“On schedule. Garland is fixed, sound check is done, cooler dispute is resolved.”
“Good.” Elaine opened a folder and set it apart from the others. “Because I’m about to make your week significantly more complicated.”
Margot set down her coffee.
“The Lila Sloane Collection.” Elaine slid a photograph across the desk. “Have you heard of it?”
“No.”
“Lila Sloane is a glass artist out of Asheville. She makes ornaments. Not the kind you buy at a craft fair.” Elaine tapped the photo. “The kind that collectors fly across the country to bid on. She’s agreed to display her full holiday collection at the expo. Twenty-four pieces. Estimated total value around a hundred and seventy thousand dollars.”
Margot picked up the photograph. A blown-glass ornament, deep blue with veins of gold, catching light like a planet suspended in midair. Even in a photograph, it was stunning. “And you’re telling me this now?”
“The deal closed yesterday. She requires a custom display case, climate-controlled transport, dedicated security, and a lighting designer who understands iridescent glass.”
“In nine days.”
“In nine days.” Elaine folded her hands. “This is the centerpiece of the entire expo, Margot. If something goes wrong with this collection, it’s on us. On you, specifically.”
Margot held her gaze. She’d heard that tone before, in conference rooms and client calls and one very bad meeting in Asheville where she’d realized she was the only person in the building who didn’t know the money was gone. But Elaine wasn’t David. Elaine was putting pressure on her because Elaine believed she could take it.
A hundred and seventy thousand dollars in glass, during hurricane season, on her clipboard.
“I’ll make it work.”
The terrace was baking by nine. Heat rose from the boardwalk planks in visible waves, and the ocean breeze carried the smell of pine garland and sunscreen.
Margot heard Lila Sloane before she saw her.
“This is absolutely unacceptable.” The woman stood at the edge of the event pavilion, evaluating the empty display platform with the same exacting attention she might give a flawed piece of art. Tall, mid-thirties, dark hair in a low bun, earrings made from what looked like the same iridescent glass in Elaine’s photograph.
“The lighting is wrong. The platform height is wrong. And is that a fluorescent tube?” She pointed at the ceiling. “I was promised gallery-quality conditions.”
Margot extended her hand. “Margot Pine. Event coordinator. I’m going to make sure everything is exactly right.”
Lila looked at her hand. Then at her face. She did not shake it. “You just learned about my collection this morning.”
“I did. And I’ve already spent twenty minutes researching what salt air does to metallic oxide glazing.” Margot lowered her hand without flinching. “You’ll have a sealed display case with independent humidity control. Not the pavilion’s system.”
“And if the power fails?”
“Backup generator on site. I’ll confirm the switchover time with maintenance today.”
“And security?”
“Keycard access, physical key held by you and Elaine, motion sensor, and a camera. I’m also scheduling a walk-through of the full setup before the display goes live.”
Lila studied her for a long moment. Her jaw eased a fraction. Not warmth, not yet. More like a grudging acknowledgment that Margot had not crumbled under questioning.
“What I need from you,” Margot continued, “is a spec sheet for the case dimensions, the lighting angles, and your preferred temperature range.”
“I’ll have my assistant send it within the hour.”
She turned and walked toward the parking lot, a battered hard case clutched against her side like a shield.
Caleb appeared with two coffees. “You met the artist.” He offered her a cup. “She’s intense.”
“You know her?”
