“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Starving. I’d eat anything right now.”
“Maybe I should have just gone to Waffle House then. If you aren’t going to appreciate Palmer’s,” Lizzie remarked, opening up her own container.
“This is from Palmer’s? I love that place.”
“You do? You’ve been there?” Lizzie asked, frowning.
She had speared a biscuit onto her fork and raised the first bite to her lips. She froze at his words. Why did she feel so disappointed? He’d lived on the island for far longer than she had. But she’d wanted to share something with him, something special. Why? What’s the big deal? Why am I disappointed?
“Of course, it’s across the street from Phil’s bar.”
“Oh,” Lizzie replied and frowned.
“I’m sorry, was I not supposed to know about Palmer’s?”
“I just wanted to surprise you.”
“Well you did surprise me. This is great. Thanks Lizzie.”
Lizzie dove into her breakfast. Her food had cooled to room temperature but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and took her first bite, savoring the soft, chewy biscuit with the creamy gravy. Lizzie moaned and then stopped herself.
“You okay?” Mark asked, chuckling.
“I’m fine. Palmer’s is one of my favorite places.”
“Mine too. What are the others?”
“I have a favorite spot, where I go to relax and unwind.” And cry.
“And where might this mystery location be? Because if you say the Pier than I’m afraid I’m going to have to ruin that one for you too.”
No, I like the Pier now too. Her cheeks heated, remembering how they met and how he grabbed her. She’d been able to picture the cut arms through his suit jackets ever since. Shaking her head, she took a sip of her coffee
“No, I like to sit next to the battery at Fort Frederica. Have you ever been there?”
“I don’t think so. Is that on the north end? I haven’t been past the movie theater.”
Yep, my end of the island. Silence fell as they each finished their meal. His relaxed posture, his affable mood, and his ready smile didn’t fit the day. Doesn’t he realize he has a make or break his new job event going on tonight? Why is he so calm?
“So, how are you doing?” Lizzie asked,
“I’m fine. Everything is going smoothly.”
“Really? Huh…”
“That sounded disapproving.”
“Sorry, it’s just… It’s my experience that something always goes wrong and I like the sooner rather than later approach. The earlier the event falls apart, the more time I have to fix everything.”
“Don’t worry. Everything is fine. I’m not nervous and you shouldn’t be either.”
Nodding slowly, Lizzie drained her mug. Her legs wobbled underneath her slightly as she got up from the couch and walked back to the desk. Maybe he is the right person for his job. I’d never be so cool and calm on the day of a major event. Maybe that’s what Frank was looking for, someone who couldn’t be rattled.
* * * * *
“Mark, come on. What are we doing?” Lizzie asked an immobilized Mark only a few hours later.
The weather had held off until thirty minutes before the end of the concert, right when her day should have ended. Her feet and lower back ached from standing all day. I want to go home and get in the tub. I don’t want to deal with this.
Holding her hair back with one hand, as the wind whipped it around, she analyzed Mark. He didn’t move and his glazed eyes looked past her. Great, he doesn’t seem to want to deal with this either. The dark skies threatened to unleash rain at any moment. Large buildings surrounding the concert protected the spot from the weather, fortunately. But with nothing between the sand and the sea, the cocktail reception that had been so carefully laid out was toppling.
“I…I… I’m not sure,” he stammered, his words nearly lost against the sounds of waves crashing hundreds of feet away.
Lizzie bit her lip and considered. If she didn’t step in, if she let him fail, then she could swoop in and take the job for herself. Like she’d wanted. I’d get the job, I’d have more prominence and would only work on a handful of events for the entire year. She’d hire two planners to take over at the resort and would get herself an assistant. Patrick would stop trying to force her out of her home and would come to accept the direction she’d chosen for herself.
No. I’m not going to play dirty. I’ve never been a cheat. Why would she start now? Especially when taking advantage of the situation would push him out.
“I do,” she said.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Sam. He picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s me. We need everyone out there now. We have to move every table inside in the corridor and then move onto the ballroom for dinner. Okay?” she told him without any pleasantries.
“Yep. I’ll meet you out here,” he replied.
Lizzie hung up and turned to look at Mark. He stood still, his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. Lizzie wanted to push him, to force him to move or otherwise act. Standing around waiting for direction wouldn’t help them save the evening.
“Mark,” Lizzie said. When he didn’t immediately lift his head, she snapped her fingers.
“Hey, let’s get moving. Grab any staff you can find and then we’ll have to work on dinner.”
His expression was blank.
“Hey, Mark, now,” she told him, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down the corridor.
After a few feet, Mark picked up the pace and she let go of his arm. She found a few stray caterers and grabbed them to help. They reached the glass doors at the end and the scene beyond looked like something out of Lawrence of Arabia. On the beach just outside the doors, sand blew horizontally and the sky had darkened to gray. Lizzie pushed with all of her might to open the door against the wind and then immediately put her arm up to protect her face. She raced towards the fallen bistro tables that littered the ground and began to roll in semi-circles. Lizzie grabbed white tablecloths before they were trampled as Sam and his team joined them to start carrying the tables back inside.
