CHAPTER FIVE
Bailey
Bailey woke with a start. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. Extending her arms into a long, slow stretch, she worked out the kinks even as her synapses began firing.
Windsor. The project. Jenson’s typeface.
She sprang from the bed, jumped over a sleeping Duncan, and then launched herself across the room to her desk. She swept up her phone. There was a new text.
Just uploaded another design. Hope you like it.
Another ding followed. Jenson’s name also appeared in the heading.
Worst movie ever?
She tapped out a reply. Thank you! Ummm. Anything with Pee wee Herman.
His response was immediate. My respect for you just tripled.
She chuckled, her fingers itching to dig in and review the files Jenson uploaded, but first, coffee. She took her time, grinding the beans and letting the fresh scent fill the kitchen. Once a fresh pot had begun brewing, Bailey closed her eyes and inhaled. The coffee smell was so strong, so familiar, she could almost picture herself in her parents’ kitchen back home in Florico.
Her heart ached just thinking about it. She missed home so much, but there was nothing to go back for. No one waiting there.
New York was her new life. Did it really matter if she never left her apartment? Never even needed to set foot outside for groceries if she didn’t want to?
Duncan nudged her hand, and then rested his paw on her kneecap. His toenails dug into her skin through her cotton PJs.
“I get it. You need out.” Bailey groaned, but shrugged on her robe and opened the door to her apartment, making sure to lock up behind her. That very habit grated on Bailey’s nerves that morning, more than any other. What was it like to go outside without having to latch five deadbolts? She used to know. Not anymore.
She couldn’t take two steps outside without going through that essential safety ritual.
After Duncan had had his morning constitutional, she made her way back inside, locked up again, and poured her coffee. She took one, long moment to inhale the wonderful aroma—a Kona blend with a hint of hazelnut—before she plunked down in front of her iMac, wheeling into position before her massive monitor. She really hoped Jenson had nailed it this time. “Please let it be good. Please let it be good.”
Three clicks and she’d accessed their shared cloud folder. A fourth and she’d opened the file. And then . . .
Her brain kicked into overdrive, processing the images which formed rapid-fire in her mind. Bailey took a fortifying sip of coffee. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected Jenson’s typeface to look like, but it was absolutely perfect in every way. It was like that particular font family had been made for Windsor. As if it could never be used in any other project.
“Yes!” Bailey squealed, scanning the text examples Jenson had provided. His work wasn’t done. He’d only completed enough letters to provide a sample. He’d mapped the typeface to spell out the spa’s tagline: Windsor—Where everyone feels like royalty.
There was no room for doubt anymore. It was the cheesiest tagline ever created.
The font, however, was anything but. It was her turn to start work. Ideas had already begun popping inside her head the way popcorn kernels did in a pot of hot oil. Pop, pop, pop. Building on one another, growing until the pot’s lid slipped off. She couldn’t wait to dig in. Grabbing her phone, she tapped out a quick reply.
Absolutely perfect! You definitely know ‘royal’!
There was a ding and his reply came back: Excellent. I might have experience with some things royal after all. :)
Definitely. Make up the type-kit for me, okay? I’m going to get started on my part.
Jenson’s reply came back almost immediately. Roger that, boss.
Bailey smiled, focusing on the typeface again. A castle with the tagline would be just the thing. She began with a tablet and stylus, sketching out the illustration that would serve as part of the client’s logo and figure prominently in a TV spot. She gripped the stylus firmly, her hand steady as she drafted sure strokes across virtual paper.
The watercolor imprint of a castle began taking shape, tugging more new ideas out of hiding. Yes! That was the part of her process Bailey loved. When a new concept sprung to life and begged to be designed. It was the part she longed for. The part she fought for every time.
It was the part that Jenson awoke within her. Jenson had to be her perfect partner.
Her face heated. Her perfect working partner.
She sketched even as another part of her gnawed on the word. Partner. There was a thought. Should she offer to make Jenson a partner? Or at the very least offer to hire him full-time? The last bit was an interesting idea, but right then, she couldn’t afford it. The client jobs were coming and they were coming consistently, but not enough for her to feel comfortable with her income. Bailey had been stockpiling half of her wages. Just to be safe.
If she hired Jenson, she’d be required to give him the exact same salary every time. If she made him a partner, however, she might be able to convince him to take a smaller salary at the start. It was something to think about anyway. The last thing she needed was for him to get snatched up by another firm, like Mackenzie Archer or another one of those snooty upstarts.
She had no idea how long she’d been working when another ding caught her attention. Jenson had uploaded the complete type-kit. Bailey skimmed them all, surveying each letter in the alphabet for several minutes. Though she focused on each, she couldn’t find a flaw.
Once the font family had been installed, Bailey opened her favorite illustration program, created a new file, and keyed in the tagline. She stared at the words she’d typed . . . observed every curve of every letter.
Perfect. It was absolutely perfect for the project.
She worked in quiet, using her stylus to shape the core image of the logo. Once given to an animator, it would be animated one brush stroke at a time. She wasn’t into animation herself, but she could envision the finished product. And if she could, that meant she’d be able to help the client do the same.
She’d almost completed the drawing, but the color wasn’t quite right. Periwinkle didn’t seem royal enough.
Setting her stylus aside, she launched her search engine and typed in some familiar words. Prince Asher Florico before adding purple as an additional search term. Dozens of results popped up. She clicked on the Images option and reviewed the pictures of her home country’s handsome prince.
He really was something to look at. It wasn’t just his looks, though. It was the way he held himself: proud and tall, as though his shoulders could bear anything. He’d been standing that way since his parents had died. Before then, he’d been more relaxed. Grief must have changed him. Grief changed everyone.
Bailey’s face flushed and she remembered the reason she’d searched him out in the first place. She needed a picture, one in which the prince wore a very specific royal shade of purple. She found it within the second row of search results. Prince Asher standing at a window with the queen, waving to a crowd before a state dinner.
She took a screenshot of the image and pulled it into her illustration program. From there, she copied the various shades of purple in Asher’s clothing in the photo into a new palette. When she was done, she saved it as “Windsor.”
Grabbing her mouse, Bailey began to select several of the shades with the program’s eyedropper, adding them to her castle. After several minutes, she’d woven varying purple hues into her drawing, adding depth to the image she couldn’t have achieved with a single tone.
Then came that God-awful tagline: Where everyone feels like royalty. She almost couldn’t bring herself to type it. Then, another idea slipped into her head. Channel your inner royal. She typed her own tagline instead. It was just right. Hopefully, the client would feel that way, too.
Hours, and a few more tweaks later, the image felt right to Bailey. It gave her this delicious, toe-curling feeling. To her surprise, she didn’t just want to enjoy it on her own. She wanted to share it with Jenson.
She messaged a low-res version of the image to him, along with the question, Anything missing?
She stood, stretching out the kinks. Duncan nuzzled her thigh when she tried to walk, so it took twice the amount of time to cross the room to her desk. Another ding.
Bailey scanned her phone.
It’s beautiful. Didn’t expect anything less.
Bailey smiled as she replied, Thanks. :)
She double-checked all of the files she’d created for her client and made sure she’d backed up properly. Then, she added a download link to a blank email, along with a note: “Tried something different. Hope you like it! BP.”
Then she submitted her work. On time.
Though she was thrilled to have completed the project on schedule, it wasn’t her design that kept swirling around in her brain, but Jenson’s words.
Didn’t expect anything less.
With a smile on her face, Bailey returned to her coffee.