Lovers (11 page)

“And what’s your latest problem?” Gigi asked.

“I’m going to have to foreclose on my first tenants, the Muller family. My company is a landlord as well as a builder, and sometimes the landlord part gets painful. Kids’ Paradise is a chain of toy stores that is about to be put out of business by the spread of Toys “ ” Us—they can’t match Toys’ rock-bottom discount prices, and the merchandise is basically identical. I have a Kids’ Paradise in almost every one of my malls and I’m friends with their management, but they haven’t been able to pay the rent, not for months.”

“How many Paradises does that make?”

“A hundred and two. I own seventy-three malls, and they have stores that aren’t in malls as well.”

“Seventy-three! The mall-master!”

“I cover the country—and it’s a lot of country. I make it a point to build as close as I can to highly prosperous areas so that our tenants do upscale business and I get upscale rents.”

“Where are you building in L.A.?” Gigi asked. Ben Winthrop’s eyes seemed frank and undefended. Nevertheless, they revealed nothing he didn’t intend them to show, she thought. He reminded her of basketball coaches in TV close-ups during the playoffs. When their “game faces” were firmly in place, the camera couldn’t get the slightest hint from the coaches of how upset or pleased they were with the performance of their teams, not even after the game was over. They had to make themselves into charlatans in order to remain authentic.

“Right now we’re in construction in Santa Monica, Culver
City, and Encino. Then I’ll spread up north and down south, on land I’ve already bought.”

“It sounds like an invasion,” Gigi said with a low whistle. “Did you bring the pods with you? Are you friendly tous natives, or are we merely a species you plan on observing from afar, the playthings of the gods?”

“It all depends on the status of your credit cards.”

“You come from Planet Visa?”

“Precisely.”

“How crass!”

“And I thought you were in advertising.”

“Only for the last two days,” she protested. “I haven’t learned to be a hard-hearted businessman like you. Foreclosing on something called Kids’ Paradise, and you actually admit it!”

“Told you I was honest. Business is business, eventually, no matter how you hate to do certain things. Look, you should see the renderings of the elevations of my mall in Santa Monica—it’s truly beautiful. The city gave me permission to buy the land and the permits to build because it’s architecturally outstanding. Let me show them to you, let me redeem my reputation.”

“I couldn’t make time tomorrow to look at a long-lost folio of da Vinci drawings—it’s back to Indigo Seas and the abundant woman, all day, all night, if necessary.”

“It’ll just take ten minutes, now, not tomorrow. I have them in my suite … here.”

“Well, why the hell did you let me think you didn’t know how to get to the hotel?” Gigi asked indignantly. “You want to redeem your reputation, you claim to be an honest man, and you didn’t tell me you were staying here? Ha!”

“You looked as if you were leading a cavalry charge into the wilderness—I simply enjoyed watching you, I like your style, I admire a spirited female, is that a crime?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, unimpressed.

“Please?”

“Oh, all right. But only because I claimed you as
cousin-once-removed. I was overly impulsive, I see that clearly now, but I owe you the benefit of the doubt.”

“I’m honestly impressed,” Gigi said, after she’d taken a long look at the architect’s drawings. “As malls go, this must be as good as it gets. But I guess there won’t be a toy store in it.”

“It looks that way, unless Toys “ ” Us moves in, and with our high rents that’s not likely.”

Gigi got up from her seat near the coffee table and began to pace slowly around the large sitting room of Ben’s suite, a room that breathed luxury in twenty-five shades of terra-cotta.

“Did Kids’ Paradise ever advertise?” she asked.

“Locally, but not much.”

“Hmm. Listen, Ben, I had to go to five baby showers in the last six months—one of them for Billy, one for Sasha, three for Spider’s sisters. The guests were all women with money, from comfortable to rich, the kind who live near your malls. And I have
never
in my life seen such presents!”

As she spoke, she walked faster and faster, shaking her head at the memory of the excessive baby showers.

“I didn’t know such absolutely gorgeous baby clothes existed, and all the equally special outfits for when the baby stuff is outgrown—then there was a slew of really expensive toys and things that are more for the mother to enjoy than for kids to use or play with, like antique crib quilts, antique children’s chairs, music boxes, old doll’s tea sets.”

