the general overall appearance. We’ll take it from there.”
Tim didn’t flinch. “Hey, great idea. I should have thought of that. Okay. You take the lead when Genevieve gets in here. She doesn’t need to know every detail of what you and I are going to do; she couldn’t understand the whole code-writing business.”
“We’ll say we’re going to share the work and the pay, right?” Jenny asked. “Half and half, equally?”
“Right,” Tim agreed, just as their client entered the room.
Genevieve was frothed in turquoise silk from shoulders toankles. “I am so sorry I’m not dressed yet,” she apologized, although she could have worn the garment to a party. “But you can just ignore that, okay? Now, what do you have for me?”
Jenny explained the idea of a contest for a logo and the overall look of the site.
Genevieve’s brow puckered. “But won’t that just take forevah?”
“Not if we put a deadline on it,” Tim told her. “We’ll e-mail the artists on your list today, tell them we need the idea by Thursday, and the three of us can decide on Friday.”
Her lily-white brow crinkled even more. “The
three
of us will decide?”
Jenny leaned forward. “You’ll have the final say, of course, but Tim and I will have to weigh in on feasibility and efficiency.”
“Efficiency?” Genevieve looked as if the word hurt.
“Some designs might be simpler, and offer more versatility for our purposes. We can get the site live faster. Also, what might be striking on paper might be impossible to reproduce on a website.”
“I see.” Genevieve tapped her lip with a long, perfectly filed silver fingernail.
Jenny and Tim waited.
“No.” Genevieve shook her head. “No, I don’t like this idea. Someone’s feelings are gonna get hurt. I don’t like having to choose one person over the others. Those artist types are already sensitive enough. No. You two design a prototype and e-mail it to me by the end of this week. We’ve got to get the site up and running before August.”
Jenny glanced over at Tim. They both took a deep breath, then smiled at Genevieve.
“You got it,” Jenny said.
Genevieve stood up in a ripple of turquoise. “All right, then.I think we can do most of this by e-mail, okay? You have my e-mail address?” Reaching in a drawer, she took out two cards and handed them over.
Jenny and Tim stood up. Genevieve sashayed out of the room.
Jenny looked at Tim. “So. How are we going to do this?”
“Let’s go to my office,” Tim suggested.
Jenny started to object, then remembered that her office was in her bedroom.
It was all too complicated to explain right now, how she couldn’t put an office downstairs because the house wasn’t wholly hers and her stepsisters were living there this summer. She didn’t want to spend the money to rent a space on Nantucket yet. Besides, most of her clients contacted her online and she’d meet them at their place of business. She seldom needed a face-to-face meeting. Tim’s office was in a building in a minimall on Airport Road. “Fine,” she agreed.
Tim held the door open for her as they walked outside into the sunshine. “I’ll meet you there.”
She nodded. In her car, she gave herself a moment to compose her roiling emotions. Why did that man get her so revved up? She’d have a heart attack and die someday arguing with him over something like the size of a font.
Meg lay on her towel in the sand, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves against Jetties Beach. She’d been waiting almost twenty years for this moment. Next to her was her beach bag, stocked with bottled water, sunblock, and a book that so far, surprisingly, she had no interest in reading. It was just too sweet to lie here feeling the sun on her skin.
Because it was early June, the air was a perfect temperature, in the high seventies and cooled by an occasional sea breeze. Otherpeople had their own spots established up and down the beach, but it wasn’t as
Tim didn’t flinch. “Hey, great idea. I should have thought of that. Okay. You take the lead when Genevieve gets in here. She doesn’t need to know every detail of what you and I are going to do; she couldn’t understand the whole code-writing business.”
“We’ll say we’re going to share the work and the pay, right?” Jenny asked. “Half and half, equally?”
“Right,” Tim agreed, just as their client entered the room.
Genevieve was frothed in turquoise silk from shoulders toankles. “I am so sorry I’m not dressed yet,” she apologized, although she could have worn the garment to a party. “But you can just ignore that, okay? Now, what do you have for me?”
Jenny explained the idea of a contest for a logo and the overall look of the site.
Genevieve’s brow puckered. “But won’t that just take forevah?”
“Not if we put a deadline on it,” Tim told her. “We’ll e-mail the artists on your list today, tell them we need the idea by Thursday, and the three of us can decide on Friday.”
Her lily-white brow crinkled even more. “The
three
of us will decide?”
Jenny leaned forward. “You’ll have the final say, of course, but Tim and I will have to weigh in on feasibility and efficiency.”
“Efficiency?” Genevieve looked as if the word hurt.
“Some designs might be simpler, and offer more versatility for our purposes. We can get the site live faster. Also, what might be striking on paper might be impossible to reproduce on a website.”
“I see.” Genevieve tapped her lip with a long, perfectly filed silver fingernail.
Jenny and Tim waited.
“No.” Genevieve shook her head. “No, I don’t like this idea. Someone’s feelings are gonna get hurt. I don’t like having to choose one person over the others. Those artist types are already sensitive enough. No. You two design a prototype and e-mail it to me by the end of this week. We’ve got to get the site up and running before August.”
Jenny glanced over at Tim. They both took a deep breath, then smiled at Genevieve.
“You got it,” Jenny said.
Genevieve stood up in a ripple of turquoise. “All right, then.I think we can do most of this by e-mail, okay? You have my e-mail address?” Reaching in a drawer, she took out two cards and handed them over.
Jenny and Tim stood up. Genevieve sashayed out of the room.
Jenny looked at Tim. “So. How are we going to do this?”
“Let’s go to my office,” Tim suggested.
Jenny started to object, then remembered that her office was in her bedroom.
It was all too complicated to explain right now, how she couldn’t put an office downstairs because the house wasn’t wholly hers and her stepsisters were living there this summer. She didn’t want to spend the money to rent a space on Nantucket yet. Besides, most of her clients contacted her online and she’d meet them at their place of business. She seldom needed a face-to-face meeting. Tim’s office was in a building in a minimall on Airport Road. “Fine,” she agreed.
Tim held the door open for her as they walked outside into the sunshine. “I’ll meet you there.”
She nodded. In her car, she gave herself a moment to compose her roiling emotions. Why did that man get her so revved up? She’d have a heart attack and die someday arguing with him over something like the size of a font.
Meg lay on her towel in the sand, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves against Jetties Beach. She’d been waiting almost twenty years for this moment. Next to her was her beach bag, stocked with bottled water, sunblock, and a book that so far, surprisingly, she had no interest in reading. It was just too sweet to lie here feeling the sun on her skin.
Because it was early June, the air was a perfect temperature, in the high seventies and cooled by an occasional sea breeze. Otherpeople had their own spots established up and down the beach, but it wasn’t as
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