Virginia easily pulled her key out of the lanyard she was wearing. “Operative word being if. What I want is to knock this out of the park. What I want is for you to focus with me. And what I want—” Virginia’s words cut off as soon as the door-opening ding sounded. A family of five got on the elevator as the friends walked silently to their shared hotel room / two-bedroom apartment that would be their home for the next six months.
“—is to get to December twentieth with my sanity intact. Can you help me do those things?” Virginia spun to face her friend, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
Sophie, true to form, parked her hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side while she simply nodded, silently. She held a gleam in her eye that said, I know more than you do here, but clearly you need to win this.
Virginia changed into her workout gear, grabbed a small bottled water from the mini fridge, and made her way downstairs and out to the semi-fresh air, as much as a concrete jungle could offer, anyway.
With earbuds in place and her music app set to her favorite eighties and nineties station, she set out on a run that would take her the eight miles it took to reach the most northern tip of Central Park and back. Plenty of time to replay her best friend’s words and glances from the previous two hours.
Together, they had long ago promised to always speak truth to one another, even when the other didn’t want to hear it. No true friendship goes anywhere without a pact like theirs. At times Sophie’s execution of such a pact rested solely on that gleam in her eye. She had incredible patience and would wait until further notice to dispense advice verbally.
This morning, the gleam had been quite enough for Virginia. Her watch counted down the three hours before her first team meeting with the group charged with the invitations, a task that would expand to include save the dates and some marketing materials.
Between now and then, Virginia wanted nothing more than to disconnect before diving into event prep for the next six months. Running took half of her rest time. She had cut a straight-edged path around the park and back to the hotel, stopping only when cars and cabs threatened to bowl her over. With every stride forward, every breath pushed out, every drop of sweat—and there were plenty—Virginia’s sense of reality seemed to come into clearer focus.
She could—and would—deal well with Levi. As friends. Not even as friends. As acquaintances and project collaborators who would work together to put on an unforgettable thirty-fifth annual Jackson Gala.
Pounding it out on the pavement, eight miles around her favorite city in the world, a place where her soul found rest, it seemed pretty simple: hold it together because you have a job to do, and doing that job well could catapult your and Sophie’s dream to the stars.
Feeling lighter than she had in weeks, Virginia cleaned up from her workout and spent her last half an hour before meetings galore sitting on her balcony, watching over the city like a third-party observer, dreaming about what could be the start of the career she and Sophie had worked toward since their lemonade stand more than twenty years ago.
Their two-bedroom suite, home for the next six months, sat on the twenty-fourth floor of the Jackson hotel, one of the most celebrated and representative mainstays of New York City. Furnished with a king-sized bed in each room and furniture that ran a blue-and-creams theme, the suite was nicer than anything she and Sophie would have ever paid for on their own. Even if something dramatic happened and she and Sophie had to go home this afternoon, the hotel room in and of itself would be a large portion of the dream fulfilled.
With space and quiet, and without the pounding or the smog and traffic in her face, Virginia allowed herself to relive the morning as well as—for the millionth time—her seven hours with Levi weeks ago on that plane.
Honestly, Virginia thought that the feelings of elation, value, deep longing, and intrigue that had sunk deep into her that day might have faded by now.
She thought that reason might have won out and that she could plow forward into the Gala with her head totally in the game.
She thought… well, she thought through every scenario except for the one that ended up being true: that she and Levi would be working in close proximity to one another for the next six months. They would inevitably share meals, late nights, and probably even have a disagreement or two. No exceptional event ever happened without a scuffle or two between providers.
If only their connection hadn’t felt so real.
If only she didn’t feel so connected to her work.
If only she had taken the later flight with Sophie. Not only would she not even have to make this choice, but she wouldn’t have sat on a stuffy airplane for more than seven hours.
Yet, little Miss Logical knew better than to play the If Only game. Whenever her brides started toying with that phrase, she immediately whipped out her big-sister persona and told them to get a grip, what matters most is right in front of you.
Could she heed her own advice?
Could she put aside the feelings she felt toward a man who calls his grandmother every day and wants to eventually adopt a senior dog when his schedule calms down?
Could she set to the side the jolt she felt each time they made eye contact?
And could she work hard enough to forget the surge of alive she had felt when he grazed her hand with his when they took their selfie at the end of that flight?
Truthfully, she did not know. Virginia May Sharpe would just have to do the best job she knew how to do at what she was hired for: planning and executing the thirty-fifth annual Jackson Christmas Gala.
Other women might let the other pieces fall as they may, but not Virginia. She would take every step she could to ensure total and complete protection from any heart mingling as intended by one Mr. Levi Adams.
Sure.
While her head told her that her plan was foolproof and that she was strong enough for this battle, her heart seemed to laugh in her face, all the while saying, Yeah. Famous last words.
Chapter 8
Someone once gifted Virginia a pillow that read, “I just survived another meeting that could have been an e-mail.” She had laid it in the back of a closet at her house, as it didn’t really give clients the “happy to be meeting with you” vibe that she and Sophie liked to put out there. Still, the phrase passed through her mind from time to time.
