortunate to have found someone like that.”
“Thank you.”
Strangely, for all the urging to “buck up,” the platitudes and the sentimentality that had been poured over him, Rachel’s quiet comment meant the most. Perhaps it came at the right moment, reminding him he had been fortunate. His life with Olivia hadn’t been perfect, but perfection was overrated. They’d been in love and had enjoyed nine good years together, which was more than many people got.
He glanced at Rachel, whose face still wore a sad, distant expression. Her divorce must have been difficult since she claimed to no longer be interested in marriage or romance.
Simon recalled seeing something about the end of her marriage in various internet articles, though he’d skipped over the gory details. She’d overcome pain in a number of different ways; he admired that.
He fixed his gaze forward, frustrated that he kept thinking about Rachel in such personal terms. Even if he was willing to consider another long-term relationship, he simply wasn’t ready.
Olivia was a ghost, haunting his heart and mind.
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