Lizzie stayed outside in the storm, overseeing the commotion of rescuing the cocktail hour. Thankfully none of the glass hurricanes and candles had been put onto the tables before the weather had changed. When the last table was inside, Mark and Sam returned to carry the box of centerpieces and Lizzie followed them with the bunched tablecloths.
“Okay, Sam let’s use the accent tablecloths for dinner out here now. We’ll have to keep the tables plain inside, but I can race to the office and get gold chargers once this is set up. I think we have enough,” Lizzie began the moment the door closed behind her.
Sam nodded and walked away to oversee his men.
“Mark, you need to station anyone you can find outside,” she told him. “They’ll need to direct the VIPs to cocktails. Then you need to find catering and tell them about the changes.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked, standing still.
She swallowed her groan, she didn’t have time for explanations. She needed to act. They needed to act.
“I’m going to help them set up in here and then I’m going to start them on the ballroom. They need to divide that room up.”
Mark nodded and turned to walk away. Lizzie watched him go. She wanted to call out after him, to assure him that she’d been in worse situations and that everything would be fine. But then she stopped herself. He needs to understand the emotional rollercoaster of running a big event, especially if you aren’t prepared.
She grabbed one of the boxes and began running down the room, dropping off at hurricane shade at each table and then turning to jog back to fill each with glass beads and a candle. Sam finished directing his staff and came over to help her light each one, the room looked polished and pressed. Not as grand as Lizzie would have liked. Simple centerpieces on the beach still would have been magnificent because of the set
ting. I don’t think this looks special enough for what the sponsors paid, but there’s nothing more I can do.
“Can we set up more napkins on the pedestal table and have two bars set up in here flanking the entrance to the ballroom?” Lizzie asked.
“Yes,” Sam agreed readily.
He snapped his fingers and a couple of his guys ran over to get directions. He hadn’t been working there long, but he had the respect of the staff. Lizzie admired that, respect was the most important part of their jobs.
“Sam, do you think we could grab some guys to help with the ballroom?” Lizzie asked.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “What did you have in mind?”
“We need to partition the room. We need to make the room feel brighter, more vibrant somehow. This was supposed to be a candle-lit evening on the beach, not a night in a cave.”
Sam nodded. “We have a few moveable walls that could work and I think we have some lights we can set up to change the brightness. We also have colored lights that we can reflect onto the walls to change the mood.”
Lizzie snapped her fingers and pointed.
“Exactly,” she said. “I’m going to race over to the office and see what I can find. Are you set here?”
“Yes, I’ll drop off the wrinkled linens too.”
“Great thanks,” she replied and excused herself.
She strode out of the room, careful not to run and attract attention to herself as guests filtered into the cocktail reception. Lizzie’s stomach tightened and she plastered a smile on her face. She’d never let a guest see her nerves. Walk slower, don’t draw any attention. Deliberately, ambling towards the door, she strained to overhear any of the guests’ conversations.
“Wasn’t that wonderful?” A woman told her companion.
“A bit windy at the end,” the man grumbled.
“Not until we were leaving and look at how gorgeous it is in here,” the woman exclaimed.
Lizzie dropped her guard momentarily, letting the couple’s words sink in. She reached the doors and watched the first round of waiters and waitresses walk in carrying hors d’oeuvres on silver platters. Good, good, Mark had found catering. She slid out the door and collided with Mark.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Lizzie wanted to roll her eyes, but fought it. This was still his event and she was just the help. She bit her lip again and licked her lips. The cherry flavor had long since vanished from her nervous habit.
“Back to the office for every supply we might have,” she answered after swallowing the lump in her throat and the attitude in her tone. “Want to come help?”
“Of course, let’s go.”
“Great. But we’re taking my car. We need doors.”
Mark frowned and narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. They fought against the wind, struggling to move quickly or even move at all with the force of it.
“Do you think we’ll get a hurricane?”
“I don’t know about that but look,” Mark said, putting an arm on her shoulder and pointing out to the open sea.
A water spout had formed over the water. The tiny cyclone spinning on the waves reminded Lizzie of a science experiment from elementary school. But also reinforced how treacherous the weather had become.
“Come on,” Mark said to her, snapping her out of her reverie.
He grabbed her hand and interlocked their fingers. The gesture done for pure practicality, to help sped them along their way towards the car parked further up along the beach gave her goose bumps. By clasping their hands like that, he positioned her so that she had to cling to his arm as well to keep up with him. Lizzie didn’t want to draw attention to the intimacy of it. She didn’t want to alert him to the fact that she wasn’t pulling away or even that she should try to put distance between them.
Pushing against the wind added five minutes to getting to the car. When they did, Lizzie wasted no time. They both hopped in and she peeled out of the parking lot, racing towards the office. They’d been lucky to leave the parking lot before the concert-goers reached their cars. But she didn’t like to trust anything to chance.
