A New Year Marriage Proposal. Kate Hardy

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       CHAPTER TWO

      ‘I WANT YOU to build me a virtual Santa,’ Carissa said. ‘It’s for the opening of a new children’s ward.’

      ‘A virtual Santa.’ Now Quinn understood: obviously she worked in PR. That would explain the expensive clothes—and the glasses. To make her look serious rather than fluffy. Image was everything in PR. And the fact that she could even consider commissioning something without having to ask the price first meant that she didn’t have to defer to anyone on her budget; so she was the owner or director of the company and the client trusted her judgement absolutely. ‘Why can’t you have a real Santa?’

      ‘I intend to,’ she said. ‘But I need the virtual one first.’

      ‘Why? Surely a real Santa would come with a sack of gifts?’

      A tiny pleat appeared between her eyebrows. ‘He will. But the virtual one will chat to them first. A life-sized one—I guess a holographic thing will probably be too difficult to do at short notice, but we could have a life-sized screen. Santa will get them to say what they really want for Christmas. In the meantime, people behind the scenes can buy the gifts, wrap them and label them, and then the real Santa walks in with all the gifts on his sleigh, and he delivers their perfect Christmas present.’

      Quinn could see exactly how the system could work. It wouldn’t take very much effort at all to build the system she wanted. And suddenly everything was all right again: he could treat this as a business project.

      ‘OK. Does it have to be life-sized? Because a screen that big is going to be really costly,’ he warned. She might be able to persuade various businesses to donate or loan some equipment, but not for something as specialised as that.

      She thought about it. ‘Some of the children might be too sick to leave their beds. I guess something portable would be better for them—so basically we’re taking Santa to them. And if everyone uses the same system then nobody will feel left out or different.’

      ‘So you could use a laptop or tablet, say.’ He thought about it. ‘That’d be very doable. And it would save you money if you could use something you already have.’

      ‘And I was thinking maybe we could use the barcodes on an appointment letter or the children’s medical notes, so Santa knows the children’s names even as they look at the screen,’ she said.

      He shook his head. ‘No chance. You’ll fall foul of all the data protection laws. You’d have to get permission from the health authority to use their data—and, believe me, you’d have to jump through hoops to get that permission—and then you’d also need written permission from every single parent or guardian. It’s not going to happen. You need a different way of doing it.’

      ‘So what would you suggest?’ she asked.

      ‘Give me until tomorrow to think about it,’ he said, ‘and I’ll come up with a plan. How are you organising the gifts?’

      ‘Santa will pass the information to a team who’ll source the gifts, buy them, get them wrapped and couriered over to the hospital. Timing’s going to be a bit tight, but it’s doable,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about that bit. I’ve already got an arrangement with a couple of large toy shops and department stores.’

      ‘They’re donating the gifts?’

      ‘No. We’re picking up the costs. They’ve just agreed to supply what we want and give us priority treatment.’

      Quinn had the distinct feeling that this was personal as well as business. Maybe Carissa knew a child who’d been in hospital at Christmas. Someone who’d been close to her.

      ‘It’s the virtual Santa that’s important,’ she added.

      ‘And you have someone lined up to play him?’

      ‘I do,’ she said. ‘One last thing.’

      ‘Yes?’

      There was a hint of anxiety in her eyes. ‘This has to be totally confidential.’

      He didn’t get it. ‘Isn’t the whole point of PR to get media coverage?’

      ‘For the opening of the children’s ward, yes. For the person behind Santa, no.’

      Maybe it wasn’t personal for her, then. Maybe it was personal for her client—and Carissa was the kind of PR professional who’d go the extra mile to make sure that her clients got exactly what they wanted.

      ‘Got it. OK. Let’s have an update meeting tomorrow at my place,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you timings, costs and a workable solution.’

      ‘That,’ she said, ‘sounds perfect.’

      ‘What time do you want to meet?’

      ‘Seven?’ СКАЧАТЬ