Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1)

by Rachelle Paige

  “You know what? Yes. Losing tap class would be the worst thing to happen to me,” Lizzie replied, hanging up on him.

  Patrick hadn’t understood her need for family in any form after the accident. But then again, being happily married with one daughter and another on the way, he had one. She’d been left adrift and her noisy, sassy, sweet next-door neighbor had stepped in and given her that. She’d be forever grateful to Rose.

  Lizzie parked the car and hopped out, leaving her purse inside and taking only her keys. I don’t have time for this. Lizzie shook her head. She had not choice. No matter how embarrassing the recital might prove to be, she’d made a promise to Rose to invite Mark.

  Walking quickly down the path, her ballet flats were silent against the tabby. She reached the door to the office, put her ear to the door to make sure Mark wasn’t on the phone. Satisfied by the silence, she opened the door and marched in, stopping in front of his desk.

  “How did your meeting with Sam go?” Mark asked, looking over his monitor for a second before looking back down.

  “Great,” she replied, slightly breathless.

  Nodding he didn’t look back up. Don’t lose your nerve.

  “You hesitated.” He stopped typing and looked up at her.

  Don’t squirm. Finding her nerve had suddenly become complicated. Lizzie opened her mouth before shutting it again.

  “Is something wrong? Why aren’t you telling me a million things right now? Why are you quiet?” he asked, looking at her intently.

  “Sorry, lost my train of thought.” Lizzie gave her head a little shake and plastered a smile on her face. “No, everything is great. I think they are well prepared for tomorrow and after working with Sam, I think he’s more than up to snuff for the next event.”

  Mark nodded. “Thank you for going over there so much to oversee. I appreciate your help. But I think you need to learn to let go and delegate more. If you want to have planners working for you, then you have to let go.”

  A smile froze on her lips. She did want to have planners working for her. But first she’d need a raise. Could she bring that up again? Maybe I’d better wait a few days, until after the concert.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” she replied. “And to some extent I agree. But there is too much at stake to not be there in person, checking every detail.” She wanted to add, because someone needs to, but bit her tongue.

  Frank Cade belittled her and seemed eager to go out of his way to undermine her. But Mark delegated more than he should have to her and listened to her opinions. She loved working events and her attention to detail style was exhausting and exhilarating.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to have a contingency plan?” she asked again, biting the inside of her cheek.

  “Positive. You remember how tinny the sound is in that room?” He asked but turned his attention back to his monitor.

  I remember you holding me. Her waist prickled at the memory of the heat from his hands. Dancing together, their bodies totally in sync, had stirred up thoughts and feelings and desires that she hadn’t even acknowledged in years. We move well together, we can work as a team, that’s all. Lizzie pressed her lips together.

  “Okay, well I’ve done everything I can. I’m heading out for the night. I’ve got to meet up with class by seven tonight.”

  “Oh?” he asked politely but didn’t lift his head from his computer to acknowledge her.

  He’s probably not listening. Exhaling loudly, she stopped procrastinating.

  “Rose wanted to invite you to our performance on Monday night. I know it’s kind of a crazy weekend for you, so I’ll tell her you’re too busy.”

  Lizzie watched Mark finish typing and turn to give her his full attention.

  “I’ll be there,” he said.

  “You will?” she asked and swallowed hard. “You know it’s a bunch of old ladies tap dancing to Cole Porter, right?”

  “I can’t let Rose down,” he replied with a wink.

  “Good. I’ll tell her. And I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  * * * * *

  Mark waited until the lock clicked in the doorframe. He let out a whoosh of air and rolled his shoulders from front to back. He remembered more than just the sound in the ballroom a month ago. He remembered how nice dancing could be with a woman who trusted him enough to let him lead. She leaned on me, relied on me.

  Pushing back from his chair, he crossed the room and left the office as quickly as his feet could catch him. Clouds fringed in pink hung in the darkening sky overhead. Maybe I can catch him before he leaves. I need to talk to Frank, the sooner the better. The thought spurred him on and had him jogging down the path.

  She’ll either love me or hate me for this. He had hope enough to believe talking to Frank about her again wasn’t a folly. Twisting the knob on the door, Mark strode into the antechamber. Samantha Andersen’s eyes widened when she caught sight of him. Motioning for him to wait as she finished a call, he froze a few steps from Frank’s door.

  “Mark, how are you? Haven’t seen you in awhile,” Samantha greeted, hanging up the phone and standing up behind her desk.

  “Is he in?” Mark tilted his head toward the closed door.

  Samantha pursed her lips and looked down. “He is, but he’s not in a good mood. What do you need?”

  “I wanted to talk to him about hiring another event planner.”

  Samantha chortled.

  Why is that funny? After her initial reticence, Lizzie had taken his opinions on increasing revenue and turned them into reality. She’d asked him thoughtful questions. He had plenty of anecdotes and stories to share and she listened to them all. She’s eager to learn and improve her skills. He liked that she understood what she knew and also what she didn’t. Their relationship had deepened to a level where trust had formed. She trusted that he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way, like when she’d followed him in the dance. Or her quick laugh and easy smile when they were together.