Such as at noon the day after the meet-and-greet, after five team meetings. While it was great to start planning, Virginia wondered if her go-to happy hour order—margarita with salt and sweet potato fries—was an acceptable lunch.
With hair slightly askew, Virginia and Sophie sat down for lunch to debrief.
“How have we already had five meetings? And how have they been less productive than we thought they’d be?” Sophie’s palm landed on her forehead and she leaned forward in exhaustion.
“I know,” Virginia said, rubbing her temples. “It felt like the meet-and-greet all over again. Same questions.”
Sophie’s wrinkled forehead told a story of its own. “I don’t think they trust us.”
“Who? The team-leads?”
“Yes. All their questions. They each seemed to think we had planned the entire event already and were just going to make them do whatever we want to do.”
Virginia evened a stack of papers she had in her hand. “I agree with that. I also think we proved them wrong by asking them for their own ideas.”
“All of which were as different as the day is long,” Sophie said, her wrinkled deepening.
Virginia set the papers down and grabbed her friend by the shoulders. “It’s our job to keep it together, Soph. They’re just as nervous as we are, never having done this event. We’ve all done high stakes, but each one comes with its own challenges, we know this. We can do this,” she said, shaking Sophie’s arm a little for emphasis.
Sophie’s forehead ironed out one crease at a time. She let Virginia’s words sink in little by little, and by the time they reviewed all of the notes from their meetin
gs Sophie was back in planning mode and doing what she excelled at: putting the fun into every detail and taking the big picture they were envisioning with the minute details that some of the teams had mentioned today, and figuring out how it could all piece together.
When both Virginia and Sophie were comfortable with what had been laid out in the first half of the day, they ambled over to the hotel’s restaurant and bar to order lunch.
“This is the quickest we’ve ever gotten started on a party,” Virginia said, pulling apart her rolled silverware. “It’s everything, all at once. Usually we work with these vendors separately and over a span of months.”
Sophie nodded. “It feels strange to call this a party,” she said.
“Then call it an event,” Virginia chuckled.
“That sounds so formal,” she wrinkled her nose at the idea.
“Then call it a gala,” Virginia told her, playfully exasperated.
“That’s part of its proper name,” Sophie said, shaking her head.
Virginia shrugged her shoulders and smiled as they sat down at an outside table. “What does it matter?”
“You know me, I like to have a nickname for our shindigs. The PITA wedding for the one where the bride wanted to serve pitas as the main course.”
Both ladies cringed at that one.
“Or the Frozen party, for that fifth birthday party where the parents spared no expense and basically wanted us to build an ice palace in the front yard. In August. In the hottest month on record in the history of weather-data keeping.”
Virginia nodded her head and smiled, following along her friend’s trail of event nicknames. “What about the Shindig? It’s a fun way to say fancy, and you’re nothing if not fun and fancy.”
Sophie giggled, a few flyaway strands of hair blowing in the slight breeze that had kicked up. “That works. Shindig.”
The friends each worked through their salad-and-sandwich combo in between conversation dissecting each of the teams.
The floral group, a small team from west Boston called Windsor Floral, ended up being Virginia’s favorite to work with so far. The lead florist, a free spirit named Janelle, arrived in a flowing skirt reminiscent of an old-time gypsy. Her long, brown-gray hair hung well below her shoulders and her hoop earrings grazed the tops of her shoulders. Virginia took a liking to the woman’s composure and her depth of knowledge in regards to floral arrangements for large-scale events. She also appreciated the fact that Janelle took on the theme of Old New York immediately. She had had the least amount of time between learning the theme and showing up for a meeting. Yet, she arrived with images of Christmas decorations from 1930s New York. She had done her homework and she had done it well.
“I’m least worried about the flowers,” Virginia stated. She and Sophie were headed back to their room for a one-hour break before their next two meetings: stationery and catering.
“That’s a first. Usually that’s what you’re flipping out about,” Sophie said.
Virginia stopped on the stair she had just stepped up onto and turned to face Sophie. “I do not flip out. I get a little fatutzt because there is only one florist I trust and he is usually booked. So if I have to go with a florist I don’t trust, I feel so out of control it isn’t funny.”
“It’s usually kind of funny, watching you huff and puff so dramatically,” Sophie said, her head cocked to the side.
“Huff and puff? Blowing straw and stick houses down are we? That doesn’t sound like the calm, confident event planner Ms. Marie Rhodes hired to run this whole shindig.” His voice popped up out of nowhere, startling both Sophie and Virginia. Sophie giggled; Virginia’s quick-blushing face formed a slow, contented smile.
“How long were you listening, Mr. Adams?”
“Only as you rounded the corner, Ms. Sharpe.” There was his smile, drawing her in.
“Are you ready for your meeting at two o’clock?”
Levi pointed one finger at Virginia but directed his question to Sophie. “Is she always this work-oriented?”
Sophie’s enthusiastic nod took her off the best-friend list for half a second.
“Thanks for that, Soph.” Virginia could pretend to be offended, but her persistant blush and half smile said otherwise. “So, are you?”
