Sisters by Choice (Blackberry Island #4)(59)

Sophie hugged her as she stepped into the living room. “Your mom asked me to stop and see her on my way home. You didn’t know that?”

“I guess not.” Amber hadn’t said anything, which wasn’t exactly unusual. Sophie was family, after all. But it seemed odd she hadn’t said anything all through dinner.

“I’ll go get her,” Heather said. “Do you want anything? Diet soda or, um, anything else?” Because except for water, there really wasn’t anything else. Coffee, but seven forty-five at night didn’t seem like coffee time.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Heather hesitated. Sophie seemed quiet tonight. And pale. Heather started to ask if everything was all right, then wasn’t sure if she should. Before she could decide, she saw her mother heading toward the living room, several of her CK logo pillows in her arms.

“Is she here? Good. I want to show her these. The more I think about them, the more I know they’ll be big moneymakers.”

Heather winced at the thought. She’d been working with Elliot long enough to have learned that marketing and sales weren’t as simple as they seemed. Building something did not ensure there would be customers to buy said thing. Consumers were picky—especially when buying something that wasn’t a necessity. Find money for milk for your kids? Absolutely. Spend fifty bucks on a pillow with a company logo? Unlikely.

“You have to take initiative,” her mother told her. “You can’t wait around for someone to come along and take care of things.”

Heather stared at her, wide-eyed. What was she supposed to say to that? “Duh” seemed the most appropriate, but wasn’t really a good idea.

Sophie had made herself comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs. Actually, Heather noticed, the chair was a lot less overstuffed than it had been a few years ago. Now it was only lumpy and tired-looking. Like the rest of their furniture. But replacing anything wasn’t a priority. There was the issue of moving, assuming they still were. She was starting to wonder if her mother was right. After weeks of silence, maybe Grandma had changed her mind about selling the house.

Amber spread out the pillows on the coffee table. “I made these,” she said. “Aren’t they nice? The different colors. I didn’t use an expensive fabric because they’re samples and I was using my own money. For the company, you’ll want something really nice, but it has to wear, too. I’ll let you figure that out.”

Sophie looked confused. “Figure out what?”

“How to manufacture the pillows. They’re my idea, so I know I get a cut of the profits. I’m thinking fifty percent but we can negotiate.”

Sophie looked from the pillows to her cousin and back. “You want me to sell these?”

“Not these. They’re mine.” Amber smiled. “Of course if you want to reimburse me for the materials and pay me for my time, you can have them.”

Sophie frowned. “We’ve tried selling CK logo pillows and they didn’t go over well at all. We ended up having to use them as a gift with purchase. It’s too bad. I thought they were a good idea, too. But the customers didn’t agree.”

Amber’s shoulders slumped. “But I made these. I bought the material and everything. You have to sell them to your customers. Maybe you were doing it wrong before. Maybe you’d be better at it now.”

“Pillows don’t sell. Most people don’t put throw pillows where they sit on a daily basis and when they decorate, they don’t use logo pillows.” She paused. “We have a throw that does well. Linens might be interesting. We’ve never done anything with linens.”

“That’s my idea, too,” Amber said quickly. “You can’t have it.”

“Mom!”

Amber waved her off. “Don’t interrupt. I mean it, Sophie. The linens are my idea. Don’t think you can steal it and not compensate me.”

Sophie looked more confused than upset. “You do realize an idea is meaningless until it’s brought to market. There are research costs, marketing costs. A vendor has to be found, samples ordered. It can take months and then in the end, no one buys it.” She turned to Heather. “Do you think I’m too involved with the company?”

Heather had settled on the floor. Now she wished she’d chosen the sofa, by her mom, so it would be easier to get up and run.

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” she admitted, thinking she really didn’t like the question.

“Dugan says...” Sophie pressed her lips together. “That’s not important.”

“You’re right,” Amber told her firmly. “We’re talking about my ideas and how much I get for my cut.”

“No on the pillows and the linens weren’t your idea. Or at least not exclusively. I have notes on ideas for linens going back three years, Amber. I’m sorry.”

Amber’s eyes filled with tears. “Why are you acting like this? Why are you being so mean?”

“I’m not mean. I’m telling you that I—Why are you crying?”

“Because you have everything and I have nothing. It could have been me, you know.” Amber wiped her cheeks. “If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, I would have been the one to go to college. I would have found the cat and CK would be mine.”