takeover?” Jayne echoed. “What do you mean a hostile takeover? Why would anyone want to hostilely take over Colette, Inc.? It’s such a nice company.”
“That’s why someone wants to take it over,” Meredith pointed out. “Word has it that someone—and nobody seems to know who—is buying up shares of Colette in an effort to have controlling interest.”
“But that won’t affect us, will it?” Jayne asked hopefully—and probably naively, she couldn’t help thinking.
“Well, there is that pesky business of our jobs,” Sylvie said mildly. “Hostile takeovers have a tendency to lead to downsizing, and downsizing has a tendency to cause unemployment. Oh, but hey, other than that…”
“But…but…but…” Jayne sputtered. Unfortunately she had no idea what to say.
“Look, there’s no need to panic,” Lila said emphatically. “It’s just a rumor.”
But rumors were almost always at least grounded in truth, Jayne thought. And this one was doubtless no different. “What happens if Colette is taken over?” she asked. “Hostilely or not? What will happen to our jobs?”
Jayne was completely ignorant when it came to all things corporate related. Although she genuinely enjoyed her job as a salesclerk, she really wasn’t much interested with the workings of the business as a whole. Her familiarity with Colette, Inc., was limited to the history of the company that was common knowledge in Youngsville, what she’d heard from her neighbor co-workers, and what she’d learned herself in employee training a month ago. About how Abraham Colette, whose family had been in the jewelry business in Paris for generations, came to Youngsville from France in 1902 to start over. About how he married a local girl named Teresa and started his own branch of the company, which soon became known for having the most precious of precious gems in the most exquisite of settings.
Even during the Depression, Colette, Inc., had flourished, thanks to Carl Colette, Abraham and Teresa’s son, who naturally followed in his father’s footsteps, and had had the foresight to bring in investors a decade earlier. As a result, over the years, Colette had become known nationwide, even worldwide, for its unique and elegant pieces, pieces created by only the finest designers and craftspeople.
Which, Jayne thought further, probably went a long way toward explaining this hostile takeover business.
“What will happen to our jobs if someone takes over the company?” she asked again when no one offered a reply—which wasn’t exactly reassuring. “I can’t lose this job,” she said further. “I was lucky to get it in the first place, and that was only because Rose put in a good word for me. I’m not trained to do anything. I’d never find something else that pays as well as this. I need my commissions,” she added, swallowing the hysteria she heard bubbling up in her words. “I have a brother and sister to put through college.”
“Look, everybody, just relax,” Lila said, “it’s only a rumor, okay? There’s no need for us to go off half-cocked. Everything is probably going to be fine.” She glanced down at her watch. “The store’s going to be opening in a half hour, Jayne,” she said. “And you’ve got a lot of employees in here who want to make purchases. You and Amy better get on the stick if you want to open on time this morning.”
“Right,” Jayne said, pushing to the back of her mind for now—well, almost to the back of her mind, anyway—all thoughts of hostile takeovers. “Right,” she said again, steeling herself. Work—an excessive amount of it—was exactly what she needed right now, she told herself. Something to take her mind off just how badly her morning…her week…her month had begun.
It can’t possibly get any worse, she told herself again. And this time she didn’t worry about jinxing herself or offending fate by doing so. Because for the first time in her life Jayne was confident that that was true. Things couldn’t get any worse from here. No way. Whatever else the day ahead held, it was only going to be better.
It would be, she promised herself.
It would.
By mid-afternoon, Erik Randolph wasn’t feeling quite as optimistic about his marital prospects as he had upon waking that morning. For one thing, the gloomy weather, which traditionally boded ill, anyway, had dampened his mood—so to speak. But what had dampened his mood even more was the fact that, astonishingly, of the three women to whom he had proposed marriage so far today, none had accepted his offer. None. Talk about boding ill…
The first of those women had been his sister, Celeste’s, best friend, Marianne, who was enjoying a few days with Celeste at the Randolph estate before returning to graduate school. Erik had known her for years, of course, and rather liked her, even if he didn’t know her all that well. Still, he had thought it reasonable that she might warm to his offer of marriage, however temporary, because Celeste had confided to him recently that Marianne had a huge crush on him.
Well, all right, so maybe Celeste’s revelation hadn’t been all that recent. Maybe it had been more than a decade ago, when Marianne was eleven, but that was beside the point. Erik had still been surprised when she declined, citing a desire to return to her studies. Her tuition for the fall semester, she had explained, had already been paid in full.
Fine, then, Erik had thought. On to prospect number two: Diana, the daughter of the Randolphs’ housekeeper, Mrs. Martin. Erik had known Diana for ages, too, seeing as how Mr. and Mrs. Martin had come to work for his family when he was still in high school. But for some reason Diana hadn’t seemed to think Erik was serious about his offer of marriage, had simply giggled riotously when he’d outlined his proposal, and had kept giggling no matter how hard he had insisted that he was, in fact, quite serious. Finally, wiping tears from her eyes—and still giggling—Diana had declined, thanked him, anyway, and headed off to work. He had heard her giggling all the way down the hall.
Erik’s third rejection had come only moments ago, from the waitress at Crystal’s on Marion Street, an upscale eatery that claimed one of Indiana’s only Cordon Bleu trained chefs. And although said waitress hadn’t seemed to take his suggestion quite as lightly as the other women had, she had ultimately declined due to a previous engagement—literally. She’d told Erik she felt obliged to marry her fiancé the following month.
Nevertheless, he held firm in his conviction that his search for a wife would pan out—today. He was even so sure of that, that he had dressed in his best suit, a Hugo Boss charcoal pinstripe, and a Valentino silk necktie with an elegant geometric design, knowing that such an outfit would make an impression. Now, as he approached Colette Jewelry, Erik felt more than optimistic that he was on the right track. Finding a wife with whom he could enjoy wedded bliss for a full year, he was certain, would be a piece of wedding cake.
The whimsical thought made him smile as he pushed open the door to Colette Jewelry and strode into the main showroom. He’d been in the store many times over the years, of course, to purchase baubles for his feminine companions. But where he normally turned left, toward the specialty pieces, now Erik went right, toward the wedding and engagement displays. As he strode in that direction, he overheard two women chatting, and glanced up to see that two of Colette’s salesclerks were busily rearranging one of the wedding-and-engagement showcases.
Perfect, he thought. Whatever new inventory the women were putting out, that was what he wanted. He was known for being on the cutting edge of, well, just about everything. So if there was something new happening in engagement rings, Erik Randolph wanted to know about it.
The two salesclerks had their heads bowed in soft conversation, he noted as he drew nearer, presumably about the display they were in the process
