“By all means,” he said, waving to her.
Turning to Griffin, she said, “I’m glad you decided to take me up on my invitation. Although,” she shrugged, “you really didn’t have a choice, did you?” She didn’t let him answer, but her smile took the sting out of her admission on forcing his hand. “I don’t play dirty.”
I do when it comes to your stepmother.
“But I do know what I want and I do try to get it, in business, at least,” she amended. “For all intents and purposes, I’ve been a workaholic for decades now. I’ve lived and breathed King’s Department Store all my life, something I suppose I inherited from my father.”
That much he did gather in all his files on the family. “Admirable.”
“And what did you inherit from your father?” Her question came out of the blue, hitting him in the solar plexus.
“Tenacity,” he bit out. Inwardly, he corrected it to revenge. His drunken father had left him that legacy, hatred of Agnes King. It had served Griff well.
“Interesting,” she said. “That’s how you rose through the ranks.” At his nod, she continued, “Marcus has helped me these last few months, but, as you know, he’s ready to start a new life.”
Griffin turned to the man. “I understand you just sold your corporation.” That news had been intriguing, but not more so than his new path.
“I’m going back to my roots. Stu,” he nodded to the other room, “and I are partners in a pub and grill. I’m eager to begin renovations in a few weeks. King’s should be finished with the salon’s remodel by then. Sorry, the new Charmings Beauty Bar, as Priscilla says.”
At the mention of her, Griff’s antenna went up. “Beauty Bar?”
“It’s more of an all-in-one stop for ladies, a spa-like atmosphere,” Charlie said. “We pamper them. Priscilla came up with Pamper Parties; usually a group of friends book us for a special girls’ night. We give them the works—hair, nails, skin, makeup, refreshments—and we bring in a stylist and put together certain looks for them or a special outfit. Our most popular at the moment is The Bridal Pamper Party.”
“Have you seen the website recently?” Marcus asked. “Priscilla also came up with the concept of the different hairstyles, cuts, colors. Just upload a picture of yourself and try on whatever you like. Of course, they make an appointment online and send us their choice. Also, as an added bonus, while they’re in the salon, we offer a complimentary makeup session. We’ve been booked solid for the last few weeks. It’s been such a hit, we’re bringing the feature for clothes into our women’s department.”
Griff sat up, fascinated. “You mean they can access any style from the comfort of their home just by inserting a picture of themselves? I thought that technology was just in the development stage.”
“And they’ll be able to order the item online, free shipping,” Priscilla added as she came into the area and sat on the arm of Marcus’ chair. She rested her forearm on her brother-in-law’s shoulder. “I heard my name,” she admitted, raising an eyebrow at Griff, daring him to say she didn’t belong there.
“Interesting,” he murmured, admiring her business savvy. Nodding to her, he said, “Well done.”
A blush crept up her neck. “Thanks.” She’d changed into a soft yellow sweater with what he knew were boyfriend jeans, rolled up at the hem. Barefoot, her bright pink painted toenails caught his attention. But it was the sweater he lingered on. It should be illegal for her to wear it. He longed to kiss her in the scoop where a hint of flesh teased him, and then he yearned to trail his lips… He stopped himself.
“Priscilla’s been a surprise designer,” Marcus said. “She has potential. She took the men’s department by storm when she first started out.”
“We couldn’t keep the styles she created for the mannequins on the shelves,” Charlie added. “She’s helped with the window displays, also. More sales for those items.”
“After the beauty bar is complete, we want to utilize Priscilla’s talents more,” Marcus said. “We’re not certain where, though.”
“I’m sure she’ll succeed at whatever she does.” He meant it. Her curiosity and determination would take her far.
This time her blush reached her cheeks. “I don’t have the best track record.”
He raised his eyebrows at her admission.
“In the beginning…” She cringed. “I ditched shifts. Luckily, Francie covered for me. I moved to the salon, signed up for night classes for beauty school, ah, didn’t like it, so I quit. Then, on a fluke, Rico and I took a design class.” She beamed now.