Caught Up in Us (22 page)

“I did. It was a great
trip.”

“Fantastic. And how is everything
going this semester with Made Here? We only have a few more weeks
left, but the reports have been good, so I’m pleased.”

I gathered up all my courage. My
shoulders rose and fell, and then I started. “I wanted to let you
know that during the course of the semester and the time with Made
Here, I have fallen in love with Bryan Leighton. Well, I suppose
you could say I’ve fallen in deeper with him because I was already
in love with him five years ago and didn’t stop.”

Professor Oliver looked at me
quizzically and narrowed his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. I don’t
understand.”

I steeled myself to say the words
without tripping on them. I was clinical and business-like as I
laid my confession bare. “I was involved with him when I was
younger, and I’m also involved with him now. I could tell you that
we tried to stop. That we tried to deny it. That we tried not to
see each other. That we tried to wait until the mentorship was
over. I could tell you how important this class is to me. I could
tell you how badly I want to graduate. I could tell you how much
Bryan values his company’s relationship with the school. Those
would all be true. But what’s also true is that I broke your rule
about being involved with your mentor. And because of that I don’t
think he should be my mentor anymore.”

He nodded several times with
pursed lips that formed a scowl. “I see.”

He picked up a pencil from his
desk and began twirling it. Thumb to forefinger. Thumb to
forefinger. Again and again. After several perfectly executed
twirls, he put the pencil down, and looked at me.

“It would seem you have a problem
then, Ms. Harper. You no longer have a mentor. Without a mentor,
you cannot pass this class. Without this class, you cannot
graduate.”

*****

Claire adored my designs. They
exceeded her expectations, she declared over espresso and chocolate
biscuits. But her admiration felt like a Pyrrhic victory. She’d
detailed the conditions of her investment, and I’d made a conscious
choice to violate them. I wouldn’t be able to finish my degree, and
that broke the deal.

She held up the slim silver chain
with the vintage key on it, shaking her head with pride. We were at
a cafe on the Upper East Side. “This? Yes. I can tell you right now
Elizabeth’s will carry it.”

I gave her a curious look. How
could she make such a guarantee? But it didn’t matter. She could
say all she wanted about Elizabeth’s, but she’d be taking it all
back when I broke the news.

“I’m glad you
like it. Really, truly, I am. But there’s a problem,” I said and
then told her everything, including how her husband had the no
hanky-panky
warning
posted on his Web site.

She cackled when she heard that.
“I had no idea. Really? It says no hanky panky?”

I grabbed my phone, and tapped in
his URL, showing her the screen.

She laughed even harder. “He’s one
to talk.”

“What do you
mean?”

“I was his student. He’s such a
hypocrite.”

“Really???”

Even as my future with her circled
the drain, I couldn’t help but join her in peals of laughter that
echoed around the cafe. The couple at the table next to us peered
over.

“You were his student?”

“Yes. I wasn’t even his protege. I
was his actual student fifteen years ago when I went to NYU, and he
was teaching management skills. Some management skills. He fell in
love with his student while he was teaching her. For him to post
that about no hanky panky is incredibly amusing. But those are his
rules. And I respect them. And you must abide.”

I nodded, a heaviness in my chest.
I would have liked doing business with her, but I would have to go
it alone. I’d have to start over in my quest to help my parents. I
pushed my chair away from the table, stood up, and offered her a
hand to shake.

She waved me off. “This is what
you’ve learned at business school? This is what you’ve learned from
me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to give
up?”

“You made your stipulations pretty
clear, Mrs. Oliver. And I respect them. I am so, so grateful that
you were willing to take a chance on me, and my work, but I let you
down. I’m not going to be able to finish this class. Or work with
you.”

She pointed to my chair. “Sit back
down.”

Her voice was commanding,
imperious even. I immediately followed her order.

“In business school, did you learn
that there is more than one way to solve a business
problem?”

“Sure.”

“And would you say you have a
business problem?”

“I suppose you could say
that.”

“Then, think about another way
around this. Think about what you need, truly need, to finish your
experiential learning class.”

I needed a rewind button. I needed
to have better tunnel vision. I needed to have
self-restraint.

She kept speaking. “You need a
mentor.” She waved a bejeweled hand airily. I bet she could cut the
glass door off in seconds with the size of that ring.

“But that’s the problem, Mrs.
Oliver. I don’t have a mentor anymore.”

She gestured to herself. “Am I
chopped liver?”

I flinched from surprise. “What?”
It came out like a stutter.

“I’d like to think I’ve been
somewhat instrumental in your hands-on business learning this
semester.”

I leaned forward, still not sure
if she was truly serious, or if I could even pull this off. The
class called for us to be paired with business leaders who ran
actual companies. She seemed more of a benefactor, a generous angel
investor. “You would do that, Mrs. Oliver? I mean,
Claire.”

She took a sip of her espresso.
“You call me Claire. But I have another name as well. I don’t go by
it often, and I don’t really let many people know my other name.
But the reason I am sure we can get these designs into Elizabeth’s
stores is because I am Elizabeth Mortimer, and as the head of
Elizabeth’s I would be delighted to finish out the semester as your
mentor.”

Fairy godmother, I’d
say.

*****

I raced back to NYU. The cab
pulled up to the curb and I thrust several dollars in the driver’s
hand, and pushed hard on the door. I ran up the marble steps to
Professor Oliver’s office. He had office hours now, and was
finishing up with another student.

