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“I hope this doesn’t alarm you at all but…no, I haven’t. I mean I’ve tried to think of something, looked online at winning entries from the past, picked a few styles that appeal to me, but I just have the feeling I’m gonna do something totally unique and I have to wait for the moment to see what it’ll be.”
And yes, I am slightly alarmed…but no, not terribly. I trust Maxine’s ability, and I like her Zen attitude about in-the-moment design. Granted, I’d be more thrilled if she had something planned out that she could share with me and get my professional opinion on. But she probably wants the money as badly as I want the plaque, so I expect that when the time comes…she’ll give it her all.
“Well…you’ve done your research and that’s about all you can do. I think you’re wise to allow some room for spontaneity,” I tell her warmly, trusting she’ll do her best and do it well.
***
By five we’ve checked into our suite, and I’m perfectly pleased with it. It offers me a completely private bedroom, apart from the living room pull-out Maxine will be on. She’s already rushed off to the newcomer’s meet-and-greet in a sparkly, pink dress that I think is a tad overdone for the occasion. I zip open my garment bag and carefully hang up the dresses I brought, mulling over which one to wear to tonight’s party. I’m not in a frivolous mood and I need to get into it, but I think I’ll settle for a long, comfortable, cotton wraparound. Aiming to be fashionably late, I spend a good while touching up my makeup. Then, buckling on a pair of low platforms, I’m ready to go.
For the first time, I feel some nervousness setting in as I stand before the full-length bathroom mirror. Adding a couple inches, I’m about five foot ten in these sandals. It’s been days since I actually indulged in looking forward to this weekend, much less thought about the prospect of meeting Bo. And with Quade’s complete personality shift, the last thing I should even consider is looking for a man. In fact, I feel cold feet at the mere thought of it. How foolish of me to flirt on the phone like that. Of course, at the time I had no idea he’d be attending the conference this year. I’d have never engaged in such behavior, had I known.
Oh well, at least I’m dressed more modestly than someone whose name I won’t mention. I’m just going to suck up and walk in there, mix into the crowd and relax for once. And tomorrow I’ll search out Big Bo’s booth and introduce myself with politeness and professionalism. He’ll find out what I’m made of…not some silly hussie flowergirl you can toy with over the phone. Enough with that already.
Grateful to all that is sacred for no more messages from Quade, I meander toward the convention center and find it too brightly lit and already roaring with conversation. Strangely trembling, I make a beeline for the refreshment table and practically stumble into Maxine along the way.
“Yay…glad you’re here!” she says in a tone that’s too cheery for me just yet.
“Yep…made it. Have you made any new friends yet?” I ask, hoping she’ll take the hint not to hang around me all weekend.
“Oh, you know…everyone’s super nice but I haven’t exchanged contact info or anything.”
“Well you look gorgeous. You just work the room a little and they’ll be following you around like puppies,” I tell her in all honesty. Yes, the sparkly dress is a little Britney Spears for my taste, but she wears it like a charm.
I pretend not to hear Maxine’s reply, and hustle off toward the drinks. She’ll find her feet eventually. I’m not here to babysit. I dip into a large, crystal bowl full of champagne punch, and ladle myself a full glass. The longest week of my life ends right here, right now, with the comfort of this perfect deliciousness.
“Fiona!” I turn around to see Zoey Norton, a sweet fellow florist who comes most years. “How are you? You look beautiful!” she says, giving me a half hug while balancing her punch.
“I’m great Zoey, how are you?” I lie.
“Oh you know…living the good life! Have you met Cora Lee?” She introduces me to another friendly yet equally vapid looking gal, and we gently take hands as we visibly size each other up.
One hour and two drinks later, I am maximally taxed on meaningless conversation. Again I’m longing for Holly, for someone I can really talk to. I want to stand in the middle of this room and scream for help over the top of everyone else’s rambling. Maxine seems particularly intelligent, like someone I could confide in and take advice from. But there’s no way it would be appropriate to involve her in anything going on with me. I’m resigned to playing the socialite game for the rest of the weekend, then going back home to discuss my relationship with a lunatic. So I may as well make the very most of the next two days.
On my way back to the punch bowl, I scan the room for pink sparkles and spot Maxine way off in a corner… surrounded by about five chattering women. She’s in good hands; I can relax. As I turn back around to continue on my champagne punch quest, I collide with another familiar face.
“Fiona Turner…so good to see you! How are you?”
“I’m good Lenore. Business has been booming this year. How are you?”
“All good here. I’ve had a good quarter especially… business is blooming!”
As Lenore bursts out laughing at her staggeringly humorous pun, I notice a very tall man gazing at me from a neighboring group of people. I can’t tell whether he’s engaged with the group or just standing alone at their perimeter, but it appears he can’t take his eyes off me.
“Are you attending the digital marketing series tomorrow?” Lenore asks as I toss the man a half-smile before returning my attention to her.
“Yes, probably. It’s so critical in today’s business climate.”
“Oh I know, but it gives me a headache. Anyway…I’ll be there too. See you tomorrow then.” We give each other the pat-hug, and I’m back to my pursuit of cocktail.
I dole out another coy smile for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome as I brush close by on my way, then turn to peek over my shoulder while I pour my glass. Okay, he’s definitely not engaging with any group, and in fact looks a little out of sorts. I don’t want to say awkward, but. I don’t blame him one bit. Not everyone’s cut out for all this tomfoolery. My only question is, what is he doing here? Surely he’s not a florist. Or a marketing coach. Or a board member. He stands out like a lion in a cat shelter.
I quickly look away as he turns his head and catches me staring. Oh well, two can play. After a minute of sipping and scanning the crowd for friends, I subtly glimpse in his direction to find him gone. Feeling some combination of relief and vague disappointment, I file back through the throngs in the direction of Zoey until a veritable brick wall steps into my path.
“Fiona?” he asks in a husky voice that matches his face. “Fiona Turner?” My world turns upside down, again, as it dawns on me where I’ve heard that voice.
“Big Bo?” My mouth opens wide as I stare at him like a crazed woman. I cannot believe what I am seeing.
“Bo’s my name,” he says with a big smile. “Great to finally meet ya.” He clinks his glass delicately against mine as I continue to stare, mesmerized.
