Lovers by Judith Krantz Page A

skeptically, drawing her out. Bachelor or not, Ben Winthrop spent many thousands of dollars every year on suitably impressive presents to the newborn babes his cousins were producing at a constant rate, as well as on presents to the many godchildren who had been foisted on him by his Harvard classmates. Birthdaysseemed to come around on an almost weekly basis, and Christmas was a nightmare. One of his secretaries was permanently detailed to keep on top of the children’s gift situation and she complained about its difficulty.
    “I want to change Kids’ Paradise, make it into a Scruples for kids’ gifts. Call it, oh … oh … The Enchanted Attic, yeah, that’s
it!—The Enchanted Attic—
redecorate to fit the name, turn their entire merchandising policy upside down, bring in a line of fabulous gift wrappings—the right wrapping is essential, the box has to be a signature box—make it
the
place to find the best, most exciting, and original presents, the Tiffany of toy stores, plus kids’ antiques and clothing the department stores don’t have, and a great line of specially designed smaller gifts, like Tiffany’s baby teething rings, for example, for people who want to spend less and still buy status and—”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Ben said expressionlessly. He did know, he’d known from the minute she’d said “Scruples for kids” that this idea was a natural, a potential gold mine, his kind of investment, for his malls were located in precisely the communities where such shops would flourish.
    “Why the hell not?” Gigi put her hands on her hips and looked at him challengingly. “Give me one good reason. Aren’t you supposed to be a visionary?”
    “You talk fast, lady, but making it happen would take a major infusion of capital.”
    “I think capital is less of a problem than location. If you let the Kids’ Paradise people, the Mullers, stay put until they change over, they won’t go belly-up and—”
    “What’s in it for you?” he demanded.
    “But isn’t that obvious? They’d absolutely
have
to advertise. That would be an essential part of the deal. The Enchanted Attic would have to become a client of FRB and I’d bring in a piece of new business.”
    “That’s all you want? You’re sure?”
    “I never want to go back to retailing, thank you very much, but I just bet Billy—it’s right down her alley—might be—”
    Ben pounced before she could complete that thought. “Stop right there, Gigi, I never work with partners.”
    “Say that again.”
    “I never work with partners. I enjoy gambling now and then, so I’ll put up the capital myself, refrain from foreclosing, defer the rent for as long as necessary, and hire a retailing expert to work with the Kids’ Paradise people.”
    “Oh, oh, oh …!”
    “Why are you wailing like that?”
    “You’re going too fast! Wait just one hell of a little minute here! You didn’t say anything about an advertising budget. No advertising, no Enchanted Attic.”
    “What sort of budget did you have in mind?” If he hadn’t had a lifetime of practice in keeping a straight face, he’d have had to smile at her naiveté.
    “Well. Hmmmm … we’re pitching a seven-million-dollar account just to try to sell one brand of swimsuits to one type of woman, not all of whom swim … and here we’re talking an
explosion
of kids … upper-income kids, right up to preteen, all of whom have birthdays and Christmas … let me think … to make a dent with a chain of a hundred and two stores … I’d imagine,” Gigi said, guessing wildly, “you’d need lots more than that for print advertising to establish the client’s identity. After all, Indigo Seas already has an identity, and The Enchanted Attic doesn’t. Oh, absolutely
more
. You’d want national print in the glossy magazines and local print in the city magazines and then you couldn’t possibly leave out the parents’ magazines or the women’s magazines … I’m not