Gigi stopped walking and turned to him.

“Ben, listen, here’s my point. After the presents are opened, the guests invariably start comparing notes on how impossible it is to find something special for these showers, how much harder it is than finding things for a bridal shower. These occasions are more and more frequent with so many women having babies and lots of them having them later in life.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re leading me into a trap?”

“Because I am. Just listen. Baby-shower guests are feeling the pressure to one-up each other with everyone watching as the guest of honor opens each gift. It’s obscene! Take me, for example. Once I spent hours looking for something really great to give Sasha. I was desperate. Finally I found a bookstore in the Valley that specializes in old children’s books.… I bought out their stock, every Oz book, every Beatrix Potter, every Hardy Boy, every Nancy Drew … I gave Sasha a first edition of
Glinda the Good
, and now I’m set for years of parties and I’m keeping my source a secret so that no one copies me.”

“Gigi, your altruistic impulses are impressive. But could you get to the point here?”

“Have I got your attention? Good. Okay, I realize I live in a community where everything is bigger than life, but doesn’t it make sense that this baby-present mania has spread to
all
the expensive suburbs, in a less dramatic way no doubt, but you know that trends start here first. Shaker Heights? Oak Forest? Brookline? La Jolla? The Main Line? You know. Doesn’t that mean that there’s a need for a store that sells
nothing but
upscale children’s things,
especially to grandparents?”
Gigi had stopped pacing and was standing in the middle of the room, her hands spread eloquently.

“Grandparents?”

“God, you’re such a dumb bachelor, Ben! Grandparents give the world’s most ridiculously expensive presents, because they had to hold back and try not to spoil their own kids, but now all bets are off. Plus one set of grandparents is always viciously competitive with the other set.”

“I still don’t see it,” he said skeptically, drawing her out. Bachelor or not, Ben Winthrop spent many thousands of dollars every year on suitably impressive presents to the newborn babes his cousins were producing at a constant rate, as well as on presents to the many godchildren who had been foisted on him by his Harvard classmates. Birthdays
seemed to come around on an almost weekly basis, and Christmas was a nightmare. One of his secretaries was permanently detailed to keep on top of the children’s gift situation and she complained about its difficulty.

“I want to change Kids’ Paradise, make it into a Scruples for kids’ gifts. Call it, oh … oh … The Enchanted Attic, yeah, that’s
it!—The Enchanted Attic—
redecorate to fit the name, turn their entire merchandising policy upside down, bring in a line of fabulous gift wrappings—the right wrapping is essential, the box has to be a signature box—make it
the
place to find the best, most exciting, and original presents, the Tiffany of toy stores, plus kids’ antiques and clothing the department stores don’t have, and a great line of specially designed smaller gifts, like Tiffany’s baby teething rings, for example, for people who want to spend less and still buy status and—”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ben said expressionlessly. He did know, he’d known from the minute she’d said “Scruples for kids” that this idea was a natural, a potential gold mine, his kind of investment, for his malls were located in precisely the communities where such shops would flourish.

“Why the hell not?” Gigi put her hands on her hips and looked at him challengingly. “Give me one good reason. Aren’t you supposed to be a visionary?”

“You talk fast, lady, but making it happen would take a major infusion of capital.”

“I think capital is less of a problem than location. If you let the Kids’ Paradise people, the Mullers, stay put until they change over, they won’t go belly-up and—”

“What’s in it for you?” he demanded.

“But isn’t that obvious? They’d absolutely
have
to advertise. That would be an essential part of the deal. The Enchanted Attic would have to become a client of FRB and I’d bring in a piece of new business.”

“That’s all you want? You’re sure?”

“I never want to go back to retailing, thank you very much, but I just bet Billy—it’s right down her alley—might be—”

Ben pounced before she could complete that thought. “Stop right there, Gigi, I never work with partners.”

“Say that again.”

“I never work with partners. I enjoy gambling now and then, so I’ll put up the capital myself, refrain from foreclosing, defer the rent for as long as necessary, and hire a retailing expert to work with the Kids’ Paradise people.”

“Oh, oh, oh …!”

