Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) (10 page)

“Yeah, okay. I might be up and running by the time you get back,” he chuckled.

Lizzie smiled at him. Her face stretched into something resembling her usual grin, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes.
Maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe everything will be okay
. Grabbing her purse from under the desk, she stood and raced out the door. She drove home, not stopping for anything, even the tempting possibility of a donut or coffee.

Parking in the driveway, she left the car
running. Lizzie opened the garage door, and turned on every single garage light she could find. And then she did something she’d dreamed about for a long time, destroying one of her dad’s most prized possessions. As chubby adolescents, both Patrick and Lizzie had been subjected to daily workouts on the Nordic Track. Dad had been a lifelong exercise and sports enthusiast, but that hadn’t been a genetic predisposition.

Pulling the Nordic Track into the middle of the garage, rooted around her dad’s tool chest and found a hammer. Lizzie started to smash the wood. She beat out her anger at the sudden tragedy of losing them, her grief over the loss, and her most personal tragedy; that she had been robbed of them before she’d even gotten married. After forty-five minutes of splintering the wooden parts of the Track, Lizzie had destroyed everything that she could. Lizzie felt cleansed as she picked up the broken pieces and stuffed them in the trash. She dragged the carcass next to the garbage but couldn’t lift it.

She hadn’t let herself get angry about the whole situation. She’d been sad. She’d cried herself to sleep for nearly six months, until she swore she’d used up every tear in her body for the rest of her life. But she’d never let herself feel the rage of the loss until that moment. Maybe she should thank Mark for taking the job, in some strange way, losing out on the job
had helped her to heal. Lizzie snickered. No, she wouldn’t be thanking him anytime soon.

Lizzie got back in her car and drove back to her office. Everything had changed the day of the accident and now the life that she had created for herself on the island was threatened. She knew one thing for certain after everything she’d endured over the past year. No matter what, she had to keep moving forward.

Mark pushed open the door to the cottage on Wednesday and grinned. The smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the room, the lights were on, and the familiar tip tap of Lizzie’s incessant typing greeted him. He’d missed her on her days off. The office had seemed far too large, too cold, and lonely without her to fill the space.

He cleared his throat.

Lizzie lifted her head up from her work and grinned. “Oh hi, thanks for getting the new coffee maker.”

“I followed your advice and got the Mr. Coffee. And realized we needed a table. Who knew coffee could be so complicated?”

She nodded. “There’s always something. I did stumble onto another problem though.”

“You did? What?”

“We need to get mugs. I grabbed a couple of Styrofoam cups to use today.

“I’ll add
mugs
to my list,” he agreed.

Filling a cup for himself, he let the conversation drop. Two days in the office alone had given him a lot of time to think and work uninterrupted. He needed a lot. From her, from himself and he didn’t know if she’d like what he had to say.

Drinking from the Styrofoam cup, he observed her surreptitiously. Dressed in a soft gray suit with a lavender shirt and pearls at her throat she looked every inch the respectable, businesswoman. Natural light flooded the room from the windows behind her giving the impression that she wore a halo. Her cheerful greeting, the soft smile that danced on her lips while she typed, and her open expression gave him hope.
Maybe I haven’t ruined my chances forever?

Clearing his throat, he frowned, staring down at the cup as he walked over to settle in at his desk. He had had to walk over everything he needed from his old office. Lizzie spoke of maintenance in such glowing terms, he couldn’t help but wonder if they felt the same about her and resented him getting the job.

“Lizzie,” Mark began, turning his chair to face her after a moment. “I’m going to need your help this week.”

              He watched as her fingers froze over the keyboard. She held up a finger to him. “One minute, I can’t lose this train of thought.”

Nodding his understanding, he shifted in his seat. The arrangement of the desks side by side meant he saw her perfectly in his peripheral vision. She positioned her monitor on an angle at the outside corner of the back and turned her back towards him while she worked. But he preferred to sit straight on with his monitor and keyboard perfectly centered in the desk. She didn’t seem to notice or be distracted by his presence at all. Mark was aware of every tiny flinch, every word she muttered aloud, every shift in her body. And as he watched her finish typing he saw the tension in her shoulders creep up until the crick in her neck looked painful.

