fabric, and Meredith carefully unfastened the clasp. She took a moment to study the pin, holding it carefully in the palm of her hand. It was amazingly unique. Anyone would notice that. As she was a jewelry designer, it seemed even more remarkable to her. It was a one-of-a-kind item you might come upon in an “arty” shop of handmade jewelry or in a place that handled estate sales and antique pieces. Meredith’s landlady, Rose Carson, had given it to her just last night, when she’d been down at Rose’s apartment having coffee. Rose was wearing the pin and Meredith had admired it. Then, without any warning at all, Rose took the pin off and offered it to her, insisting that Meredith borrow it for a while.
“Rose, it’s lovely. But it must be very precious to you…. What if I lose it?” Meredith had asked.
“Don’t be silly, you won’t lose it,” Rose had insisted. “Here, put it on.” Rose had helped Meredith with the clasp. “Let’s see how it looks.”
Meredith had to agree it looked stunning. Yet, she still felt uncomfortable borrowing such a valuable piece of jewelry. But Rose, in her gracious, gentle way, wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The design was roughly circular, a hand-worked base of different precious metals, studded with chunks of amber and polished gemstones. Staring down at it now in her hand, Meredith still found the composition fascinating, almost magically mesmerizing if one stared at it long enough, with the interplay of glittering jewels of so many different colors, shapes and cuts. The flickering shards of light thrown off from the jewels made Meredith feel almost light-headed and she had to look away to regain her bearings. She had the oddest feeling each time she studied the pin, she noticed. But couldn’t quite understand why.
Brushing the question aside, she slipped the pin into the deep pocket of her skirt, feeling sure it would be safe there. Rose claimed the pin always brought her luck, and Meredith hoped that it would work for her today at her presentation, even hidden away in her pocket.
At work, she always wore a long gray smock over her clothing. It protected her clothes while she worked, constructing samples of her jewelry designs, and conveniently for the modest Meredith, also hid her body. She took it down now from the hook behind her door. The smock was a must today, even for the meeting. Without it, I’d look like a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest, she reflected wryly as she fastened the snaps.
Meredith knew she wasn’t a “babe”—not like some of the women around the office. She was definitely the type men called a “plain Jane.” It had always been that way for her and she doubted now it would ever change. Some women were just born that way. They either had it—or they didn’t. Hadn’t her glamorous mother always told her so, in one subtle way or another? If she looked a little disheveled today, nobody would care. Nobody would notice.
Meredith took a seat at her drawing table and turned her thoughts to more important matters. She flipped the lid off a paper cup of coffee and took out a large project folder. The folder held the sketches for a new line of wedding bands, her current design project. She removed the sketches and spread them out on her drawing table. It was the line she was due to present at eleven o’clock and she still wanted to do some finishing touches. Her co-workers called her a perfectionist, but Meredith had always thought that the real impact of any piece was always in the details. Since it was so difficult for her to speak at meetings, she needed to walk into a presentation feeling that her work was flawless, otherwise her shyness would get the best of her.
As Meredith reviewed the sketches, she felt pleased. She was proud of the “Everlasting Collection” and eager to see what others thought. The his-and-her wedding rings had been solely her idea, and the simple but elegant designs bore her distinctive, contemporary flair. Yet, part of her found it ironic that she was so adept at creating such perfectly stunning wedding rings, when it seemed so unlikely that a man she loved—a faceless stranger so far—would ever slip a gold band on her finger and pledge his everlasting devotion. Her single attempt at romance during her senior year at college had been a total disaster. One that Meredith believed she’d barely survived. If that’s what they called taking a chance on love, Meredith knew she wasn’t fit for the game.
Designing wedding rings or heart-shaped lockets or any of the many trinkets lovers exchanged always left her with a feeling that was bittersweet at best. But she would try to distance herself, to tell herself it was her work and there was no need to get emotional. Then she’d go home, put on her grungiest clothes and head out to her studio. Alone in the empty warehouse space, she’d fire up her blowtorch and fuel all her loneliness and frustration into her artwork—her wild-looking abstract metal sculptures.
Sometimes it was hard for Meredith to believe that she had been working at Colette for four years. Time had passed so quickly. It had been her first job out of college, and though she hadn’t expected to stay this long, she’d already had two promotions and had never once considered looking for work elsewhere, though a few rival firms had tried to recruit her.
She liked the atmosphere here, the way that everyone worked together without a lot of petty rivalry and office politics which she knew went on in other firms. Over the years, she’d made some very good friends within the company, Jayne Pembroke, Lila Maxwell and Sylvie Bennett, to name her three closest pals, who also happened to live in the same apartment building as she did, on Amber Court.
But how long would she—or anyone else on the payroll—be employed by Colette, Inc.? Rumors of a corporate takeover had started as a vague whisper among the rank and file but now ran rampant through the company. Some hotshot financer named Marcus Grey was buying up as much stock as he could get his hands on. The firm’s mysterious predator was moving in for the kill, like a lone wolf poised to strike. The giant jewelry manufacturer had few resources to defend itself. It was now just a waiting game, and morale around the office was at an all-time low.
But like many other employees, Meredith was determined to carry on with an optimistic attitude. That was partly why she was so particular about her work these days. Instead of giving a halfhearted effort, as if the assignments didn’t matter anymore, she pushed herself to give her all, to produce designs that were truly inspired and would remind her co-workers that the company did indeed have a future. And everything might just turn out all right in the end.
She gazed down at the second set of sketches and lifted her pencil to add an extra embellishment. The phone rang just as her pencil point hovered above the drawing.
“Meredith Blair,” she answered in a businesslike tone.
“It’s me,” Jayne Randolph answered in a hushed but urgent tone. “You’re needed down in the showroom for a consultation.”
“The showroom? Do I have to?” Meredith knew she sounded like a five-year-old. But she couldn’t help it. Besides, Jayne was a friend. Surely she’d let her off the hook.
“In a word, yes,” Jayne replied.
“Oh, drat.”
Meredith hated visiting the showroom. She knew she’d rather starve than have a job in sales, catering to the representatives of large accounts and an upmarket, private clientele. Yet, from time to time designers had to go down for consultations with the sales personnel and a client.
A visit to the showroom usually meant that some spoiled, wealthy woman couldn’t find the diamond ring or jewel-studded necklace she had in mind, and now wanted to drive somebody crazy as she tried to describe her jewelry fantasy. Meredith knew that nine times out of ten trying to get it right was an exercise in futility. She doubted that even a mind reader would manage to satisfy such clients. Meredith was much more comfortable hiding away in her studio then being thrust into the limelight.
Besides, if she went down now, she’d never get through