“Why are you wailing like that?”

“You’re going too fast! Wait just one hell of a little minute here! You didn’t say anything about an advertising budget. No advertising, no Enchanted Attic.”

“What sort of budget did you have in mind?” If he hadn’t had a lifetime of practice in keeping a straight face, he’d have had to smile at her naiveté.

“Well. Hmmmm … we’re pitching a seven-million-dollar account just to try to sell one brand of swimsuits to one type of woman, not all of whom swim … and here we’re talking an
explosion
of kids … upper-income kids, right up to preteen, all of whom have birthdays and Christmas … let me think … to make a dent with a chain of a hundred and two stores … I’d imagine,” Gigi said, guessing wildly, “you’d need lots more than that for print advertising to establish the client’s identity. After all, Indigo Seas already has an identity, and The Enchanted Attic doesn’t. Oh, absolutely
more
. You’d want national print in the glossy magazines and local print in the city magazines and then you couldn’t possibly leave out the parents’ magazines or the women’s magazines … I’m not even thinking about TV … say twelve million the first year.” She held her breath.

“I’d say … eight. Until the metamorphosis is complete, the ads will be less than full-throttle.”

“But, Ben, it pays to advertise.”

“At the end of the year, I’ll reevaluate.”

“I don’t know,” said Gigi, and stopped.

“Go on, say what’s on your mind,” he urged, laughing. “It’s not as if you won’t eventually.”

“I don’t know, as the saying goes, whether to shit or go blind.
YIPPEE!”
She collapsed on the sofa, hugging herself in delight waving her boots in the air. “Wait a minute,” she said in the middle of her transports. “You won’t change your mind, will you? Is this a done deal or isn’t it? Shake hands on it,” she demanded.

“It’s a deal, here, let’s shake.” She might still ask for a percentage of the profit, since it was her idea, even after they shook on the deal, Ben Winthrop thought, or Billy or Spider might advise her to ask for it, and he’d be obligated to go along. But why worry now? After all, he could be wrong and The Enchanted Attic might not pan out. Worst case, he’d have a loss against his pre-tax profits.

“Let’s have a drink to celebrate,” he suggested.

“Oh. No, I really have to get home. I had no idea it was so late.”

“I’ll walk you to the valet parker.”

Ben’s suite was at a good distance from the entrance to the hotel, and they walked through dimly lit pathways bordered by the lavish displays of flowers for which the hotel was famous, which linked a series of mysterious dark courtyards in which fountains played. As they entered the last courtyard, both lost in thought, Ben stopped and drew Gigi close to him. She looked up in surprise and saw him smiling down at her.

“Sweet cousin-once-removed, you’re quite a revelation,” he said, and bent over and kissed her hand, his long mouth, even in that quick moment, quickly possessive, his lips pressing hers with an unmistakable potential for passion. Gigi’s entire body stiffened in instant resistance. He released her immediately so that she didn’t need to draw away.
Mistake
, he thought, furious at himself,
big mistake
. What had come over him to make such an obviously premature misjudgment? She had entranced him tonight, but that was no excuse for his stupidity. He never jumped the gun, damn it! It wouldn’t happen again, he promised himself in a cold rage of pride.

“I’d like to see the agency,” Ben said, in an impersonal tone, as if nothing had happened. “When’s a good time?”

“I’ll have to tell them first.” Gigi matched his cool. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Will you call tomorrow and let me know? I’ll be back here by six.”

“Absolutely,” she said, moving as quickly as she could toward the lobby lights, where the darkness of the pathways of the hotel disappeared.

As Gigi drove off, Ben walked slowly back to his suite, still thinking about Gigi’s reaction to his kiss. Yes, of course he had chosen an inappropriate moment, but her reaction seemed excessive. Was she gun-shy? Was she taken? One thing he was sure of, there was nothing specifically personal about it. He was sure she liked him, or he would never have touched her. She was a puzzle, Miss Gigi Orsini, and one day he would solve that puzzle, he promised himself. But he would do it with such patience, with such cunning, with such invisible planning, that she would come to him of her own accord. He owed himself that for her resistance, for her stiffening at the touch of his mouth. No woman had ever reacted in that way before.