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“Of course. It was lovely. I’d have preferred you bring it in person, but you’re too busy working.”
Keith stifled a sigh. If he recorded this conversation, he could play it back and skip the actual phone call next time. “I’ll visit soon. Maybe next month after the resort opens.”
Visits were to be endured. Much like the calls, but he did both with frequency because it meant something to his parents. What, he couldn’t fathom. They were essentially polite strangers who shared a last name. They never discussed personal feelings or anything of substance. Such was their relationship and always had been.
“Your father is having chest pains again.” His father always had chest pains because he refused to stop eating spicy food, but his mom had never met a guilt trip she didn’t like to bestow on her only child. “Don’t dally, or it might be too late this time.”
Cara’s running her own business, which I know doesn’t impress you since you’ve never acknowledged how hard I’ve worked to do the same. If it didn’t sound so patronizing, I’d tell her I’m proud of her.
He longed to say the words aloud, longed to talk to someone who really cared about his thoughts and dreams and disappointments.
“There’s a tropical storm developing,” he advised, well against his better judgment, but he’d sleep better for it. “Keep an eye on the Weather Channel. Tropical Storm Mark. It’s headed northwest toward the Bahamas and could hit Miami after that as a category one.”
“Oh, they couldn’t forecast where a shoe was going to drop if they held it out in front of them.”
“Have a nice time at the opera, Mom. Give my regards to Dad.”
Keith disconnected the call and put his parents out of his mind. The loneliness the call had sparked wasn’t so easily dismissed. But that was the price of his lifestyle.
Ten minutes later, Elisabeth sent him a text message about a problem with spa services, which immediately sparked an idea he would have thought of earlier if he’d been on his game. It wasn’t nearly enough to balance his mental ledger, but it was a start.
Shoving away from his desk, he went in search of Cara and Mary. They were having a heated conversation at a conference table in one of the resort meeting rooms.
“Brides don’t want someone picking out their flowers for them,” Cara said, so sweetly he’d have thought she and Mary were lifelong friends. Except you’d need a chain saw to cut the tension in the room.
“They do if they come to Grace Bay. It’s a destination wedding, not a church wedding. The couples will not be able to select everything ahead of time.” Mary drummed her long nails on the table but the lilt in her island accent had elongated, giving away her irritation before she’d finished speaking.
“Honey, that’s what the internet is for. Put up pictures.”
“We don’t have the budget for an interactive web—”
Mary glanced up when Keith cleared his throat. “I thought you were discussing the mock expo wedding. Not the resort’s wedding services.”
“You can’t separate one from the other,” Cara said with a syrupy smile at Mary. “You invited editors of bridal magazines to the expo. They’re going to do a write-up of the mock wedding. Next month, an engaged woman sees the spread, thinks ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I want,’ only to find out the mock wedding doesn’t resemble the real thing the resort offers. How would you feel about explaining this discrepancy to Regent executives?”
Keith closed his mouth before it started gathering flies. “Excellent point.”
Arms crossed, Mary shot both him and Cara a glare. “Maybe you should start working on your explanation for Regent executives about the expense of her grandiose notions.”
He had a better idea. “Mary, I’d like a report detailing the resort’s proposed wedding services. Work with Alice to pull the budget numbers and post the report to the document collaboration site in one hour. Cara, come with me.”
Wariness crept across Cara’s expression. “I’m not finished here.”
“You are for now. I’ll review Mary’s report and we’ll reconvene in the morning. Thank you both for your spirited commitment.” He bit his tongue to keep from smiling at their scowls. Women and weddings. Mix the two and stand back.
Mary left to find Alice, and a quick text message to his admin explained the emergency interruption he’d just sent her way. Cara leaned back in the conference room chair and crossed her bare legs in defiance instead of standing so they could go.