  “I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Samantha warned, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Why?” Mark crossed the room, careful to not let his keys jingle in his pocket or his heels click too loudly against the hardwood floor. Stopping in front of Samantha’s desk, he crossed his arms over his chest. “They have the budget. They lost another event planner almost a year ago and never replaced her. Why can’t they hire one now?”

  Darting her eyes left and right, Samantha slowly pushed back her chair. Grabbing Mark by the wrist, she pulled him away from her desk to the corner furthest from Frank’s door.

  “There isn’t a budget for another event planner. Not right now,” she whispered.

  “What? How can that be?”

  “There just isn’t.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Look, Mark don’t get involved in this. The less you know, the cleaner your hands are.”

  “What does that mean? What’s with all the subterfuge?”

  “Frank has had a tough year. Why do you think he pushed you to squeeze every nickel you could out of every contract? The first three quarters have been a loss. If he doesn’t show a big enough gain in this last quarter, he’s out.”

  “And he decided to use the budget from events to make up some of that loss?”

  “Not exactly. When Frank re-forecasted the budget, he cut that extra expense. An additional planner is no longer available,” Samantha corrected.

  Holding up her hands, she stepped away from him and from the situation. Rustling on the other side of the room caught their attention. Samantha nearly tripped, racing back to her desk. Mark didn’t follow.

  His growing admiration for Lizzie had grown much trickier to navigate. How could he work with her, with this knowledge, that she wouldn’t be getting help? At least not anytime soon. How did that change their dynamic?

  A phone rang on the other side of the door. The low chuckle reverberated through the room. Mark approached Samantha one more time.

&nbs
p; “He’ll lose her,” he whispered, staring her down until she met his gaze.

  “That wouldn’t be good.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Frank has no idea what great customer service Lizzie provides,” Mark punctuated each word. He clenched his hands into fists at his side. He wanted to punch something, or, more accurately, Frank. Mark tightened his grip until his fingernails bit into the palms of his hands.

  Samantha didn’t offer any further reply.

  Shaking his head, Mark turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He headed straight for his car. He was well prepared for tomorrow. Lizzie made sure of that.

  Humming and buzzing insects filled the air as twilight descended. The white noise made a perfect soundtrack for his chaotic mind. If he’d met her only a few months before, they could have started something. He hadn’t been ready then. He’d needed every second of the six months he’d had to even start to think about getting involved with someone again. The timing hadn’t been in their favor, he reasoned. He’d always been one of the few that benefited from dumb luck, he had to accept when it didn’t work out his way too.

  But that didn’t mean that Mark wanted to see her with anyone else.

  That stupid kid over at the convention center looked at her. Mark wanted to punch him too. He’d been shocked that the kid hadn’t asked her on a date although he assumed that would be coming. Would she say yes? Would she go out with that guy? Sure they had more in common then Mark and Lizzie. Lizzie told him that they had gone to the same alma mater and both loved playing fantasy football. But would she date him?

  Why would she tell me if she did? Her romantic life is none of my business.

  But still, he couldn’t stop thinking of all the negatives against Sam. The biggest reason, in his opinion, the kid seemed too young. He was more of a distraction than a boyfriend. If Lizzie was going to date anyone, clearly she should be with him. Mark swallowed. He couldn’t let himself go that road.

  Hopping in his car, he turned the key in the ignition. He had a date with Scooter. A good run would help him clear his mind and focus on what he could do. Namely, make tomorrow’s event the biggest success of his career. And talk to Frank without Samantha around. I’m sure she’s wrong. She has to be.

  Because he couldn’t bear the alternative.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lizzie stood outside on her porch with her coffee and tried her best to see the beauty in the crimson sunrise. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Unease settled over her as she drank the last dregs of her mug. Rain in the morning would soak the ground and ruin set-up. If the weather held off until the evening, then everyone got drenched.

  Her palms felt clammy. Mark had clearly told her, there was no other option for the reception and dinner but to be held outside. I have to wait for him to give me the directions today. No matter how worried I might be.

  At least I don’t have to say until the end of the event. Mark needed her to oversee the concert staffing and the cocktail reception and dinner set up. With any luck, she’d be gone by seven.

  Putting her mug on the little table next to her rocking chair, Lizzie stood up and stretched her arms overhead. Leaning first to her right side and then to her left, her movement caught the eye of a speed walker on the street. Rose powered past Lizzie’s house and, in less than a minute, turned back to pound up the front steps.

  “What’s this?” Rose asked, panting as she dabbed her neck with a small towel.

  Rose dressed for every occasion and her morning constitutional was no different. Her workout outfit of lightweight, jewel-toned windbreaker and matching pants were from another time and yet had been carefully maintained; like she’d gotten into a time machine and bought the tracksuit off the rack in a 1990s department store that morning.

  “I was just finishing my coffee,” Lizzie replied, tilting her head over to the table.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be over there by now?”

  “It’s not my job, remember?”

  “I remember. I didn’t think you did.”

  Lizzie let the comment pass, unremarked. “How far did you go? Aren’t you dying in all that polyester?”

