“First . . .” Liza held up a manicured finger, and Harper held her breath.
Here come the negotiations. Liza hadn’t become one of the most powerful momtrepreneurs by playing nice. She had markers out all around town, and now she was calling in Harper’s two seconds after she’d doled one out.
“For Whining, Dining, and Diapers, I need to get sole credit for handling all of the marketing and PR for this event.”
“Are you offering to handle all of the marketing and PR?”
Liza snorted. “Lord, no. I’m too busy to handle all of that, but if I’m going to bring in the mommy demographic, then I want to put that on my site when I cover the event for my next post, ‘Goodwill Makes for a Good Jack and Jill.’”
“I have equal access to the mommy demographic,” Harper pointed out.
“You teach finger painting to kids,” Liza corrected.
This was not the first time Harper had heard this, and as long as she was spending her days teaching kids’ art classes, it wouldn’t be the last. Not that Harper didn’t like teaching—she loved it. But she also loved creating her own designs, and she missed combining bold colors with varying textures and light to make sets and displays that came to life. It was one of the reasons she was putting her heart and soul into saving her grandmother’s account. Aside from helping Clovis, of course, Harper was loving the artistic process and getting back to her own roots.
At one time she was considered an up-and-coming set and window designer. She’d started making a name for herself as a live artist who told her stories through people and everyday pieces of furniture, fabrics, and paint.
But there wasn’t really a market for her kind of talent in St. Helena. Besides the Boulder Holder and the Fashion Flower, there wasn’t another clothing shop in town with a big enough window for her to work with. But St. Helena was the only home she’d ever known, and every person in her patchwork family lived there. And that was what was important.
After a lifetime of watching her mother put her art before matters of the heart, Harper knew she wanted a different life. She valued things like connections, security, and love above all else.
“That may be, but giving one person sole credit when there will be so many people helping out doesn’t seem fair.”
Plus, she wasn’t sure what Adam would say to that. Or the department, for that matter. She didn’t mind if Liza capitalized on the event, but she didn’t want to diminish other people’s hard work.
Liza looked at her as if she were slow, and maybe she was. Maybe that was why she was still folding ruffled bloomers instead of pursuing her passion for visual arts. Then again, she didn’t hate her job, but she’d hate herself if she bulldozed over people.
“Well, other people wouldn’t be able to get Vintage Elementary to send out flyers offering extra credit to every student who participates in the event. They also couldn’t get every mommy blogger in Northern California to get on board with a grassroots marketing effort to ensure that parents all over the greater wine country know that this is the family event of the summer.”
Harper was pretty sure, if given the time, she could do the same. But she didn’t have the time. And she’d promised Adam she’d help.
“What’s the second requirement?” Harper asked, and immediately Liza’s face went flush.
“This one is actually a favor.” The woman who was always cool and collected—a Stepford in every sense of the word, sans the wife part—smoothed down the hem of her skirt and self-consciously looked around. “I need advice on picking out something sexy.”
“For Brooklyn?” Because ruffled bloomers was as sexy as the Fashion Flower got.
“For me.” Liza lowered her voice, even though the shop was nearing closing time and there wasn’t another soul in the store besides the two of them. “I’m stopping by the Boulder Holder on my way home, to pick something up. And I needed your advice first.”
Now it was Harper’s turn to flush. “You need my advice?”
“I have a date tonight. A real date. Time with a man who isn’t my brother, father, or elderly relative.” She shook her head. “God, I haven’t been on a first date since I married Brooklyn’s dad, and even then I think he took me to his favorite college pub with his dorm mates.” Liza laughed, a little self-conscious, a little bitter, and a whole lot sad. “Pathetic, right?”
“No,” Harper said, placing her hand on Liza’s. “I think it’s a real situation for more women than you’d think. And wearing pretty lingerie makes us feel sexy, and everyone wants to feel sexy when they go on a first date. It’s not pathetic at all.”