Darling Girl: A Novel of Peter Pan(2)

The team talks strategy for a few moments. They’ve done one or two of these deals before, where the Darling name is loaned out for a special product launch—though never one of this magnitude. Today they’ll combine their brand with the country’s leading cosmetics company to create a highlighter called Pixie Dust. The conference phone rings, and Barry answers it.

“Send them up,” he says. Then, to Holly, “They’re here.”

A low buzz fills the room as the four staffers turn to one another, aligning marketing materials that are already perfectly straightened, doing a last-minute check on water glasses and chairs. Only Barry seems relaxed. His eyes roam the stark white conference room, the sole hint of color coming from the bouquets of pink peonies dusted with golden glitter that are arranged in the center of the table. He grins widely, teeth gleaming.

“We’re ready for this,” he says. “We’ve got this, people.”

A few minutes later Holly, Barry, and the rest of the team stand as Holly’s assistant ushers in a woman and two men. The woman reaches out to shake Barry’s hand, then leans in to hug Holly, who proffers her own hand instead.

“Lauren,” Holly says smoothly, covering any awkwardness. “So nice to see you again.”

“It’s wonderful to see you too, Holly. You look amazing, as always. How’s Jack?”

“He’s great, thanks. Still living for lacrosse. His sophomore year is flying by.”

“He must be itching to get his driver’s license,” Lauren Lander says. “I’m telling you, hold him off as long as you can. Once they start driving, you lose all control. Teenagers behind the wheel are an accident waiting to happen.”

“I can imagine,” Holly says with a tight smile. She can tell when realization hits Lauren; she glances involuntarily at Holly’s leg, a horrified expression crossing her face.

“And your two?” Barry says, stepping in to do damage control before Lauren can make it worse. “I heard your son made the golf team at Eckerd. You must be so proud.”

“We wish he was closer, but at least we have a warm place to visit,” Lauren says, clearly grateful for the change in topic. “Ashley’s already planning on heading there for spring break.”

She turns to Holly. “We should introduce Jack and Ashley sometime. It would be so thrilling for her to meet a Darling.”

“That would be great,” Holly says. Her eyes meet Barry’s.

“She’d be so excited,” Lauren continues, letting out a very unprofessional giggle. “She’s fascinated by your family. Peter Pan was her hero for years. Though it’s always a shame when you realize your literary crushes aren’t real, isn’t it?”

Holly’s lips thin. “Tragic.”

There’s no chance in hell she’ll make that introduction. She’s worked too hard, for too long, to keep Jack safe to blithely put him in the path of a party girl like Lauren’s daughter.

Holly moves to the table and Lauren follows, still chatting. A folder filled with mock-ups of Pixie Dust ad campaigns rests at each place. Each folder is topped by a tiny pink glass bottle of the powder that glitters in the light. One bottle is slightly off-center, and Holly frowns until the marketing director hurriedly adjusts it.

“Adorable!” Lauren says. “This is going to fly off the shelves.”

Barry gives Holly a triumphant look, but she’s not ready to celebrate quite yet. She taps a finger against her folder, and Barry gets the hint. “Let’s take a look at the terms,” he says, opening his up.

“Oh, but before we get into that, I want to see,” says Lauren. She cracks open the glass bottle, sniffs. “Smells like . . . lemon. No, sarsaparilla. No, that’s not it. But it’s . . . something effervescent. Am I right?”

Holly’s staff freezes. Holly’s known for her strict adherence to the agenda, and she’s been known to explode when someone goes off schedule. Even Barry’s giving her the side-eye, but Holly surprises them all.

“Think of it as . . . the scent of springtime,” she says, shrugging almost imperceptibly toward Barry. For the amount of money on the line, she can afford to play nice.

“I like that. How does it work?” Lauren asks, tapping a tiny bit into her hand.

Holly nods at the marketing director, who cues the video. A wide shot pans to a beautiful young girl by the banks of a frozen lake. Ice covers the ground. A glass bottle floats through the night sky. The girl catches the bottle, opens it, and blows the contents into the air. As the golden powder swirls above her, her face brightens, as if lit from within by stars. She turns to the camera, radiant.

“All you need is faith, trust, and a little Pixie Dust,” a man’s voice intones. The screen fades to black.

“Oooh,” Lauren breathes. She tilts her head up, blows the dust in her palm into the air, closes her eyes as it settles on her face. “It feels . . . tingly.” She turns to the man next to her. “How does it look?”

The man inspects her face as if he’s looking at a spreadsheet. The powder has disappeared, but there’s a slight sheen to Lauren’s skin, a radiance that wasn’t there before. Her skin looks taut and even. “It’s subtle, but there’s a definite glow. It’s quite pretty. More to the point, it looks completely natural. Honestly, it’s like nothing we’ve seen out there.”