She turned to face him and gave him an expectant look. It wasn’t a smile, it wasn’t a scowl, rather her hesitancy told him to get on with his news already. Mark cleared his throat again.

“As you know, the concert benefit for the foundation is only a month away. I need your help with consolidating the guest lists I’ve received from the major corporate sponsors.”

“I can handle that,” she readily agreed with a nod.

“Right, well,
this is going to be a little
different from your typical event.” He cleared his throat. Her brows had knit together at the word ‘your.’
I didn’t mean her event directly, I meant more of a universal you. Don’t step on her toes. You need help. You need her help.

A bride had stumbled into the office the day before, desperate for answers Mark couldn’t provide. She’d peppered him with question after question. All he could do was smile and nod and write down everything she’d said to him. He’d stared at the door, desperate for Lizzie’s bright smile to save the day. His ineptitude had increased the bride’s agitation and nerves.

“What makes the event different from one of mine?” she asked, the question bringing him back to attention. An arched eyebrow only indicated interest but the crossed arms gave him pause.

“I didn’t mean it… I meant… That came out wrong. I’m sorry.” He stopped and waited for her to acknowledge his lame apology. He hated the relationship that had formed between them since he’d started as the Manager of Special Events. As much as he knew he needed to put distance between them, he abhorred it all the same.

Her hair shone in the bright sunlight that streamed in through the windows behind their desks. He wanted to reach out and wrap his hand around the thick mahogany ponytail that draped down her back. Would it feel smooth against his hand?

Nodding and offering him a half-smile of understanding, he continued.

“I need help confirming the RSVPs. I need a breakdown of the guest list by company of who is coming, how many, what events they are ticketed for, and what table they are seated at. I need all of this in one spreadsheet by Friday.”

“Why so soon?”

“We need the final numbers for catering for the cocktail reception and the dinner and beach bonfire.”

“Have you received all the RSVPs?”

“No,” Mark shook his head. Pulling open his top drawer, he grabbed the stress ball and clenched in in his right fist. “I need you to start on this and get
everything confirmed with the heads of the event department for each company.”

She knit her brow. “That sounds like a lot of phone tag.”

“Probably.”

“Why do you need this in a spreadsheet? We’ve always run them on a regular document.”

“But then you can’t sort them. After the event, we need to be able to add details about the guests like if they made any donations personally. Then we can send the foundation the details for thank you’s and their annual campaign mailing list.”

“We? I don’t know when I’m going to have time for that Mark. Wedding season is picking up now.”

Gripping the ball even tighter, he waited. His hands were full coordinating the concert, cocktail reception, and dinner with the venue. Although, now that he considered it, he could probably use her help there too.
No, don’t. You’re already asking too much, don’t push it.

“Do you have the guests’ personal addresses?” she asked.

“No, that’s something I’ll need you to do too.”

Putting her chin in her hand and knitting her brows together, her eyebrows formed a near perfect horizontal line.

“I have a lot on my plate Lizzie. I wouldn’t be asking so much of you if I didn’t need the help.”

“Mark, we can’t take this all on. We need help. We need more staff. But in the meantime, call the foundation. Give them the same information you’re giving me. They can handle getting personal addresses, writing thank you notes, and whatever else they want you to do. They’re asking you to do their job.”

You.
She’d switched back and forth from the royal we to referring to him as his own entity. Did she see them as separate departments?

“I’m pretty swamped this week,” she continued. “Do you really need the RSVPs so soon? I have two walk-throughs, three rehearsals, and three weddings. I’ll practically be living here with my schedule alone.”

“Yes, I do. I need this by Friday.”

“Okay, I guess I’m going to have to jump into this today.” She sighed and swiveled her chair away from him, facing back towards her computer.

“Thanks Lizzie. And, since you brought up the walk-throughs,” he began.

Opening his top drawer, he dropped the beaten stress ball and pulled out a sheet of paper. He’d printed off a price list for her the day before. He hadn’t been quite sure how he’d bring
up what he’d done. He did not want to step on her toes, but since she gave him the segue he’d jump in.

“I was looking over the current prices,” he began, slowly her chair turned around to face him. The cheer of the office mate he’d stumbled upon this morning evaporated. “And I think you could reasonably raise the location fees as I’ve indicated.”

