“Zoe, how nice of you to join us,” she said, glancing over shoulder. “I hope my weekly staff meeting isn’t interrupting your very busy schedule.”
Her cheeks warmed and her stomach churned. Embarrassed that her boss was taking her to task in front of her colleagues, Zoe wore an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m late Aurora, but I was in a—”
The designer spun around, startling her, and Zoe broke off speaking.
“Save it for someone who cares. We have work to do, and lots of it.”
Feeling her mouth drop open, she stared at her boss with wide eyes. Aurora never raised her voice, let alone yelled at her, so Zoe was shocked by her tone. The designer wasn’t just her boss, she was also a good friend, and her stinging retort hurt her feelings.
Aurora fussed with her multicolored scarf. Petite, with a brown pixie cut, olive skin and a slender frame, she had perfect posture and impeccable manners. “Zoe, I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Sniffing, she dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “The last few weeks have been a nightmare...”
Her voice faltered, and she couldn’t finish her thought.
Zoe straightened in her chair, tried to make sense of what was going on with her boss. Was Aurora having a mental breakdown? she wondered, scrutinizing the designer’s appearance. Dark lines rimmed her eyes, but her black A-line dress complemented her shape, and the leopard-print heels she wore elongated her legs. Were the late nights, and early mornings, finally getting to her? Was she so overwhelmed with stress and fatigue she couldn’t function?
Rising from his leather chair at the head of the table, Davide stood behind his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Casa Di Moda is in trouble, and we need your help.”
“What are you saying?” a graphic designer asked. “Is the company broke?”
Davide spoke in a solemn tone of voice. “No, but if we don’t turn things around in the next three months, we’ll have no choice but to file for bankruptcy.”
The room was so quiet, Zoe could hear her heart beating inside her chest. Was this a joke? A trick? She wondered if the powerhouse couple were pulling her leg, and studied their faces for clues. They looked serious, sounded serious, too, but Casa Di Moda couldn’t be in financial trouble. The line was popular; celebrities wore their designs to award shows, movie premieres and industry events. They’d recently landed a multiyear contract with an international film company to design costumes.
“That’s impossible,” Jiovanni argued, his short black curls flopping around his face. “We signed several deals this year, and high-end boutiques in Montreal, Dubai and Paris are chomping at the bit to carry our gowns as well.”
Jiovanni had a fun-loving personality, an outrageous sense of humor and an infectious laugh. He loved fine wine, Italian rap music, and had a different woman on his arm every week. He liked to joke about marrying her one day, but he was the big brother Zoe never had, and she’d never ruin their friendship by getting involved romantically with him.
“The film company backed out of the deal weeks ago, but we didn’t know how to tell you.” Davide wore a sad smile. “You worked hard on the presentation, and we didn’t want to disappoint you, especially after everything you’ve done over the years to help the line succeed.”
“How could this happen? We’ve given our blood, sweat and tears to this company for years, and now we have nothing to show for it,” grumbled the creative director.
“Casa Di Moda isn’t the only company feeling the pinch,” Aurora said. “People aren’t splurging on designer labels like they used to, and according to official figures, clothing, shoes and jewelry fell another eighteen percent over the last nine months.”
“Households are under increasing pressure as they wrestle with rising living costs,” Davide added. “There’s a lot of fear and uncertainty in the world right now. Consumers are being very conservative with their money, even the rich and famous.”
Staff members grumbled and complained, bombarding Aurora and Davide with questions and concerns. Zoe couldn’t speak. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Aurora and Davide. They had big hearts, and she admired their tireless work ethic. Married for over a decade, the couple had no children, but referred to Casa Di Moda as their baby and treated everyone at the company like family. It was hard to listen to her colleagues bash them, but every time Zoe tried to come to the couple’s defense, someone interrupted her.
“Everyone, please settle down. I’m still the boss, and I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior at my company. If you can’t be respectful, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Silence fell across the room as Aurora spoke, but tension and anger polluted the air.
“It will be business as usual around here during the holidays, but Davide and I will be away from the office a fair bit, so we’ll need all of you to hold the fort while we’re aggressively seeking new investors who’ll help us take Casa Di Moda to the next level.”
An associate designer raised her hand. “Are you planning to file for bankruptcy in the new year? Should we be looking for other jobs?”
Aurora stared down at the beige carpet, as if the answer to the question were written there. “I don’t know,” she said in a quiet tone of voice.
“Let’s not dwell on the negative.” Davide wore a broad smile. “Tonight’s the premiere of Amore in Tuscany, and we expect to see all of you at Anteo spazioCinema. You can’t get in the theater without your VIP pass, so guard it with your life.”
For weeks, Zoe had been looking forward to the movie premiere, but Aurora and Davide’s announcement had soured her mood. Casa Di Moda collaborated with several European directors to design movie sets and costumes, and the success of the film could mean more business for the company. Since Zoe wanted to see the fashion house succeed, she’d post about the event again on her social media pages once she got to her office.
“One last thing,” Aurora said, raising an index finger in the air. “If you have any ideas on how to help us turn things around and increase sales, please don’t hesitate to share them with us. Speak up. We want to hear from you.”
“I know a surefire way to boost sales and increase our popularity as well.”
Everyone in the room cranked their heads in Zoe’s direction but she wasn’t at all intimidated. She had this. Knew what she was talking about. Had the numbers to support her argument. And she was excited to share her knowledge with her colleagues.
“You do?” Interest sparked in Davide’s eyes.
“Well, don’t keep us in the dark.” Aurora spoke in a loud, animated voice. “What is it? What’s your brilliant idea for saving Casa Di Moda?”
“Create a plus-size line for curvy women.”
A scowl darkened Davide’s face, and the smile slid off Aurora’s thin pink lips.
“I don’t design clothes for big girls,” she spat. “And I never will.”
“Why not?” Zoe pressed, curious why her boss had shot down her idea. “According to published reports, the average woman in the United Kingdom is a size fourteen, and I think it’s high time we tap into that underserved and unappreciated market.”
“We will not. I style women from size zero to size eight, and that’s it.”
“But women don’t stop at size eight,” Zoe argued. “We come in all shapes and sizes. As a woman with curves, I know firsthand how stressful it is to find attractive designer clothes in Milan. And from what I hear on social media, it’s an issue all across Europe.”
Aurora inspected her French manicure. “That’s not my problem.”
Zoe took a moment to collect her thoughts. Having had this conversation with Jiovanni