I paced as I waited for the guy to
leave. I reviewed my speech in my head, still marveling that Claire
Oliver was Elizabeth Mortimer, head of the luxury department store
chain that wanted to carry my designs. There was only one obstacle
in the way — her husband.

The other student left, and I
rushed to the door, then knocked.

“Hello again, Ms.
Harper.”

He gestured to the same chair I’d
sat in hours ago.

“If you’ve come to convince me to
bend the rules, I should warn you, I’m not known for my mercy.” He
spoke the last words with a smile on his face, but he was deadly
serious. His kind manner could never be mistaken for
leniency.

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t ask
you to do that. Instead, I wanted to present a different solution.
You said I needed a mentor to pass this class. Mentors are business
leaders who are alumni. I don’t have one now, but I’ve been working
closely this semester with a businesswoman named Elizabeth
Mortimer. You might know her. She runs the Elizabeth’s stores. And
via that relationship, I have gained two rounds of seed funding, an
investment to fund design research, and a distribution deal in
those department stores. Ms. Mortimer has guided me on design
stylings, as well as offering insight into the best direction for
my business.”

“Elizabeth Mortimer, you say?” He
seemed amused.

“Yes. She is a very sharp
businesswoman.”

“So I’ve heard. And it sounds like
she has indeed been influential in your growth and development, Ms.
Harper. But part of the requirement for the class is that the
proteges help the business leaders solve real-world business
challenges. How have you done that?” His normally chipper voice was
laced with skepticism.

I thought of the
conversation a few weeks ago when Claire, aka Elizabeth, had first
presented the opportunity. “The Elizabeth’s stores need a jewelry
line to focus their holiday marketing around. Elizabeth had been
looking for a new style to draw attention. She loved the designs I
brought back from Paris. I’ve also been able to line up a
manufacturing partner to have them made in time. It’ll be a fast
turnaround, but we can pull it off, and with her marketing and with
my manufacturer’s savvy, I think we will have solved not only
business problems, but provided an answer to the age-old question
at holiday time —
what do I buy for the
woman I love
?”

Professor Oliver pursed his lips
and nodded a few times. “And Ms. Mortimer is open to
this?”

I found it odd that we were
discussing Ms. Mortimer as if she were not his wife. I supposed
that was part and parcel of her veiled identity though. She wanted
to be both Mrs. Claire Oliver and Ms. Elizabeth
Mortimer.

“Yes. She would be willing to step
in officially as my mentor for the rest of the term. So I will have
Bryan Leighton for the first few months, and Ms. Mortimer to finish
out the term. And, to be quite honest, that seems rather fitting
for my business. Both have helped me tremendously to grow and
expand My Favorite Mistakes. And I have, in turn, helped both of
their businesses, as you know from the reports.”

He removed his
glasses, picked up a white cloth from his desk, and cleaned the
lenses. When the glasses were free of fingerprints, he put them
back on. “Ms. Harper, has anyone ever told you that you’re not too
shabby at negotiation?” He cracked a grin, and extended his hand.
“Welcome back. I trust there will be no
hanky-panky
with Ms. Mortimer as you
finish out the term?”

“None, sir.”

“Good. I do have a suggestion now
for your business. Perhaps it’s time to move beyond the name My
Favorite Mistakes since your business is moving beyond that
idea.”

“What do you think would be a good
name?”

“Seeing as I suspect you have a
rather bright future in front of you as a jewelry designer, I would
suggest a simple name. I would suggest your name. That is what all
the fashion icons do. I think your customers will soon want to give
and to wear Kat Harper necklaces.”

I smiled. “It has a nice ring to
it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Close your eyes.”

Bryan pressed his palms over my
eyes as we reached the block with my parent’s store.

“Maybe you’d like to blindfold
me?”

“I’ll do that later, don’t you
worry.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried.”

“Just keep them
closed.”

“Since your hands are covering
them, it’s safe to say I can’t see a thing. So don’t let me
trip.”

“I
won’t.”

He guided me along the sidewalk. I
smelled the sea air, and it reminded me of long, lazy summer days
here in Mystic. It reminded me of summer nights years ago falling
in love. Right now with December upon us, the air smelled of pine
and freshly falling snow. A few flakes drifted down from the
darkening afternoon sky, promising a night by a warm fire and
blankets of white in the morning.

I graduated two days ago. There
was little fanfare, as is the custom with a business school
graduation. I simply finished my exams, checked my grades online,
and verified that I had, in fact, attained my MBA. The first person
I called was Claire, who I now thought of as a super hero with a
secret identity. She congratulated me and informed me that my
necklaces were faring well the first week in her stores. The My
Favorite Mistakes line was still selling online and in boutiques,
but the Elizabeth’s customers favored my simpler styles. Rather
than a star, a key and a sunburst jammed on one necklace, they were
opting for single pendants, and embracing the European look of the
charms, thanks to where I’d found them — the markets of Paris. Of
course, there were shoppers too with quirkier taste, and for those
the cat and dog charms appealed. Still others with a vintage flare
liked the cameos and brooches. “Be charmed with a Kat Harper
necklace,” Claire pronounced. “That’s the tagline.”

I’d have to remember to thank my
parents for giving me a name that lent itself so well to jewelry,
especially since I was starting to make real money from my work. I
planned to pay off their loan in a few weeks from the
revenue.

“Almost there.”

I held my hands in front of me,
purple mittens keeping me warm. We passed the cafe. I could hear
the bell on the door jingle when someone came out, and the
tell-tale scent of coffee trailed behind.