Levi laughed. “I am. I will be all yours from two to four. Seth will be with me, as will my assistant.”
“Sous chef?”
“Seth. He is a man of many talents, and I trust him. My assistant, Kelsey, is my right hand.”
“You’re going to need both hands to cook,” Virginia said.
Levi tossed his head back and came back with a hundred-watt smile. “I’ll be ready, Miss Sharpe.”
Virginia gave a clipped nod. “Okay, great. See you soon, then.” She turned to face Sophie. “Ready?”
Sophie may have snorted, Virginia couldn’t be totally sure. “Ready,” she said, opening her mouth to say more. Virginia gave her a look almost as strong as the daggers from the meet-and-greet, and, “See you later, Levi,” was all Sophie managed to say.
In the confines of the elevator, Virginia could ask Sophie what in the world she was thinking.
“Whatever do you mean?” Sophie asked, placing her hands under her chin and giving Virginia a doe-eyed look that would put a child’s attempt to shame.
“I mean,” Virginia started. She got that far before laughing at Sophie’s expression. “I mean your instantaneous betrayal back there. Throwing me under the bus like you did.”
The elevator dinged for their floor. “What? He asked an honest question, I gave an honest answer. You are usually focused on work. Regardless of handsome celebrity men standing before you.”
“Yes, because we have a business to run.”
“You also have a man—a kind-hearted, good-looking, celebrity-status man—who looks at you like he wants to drop on his knees and ask you for your hand in marriage.”
“Drama, much?” Virginia asked, laughing lightly.
“Whatever you say, but you know the look that people get at weddings? When they’re all dreamy-eyed and they can’t hear anything anyone says because they’re so focused on whatever they’re dreaming of behind those baby blues?”
Virginia stared at Sophie for a beat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ha! Yes you do. Sometimes the grooms have it. The brides always have it.” She knocked her shoulder into Virginia. “Then the couples who are in that sweet-spot of their relationship. It’s love and contentment and peace and happiness all ironed onto one face,” she made the motions as though she were actually ironing the traits onto someone’s face. “And that’s what Levi looks like when he looks at you.”
“Okay. I can’t have both of you working on this crazy fantasy of Levi and me being anything but collaborators on the fanciest New York shindig of the year. So, dear Sophie, please jump onto my side of the wagon and let’s get to planning.”
Sophie’s daring stare bet Virginia to make good on her words.
“Deal?”
A huff from Sophie as she unlocked the door to their room. “Deal.”
“Great. Let’s freshen up so we’re ready for our last two meetings. Then it’s Happy Hour, my treat.”
Stationery meetings go one of two ways. Either the vendor is incredibly knowledgeable but exceedingly boring—he makes his life working with paper, after all. Or, the vendor is knowledgeable and has remarkable, out-of-the-box ideas. There never seems to be a middle ground for stationery folks. Virginia and Sophie had met Amber and Louis, a husband-and-wife duo from Washington, D.C., at the meet-and-greet the day before, and had been immediately taken with the couple.
Both Louis and Amber were on the short-and-stocky side of the aisle. Yet, both dressed exquisitely, no doubt impressing Ms. Rhodes on their self-presentation alone. Amber wore her thick gray hair down; it sat just below her ears and as far as Virginia had seen her the right side was perpetually tucked behind that ear. Louis, similar in size to his wife, had wi
sps of hair, so few that Virginia wondered if he even knew they were there. It lent to his distinguished look, an air not often found in people who deal with paper. Amber’s eyes danced when she smiled and when she looked at Louis; his eyes crinkled when he smiled and when he glanced at his wife.
Louis had stuck close by his wife’s side looking less confident than she. Upon first meeting, however, Virginia and Sophie learned of Louis’ hearing difficulty. He had leaned forward and mumbled, “Eh?” more than once. Both were mature in age, disposition, and speech, and strongly held their homeland diction from Denmark.
For their first planning meeting, Virginia and Sophie walked toward the meeting room where they had met five other teams earlier in the day. Prepared to set up at their same table, both businesswomen came to a halt when they came to the door. The entire room had been transformed.
Stationery samples, all Christmas- or holiday-themed, were mounted on all four walls. The team-leads had moved tables to the perimeter and underneath each stationery sample lay matching accessories—magnets, small notepads and desk calendars, bookmarks, paperweights, pens, cell phone covers, highlighters, even day planners.
“Amber, Louis, this spread is incredible,” Virginia said. She was slowly walking around the room, taking in each of the choices presented.
“Thank you, Miss Sharpe,” Louis said. He still held a bit of a Dutch accent, having immigrated to the states as a young adult.
“Thank you. This is quite the display,” Sophie said.
Amber and Louis walked Virginia and Sophie around the room, explaining why they chose to display the items on the wall. They ran through the options, their opinions in regards to which accessories to add to the stationery package as related to how fancy the event was going to be, and with each explanation their passion, knowledge, and joy radiated.
“You have given us quite the list to ponder over,” Virginia said.
“If I may, Miss Sharpe,” Amber piped in. She had spoken just as much as her husband as they had all walked the room.
Behind the Scenes Page 7