She eyed him but put her hand out for the sheet. He handed
it over and watched her scan the sheet and then shake her head.

“These prices are nearly double our current rates. I can’t imagine anyone would go for these.”

“But your current rates were set over two years ago and you are booking weddings for nearly two years from now. I think you’d be surprised what clients will pay. This is the Resort on Jekyll Island. It has history, beauty, and prestige. It’s okay to have rates consistent with that.”

She bit her lip and stared at the paper as if he’d written in a foreign language.

“Look, I did research on other venues of the same caliber and these prices are still below theirs. I don’t think we’ll lose our market, but maybe we’ll gain a higher end clientele,” he continued.

“But the guests coming today have seen the prices on the Internet already.”

“If they balk, you can always tell them that website hasn’t been updated for a couple years. Which is sadly true. That was something else I thought I’d mention…” he trailed off.

How far he could insert himself into her affairs? He didn’t know how to handle people. Stoking the anxiety of the bride the day before had only confirmed that for him. But he knew this. He knew numbers and he wanted her to be confident in those numbers too.
She’s selling herself too short. The events she throws are worth double these prices
.

“You have worked on beautiful events, but the website does not show it. I’d be happy to help you talk to development about updating your website. Not that you need any help. What I mean is, if you want to talk about ideas, I’m here to be a sounding board.”

“I don’t know when I’m going to have time for a website overhaul, but I’ll keep it
in mind,” she said and sighed.

Mark nodded his head.

“Can I keep this?” she asked, holding up the sheet.

“Sure,” he agreed.

The conversation had gone much better than he’d have thought. She turned away from him and started typing again. 

* * * * *

Just keep typing
and don’t react
. But Lizzie couldn’t keep from biting her lip. She should have packed a duffle bag and resigned herself to move in for the week. At this rate, she’d be in the same outfit for at least twenty-four hours. Lizzie shifted in her chair, already feeling constrained by the suit skirt and jacket that usually made her feel lucky and powerful. She’d never lost out on booking a wedding while wearing it.

There’s a first time for everything
she reminded herself.

The only thing she missed about having the office to herself was losing the ability to speak aloud without looking or sounding like a crazy person. She worked hard to stay silent at her desk, but she knew the occasional word had to slip her treacherous tongue. She only hoped none of those betrayed her thoughts, especially about this situation.

She blew a strand of hair out of her face. Probably he was right about the prices. In fact, she knew he was. She’d let herself get caught up in staying busy instead of looking towards the future. She’d been handed the reins of the department by default without truly understanding what
running events meant. But she was eager and ready to learn and she’d prove she was up to the task of being a manager.

As for the other task handed to her, she couldn’t imagine she’d have time to play phone tag with various clients all week. She’d have to stay late and get all the information sorted that night. An alarm popped up on her screen mid-email. Her first walk-through would arrive in ten minutes.

Turning off her monitor, she grabbed a pen from her cup, and walked to the binders to grab the last blank one. Every binder was filled with the same initial questionnaire, packets and brochures about the island and the resort to hand to the clients, and contracts for their review. She liked having the information readily accessible and she wanted information on any prospective wedding or event that walked through the door. Even if they lost a client, she still wanted to have all the requisite information.

Sitting in the bottom desk drawer were the binders of the client’s they’d lost. One day, she told sort through to see if there were any common reasons why they lost clients. Not that she’d lost more than a few.

Turning around to stare at her companion as he worked, she bit her lip. Did she need to tell him where she was heading? She hadn’t needed to tell anyone anything about her movements at work.
Is he my boss now? My superior? Do I have to constantly ask his permission to leave?

“Okay, I’m off,” Lizzie announced and blushed from head to toe. Despite her power suit she felt incredibly silly.

“Do you need this?” he asked, waving the new price list in the air.

“Oh right,” she replied and walked back to grab the paper. “I’ll be gone for about an hour. Do you think you could give me the information you have so far and who you want me to contact?”

“Already did.”

She looked to her desk but the top
remained empty and she frowned. “You did?”

“Everything’s digital for me, remember?”

“Yeah, that’s going to take me some getting used to,” she muttered.