She parked in their lot and kept the car running. They raced towards the office, Mark jogging ahead and opening the door with his keys. Lizzie pointed out a tiny door he’d never paid that much attention to in the corner by her desk.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You’ve never seen this before? It’s my supply closet,” she replied, pulling out boxes upon boxes of giant golden chargers.
She stacked the boxes on top of each other next to her desk and turned to find anything remotely beach themed that she had left. She grabbed a stack of small paintings of sailboats that had been used to designate tables for a wedding and were left behind. A giant box full of shells and starfish sat on the top shelf. Lizzie reached up onto her tippy toes to grab the box with her fingertips. On the very bottom shelf, she found rope and small nets from another nautical themed affair. If anything, her brides were consistently theme focused.
“Okay, grab whatever you can and let’s go,” she told Mark.
He nodded and they started running to the car. They loaded up in two trips, locked the office, and turned the car around to race back the way they came. Lizzie pulled up to the loading dock of the convention center and dialed Sam.
“Hey you’re on speakerphone and we’re out back. Can you send some guys?”
“Yep, be right down,” Sam replied.
“Where are we?” Mark asked, incredulous.
“Loading dock. I learned the layout of the place during all of my visits.”
“Very handy,” Mark replied.
Lizzie wanted to challenge him. He’d made her feel like her visits had been silly and unnecessary. Not in so many words but in his tone of voice. Even now he sounded almost sarcastic to her and here she was saving his hide. But she bit her lip. She didn’t have the time to deal with a blow up. Lizzie parked the car and turned off the engine. She got out and Mark followed suit just as Sam and his team met them.
The guys unloaded everything onto a dolly and they all walked back inside.
“What did you find?” Sam asked.
“A lot of random crap, but maybe we can make something work. I did bring the chargers.”
“Great. Let’s get those set up first and then we can figure out the rest of it,” Sam said.
Sam held open the back door to the ballroom. Lizzie passed through and Mark nearly kicked her in the shins, he was so close on her heels. Lizzie could see the partition set up using a third of the room for the event tonight and blocking off the other unnecessary two thirds. When they walked around the wall, her breath caught in her throat. The room looked perfect. Lights of alternating gold and rose brightened and warmed up the room, the cozy space looked inviting and special.
“Perfect. Okay, let’s get to work,” she said.
Sam nodded and turned to walk across and direct the caterers about the chargers. Lizzie turned to Mark.
“This is easy, in the middle of each table we need to put one of the little sailboat paintings and scatter a handful of shells around them. Artfully. Make the table look nice.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” Mark said.
“Just try. We only have minutes to get this right.”
Mark looked at her dubiously but nodded. Lizzie placed two starfish at each table. She finished first and then followed Mark, looping rope and netting to unite the found objects. With the lighting and the golden chargers, she’d hoped her shabby would look a tad chic. As they finished the last table, Lizzie heard a whistle.
She turned to see Sam across the room. He tilted his head towards the doors. Lizzie gave the room one final look and then gave him the thumbs up. She grabbed Mark’s hand and pulled him back behind the partition.
“It’s done,” she whispered and walked across the expansive, empty room.
“I’m supposed to attend this event,” Mark whispered back.
“It�
�s okay, I’ll get you out the back and then drop you off in the front. You can walk in like a normal guest.”
Mark nodded. He didn’t pull his hand out of her grasp and neither did she. They walked silently, hand in hand for longer than necessary. In the midst of the chaos, there had been a few nice moments. Once they’d reached the back door and were safely outside, Lizzie sighed.
“If I smoked I’d probably be pulling out a cigarette right now,” she said, stopping to sit on the curb next to her car.
Mark chuckled and sat down next to her. She put her hands on the curb on either side of her legs.
“I thought you did this all the time,” he said.
Lizzie turned to him. “Are you kidding? When I run the event we have a plan in case of emergency. We always have a plan.”
“I know. I get it. I should have listened to you,” he replied, his tone flat and almost sarcastic.
Did he not get what she had just done? If she hadn’t been here, the second half of the evening would have been blown away with the storm. The foundation would have lost out on a ton of money and probably wouldn’t be able to save face and throw the event ever again. He’d been motionless. He’d been helpless. He hadn’t reacted or done anything at all.
Standing up, Mark offered a hand to Lizzie. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. It’s the least he can do. He grabbed her other hand and held them both, the moment shifting, suddenly the air charged with possibility. Staring deep into her eyes, he searched for something. She shivered when he rubbed the back of her hands with his thumbs. Her tongue ran over her bottom lip in anticipation. The breeze picked up and his eyes clouded. He looked down at their hands, gave himself a shake, and dropped them.
“I’ve got to get inside. I’ll walk around the building,” he said.
Was he not going to acknowledge the moment or what she’d just done? Did he take her for granted? What was going on? She felt like he’d slapped her.
Time to go for broke.
“Mark, I need a raise and we need to hire another planner.” She raised her chin and looked straight at him.
He frowned, ran a hand through his hair, and turned away.
“Mark? Did you hear me?”
Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) Page 14