Divorced, Then Priceless

Chapter 5

The Edgerton & Co. building was on a quiet street, it was tucked between a coffee shop and a tailor's shop that looked like it had been closed for quite a couple of years. It was smaller than I expected, just a red brick building with tall windows and there was also a faded sign above the entrance.

The whole place looked worn out but not completely dead, though. It was more like it had been waiting for someone to care about it again.

I stepped out of the car and looked up at the building for a moment. Callum had offered to come with me, butI told him no. I really needed to do this alone. No audience. No family hovering around and making everything feel more serious than it already was.

Gerald Edgerton was waiting for me by the front door. He was a thin man in his late 50s, wearing a suit that looked expensive but had seen better days. He gave me a nervous smile and took my hand for a handshake and he did that a little too eagerly.

"Ms. Rowan," he said. "Welcome. It's truly an honor to have you here."

"Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice." I kept my tone polite but I wasn’t about to start pretending we had been friends for a long time.

"Of course. Of course." He opened the door for me to go in. "Please, come inside. I'll show you everything."

The lobby was quiet. There was an empty reception which was near the entrance and the floor was clean but it was slightly scuffed. I noticed old pictures which were hung on the wall and it was obvious these were pictures from years ago.

I stopped in front of one of the pictures. It showed a group of workers standing outside the building, they were all smiling at the camera. The photo was dated thirty years ago.

"That was my grandfather," Gerald said, then he pointed at a man in the middle of the picture. "He started all of this. My father expanded the company after him."

He paused, and looked at me. "And now I'm hoping someone like you can take it forward."

I didn’t say anything. I mean, what was I supposed to say to that?

He took me to the office first. There were rows of desks with computers and piles of fabric samples sitting around untouched.

Some chairs were empty, and the employees who were still there kept their heads down as we passed. Then, I noticed a woman look up at me briefly before quickly looking back at her computer. I really could not tell if she was curious or just wondering who the hell I was.

The production floor was louder. Machines hummed around us while workers bent over the cutting tables and sewing stations. The place smelled strongly of cotton and dye. Despite the few staff available, the quality of the work was so obvious. The stitching was clean, and the clothes looked well made.

I ran my fingers over a half finished jacket on a nearby table. The fabric was soft but sturdy.

"Who designs your collections?" I asked.

Gerald hesitated. "We have a small design team. There are 3 people that run it and they're very talented."

"3 people?"

"Yes. We had to downsize last year."

I made a mental note. The company was losing really skilled people, not just money.

Gerald led me up a narrow staircase. “The second floor is where most of the offices are.”

The hallway was dim and several offices were dark. At the end of the hall was where Gerald's office was located. He opened the door for me.

"Please, sit. Can I get you some tea? Or coffee?"

"No, thank you." I walked in and sat in the chair across from his desk and folded my hands in my lap.

Gerald sat down heavily. He looked at me for a few seconds, like he was trying to figure out how bad this meeting was about to get.

"I’ve shown you around the place and now you must have an idea of what the place is like," he said. "I’m not going to pretend it's perfect. But I believe there's still something here. Something worth saving."

"You're right," I said. "There is potential. But potential doesn't pay off debt."

His smile wavered. "No. It doesn't."

I opened the folder Callum had given me and looked through the numbers, even though I'd already memorized most of them if not all. "Your revenue has dropped 40 percent in two years. You've lost your 2 largest retail partners and your online sales are almost nonexistent."

Gerald's face grew paler with each sentence.

"And yet," I continued, "your production quality is still good. Your staff is loyal, and people still recognize the brand in certain circles." I closed the folder and looked at him. "What happened, Mr. Edgerton?"

He looked down at his hands. "I made mistakes, bad hires, bad partnerships.” He rubbed his thumb against his hand. “I trusted the wrong people." He swallowed before adding, "I'm not a strong leader. I know that and my father knew that too."

His honesty caught me off guard. I had expected excuses, maybe even some long speech about the economy or how nobody understands the fashion business anymore.

"Are you looking for a buyer or a partner?" I asked.

"A buyer." He met my eyes. "I don’t think this is for me anymore. It’s not because I don't love this place but it’s really because I'm the reason it's dying."

There was silence, for a while. I could even hear the machines running from downstairs.

"I'll be in touch," I said as I got up.

Gerald stood too, almost immediately. "Ms. Rowan, I know you have other options. But if you give me a chance, I won't interfere. You'll have full control and I'll sign whatever you need me to sign."

He was desperate and he made it obvious that he was. It was uncomfortable but I kept that to myself.

"Thank you for the tour," I said.

He walked me to the front door. Just before I stepped out, he spoke again. "If the price is too high, I'm open to negotiating with you. I only want what's best for the company."

I nodded once and left.

Outside, the air was cool and the street was still as quiet as when I arrived earlier.

I walked toward the car, already going over everything I'd seen in my head. The empty desks, the tired workers and the second floor with all those dark offices. Something about it bothered me. It was too quiet up there, also too empty.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

It was another message from the same unknown number.

"Ask about the second floor."

I stopped walking. I stared at the screen for a while before turning around to look at the building again.

The windows on the second floor were still dark. I was literally up there not long. I had walked past those closed doors without thinking to ask Gerald what was behind them.

I typed back.

"Who are you?"

The reply came almost immediately.

"Someone who knows what Nathaniel is hiding."

I paused.

Nathaniel?

What the hell did he have to do with a struggling fashion company?

And what was so important about that second floor?

I turned to the car and opened the door, but I didn't get in. I stood there with one hand on the door frame still staring down at my phone.

Last night, the message said “we”.

Now it was "someone."

Right. Because apparently being clear was too much to ask for.

Whoever this was, they were definitely trying to mess with me. Dropping random pieces of information and expecting me to figure out the rest.

I looked at the building again. The second floor windows stared back at me, dark and empty.

I typed again.

"What is he hiding?”

The screen stayed blank but then a new message appeared.

"Ask the girl on the production floor. The one who watched you today. Her name is Lena."

I inhaled slowly.

The girl.

I knew exactly who they meant.

The one who had looked at me when Gerald was showing me around. She had been watching me from the moment I stepped onto the floor. I saved the messages and put my phone back into my pocket. Then I got into the car and closed the door.

The driver glanced at me through the rear-view mirror. "Back to the estate, Ms. Rowan?"

I looked outside the window and back at the building.

"Not yet," I said. "There's something I need to do first."

The car drove away from the curb, and I watched Edgerton & Co. disappear in the side mirror. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the second floor.

And the name, Lena.