  “Eh,” Rose replied. She shrugged and dabbed at her terrycloth headband with her towel. The sweatband gave her the air of a 70s tennis star. Lizzie marveled at the halo that floated above and around her hair without smashing her curls against her scalp. “I power walked about three miles round trip. I go so fast, I barely have time to sweat.”

  “Wow.”

  “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been thinking about your situation.”

  Sucking in a breath, Lizzie steeled herself, ready for whatever Rose had to throw her way.

  “You love St. Simons. Yes? You don’t want to leave?”

  Blinking rapidly, Lizzie gave the tiniest nod possible. I don’t have time to get upset about this today.

  “Move in with me. I don’t want you to go. I won’t even charge rent. You can be my… What do they call it? In those old books? Like Jane Austen?”

  “Companion?” Lizzie gulped. Rose’s idea had sobered her up, quick. “You want me to live with you as your companion?”

  “That’s it! Yes.”

  “Rose, I… Thank you for that, for your offer. It’s just… I…” she stumbled over the words, her mind scrambling. “I can’t stand to live next-door when the lawyer sells this house.”

  “You don’t think Patrick will buy the house?”

  Shaking her head sadly, Lizzie looked back up at the beautiful beach cottage. A sea of azaleas floated around the front, abundant from the damp, spongy marsh ground. The house soared into the sky, with a tower at the top peeking over the pines interspersed throughout the slim property. Her mother had dreamed of building this house her entire life. Patrick had been insistent that he wouldn’t take on another house or mortgage. Even if he wanted to maintain two properties, driving for two days to a vacation house made little sense. She couldn’t bear the idea of watching another family take possession of her mother’s dream.

  Rose reached out and put a kind hand on her cheek.

  “Think about it honey. I’ve got to get going, can’t stand around here all day. Not if I want to keep up my figure somehow and I have no intention of dieting,” Rose shuddered on the word.

  Lizzie grinned but knew better than to offer any reply to that comment directly. “I do have to go in. I was just getting ready and enjoying my coffee while I have the chance. I’ll be on my feet for most of the day.”

  “Don’t let me keep you. But say hello to Mark for me. And you did invite him to the recital, didn’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is he coming?”

  “I think so, but…”

  “But what?”

  “It’s so embarrassing. The costumes Marie bought for us? Could they be any shorter?”

  “Be grateful for the skirt. You should have seen what she wanted us to wear. Let’s just say, we would have looked like the world’s oldest showgirls.”

  “How much better is that then Las Vegas’ saddest group of cocktail waitresses? Honestly, it’s like we should be forming a union for better pay and more time off with those little frilly skirts and the fishnets.”

  “Maybe we should. We could use more time off from tap.”

  Lizzie giggled. Talking with Rose lightened her spirit and made any task not just possible but fun.

  “Listen, I do need to go in now. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the Casino,” Lizzie said.

  “Sounds great.”

  She stepped forward to give Lizzie a hug. Lizzie hesitated. They’d never embraced. Their friendship had always had firm boundaries about physical contact. It had never been intentional on Lizzie’s part; she’d been prone to hugs and handshakes with even complete strangers. But she hadn’t embraced anyone since the funeral when she’d let countless friends and family hold her as sobs wracked her body.

  Lizzie stepped closer to her friend and Rose embraced her, wrap
ping her arms around Lizzie’s tense frame. Lizzie took in a deep breath, but found that instead of wanting to crumble like a stale cookie, the hug made her relax. She closed her eyes and breathed in the light scent of lavender that hovered over Rose’s clothes, reminding her of sachets from her late grandmother’s coat closet.

  “You’re going to be great,” Rose whispered into her ear. “I’m proud of you.”

  Lizzie nodded and broke free from the hug.

  “Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Lizzie watched her friend power walk back down the stairs and across the driveway and yard to her house. She couldn’t stall anymore. Lizzie let herself in, finished getting ready, and left. She drove into town, stopped off to get breakfast to-go for two and drove over to Jekyll.

  Lizzie pounded down the tabby path, balancing two Styrofoam containers on top of each other and her giant purse over her shoulder. She reached the door and hit it with her foot several times, until Mark answered the door.

  “What’s this?” he asked, taking the Styrofoam from her.

  She stepped into the office, shut the door behind her, and sighed, the air conditioning making her shiver. Sure, it’s the air conditioner, not the tall man in the trim cut slacks.

  “You okay?” he asked, eyeing her.

  “Perfect,” she said, closing her slightly agape mouth and smiling. “I brought breakfast.”

  Lizzie tilted her head to the containers in his hands and watched Mark’s eyes grow wide. He opened one of the containers and breathed in the buttery smell.

  “Biscuits,” he said, salivating over the words.

  “Is there any other breakfast down here?”

  Walking to her desk to put down her purse, she pulled the utensils and napkins out and returned to sit on the couch. Mark handed her both containers, got up to pour them each a coffee, and set the mugs on the ground in front of them. I guess we need a coffee table too. This is becoming quite the little home. She handed a fork to Mark, and he began to shovel food into his mouth without any hesitation.