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“Can you handle the vegan and vegetarian menu options, and then I can meet Cosy and say hello to Harmon?” I glance from the caterers to Harley and Jackson.
“Yup. For sure, I can do that.”
“Great. Thank you.”
Jackson holds the door open, and I fall into step beside him. “How are you holding up?”
“Good. Great. You?” I run my hands over my hips in part to make sure they’re dry.
“Also good. Everyone is very impressed. The guests are excited to meet you and your sisters.”
“I’m used to fading into the background at these things, not being in the limelight. That’s usually Avery’s strong suit.”
We run into Griffin and Cosy first. She’s a petite woman with dark hair and an impish grin. “This place is amazing. Have you ever had a live band here before?”
“Do you mean instrumental? For a wedding?” I glance at her hand and am almost blinded by the rock decorating her finger.
“No. More like a rock band.”
“Why don’t you get London’s contact information, and you can email her about this instead of trying to plan your own event while we’re in the middle of one, sweetheart?” Griffin leans against the edge of the bar, swirling his ice cubes in his glass, wearing a knowing smirk.
She gives him a look that would bury a lesser man. “It was one freaking question, Griffin.”
“Thirty seconds after you introduced yourself, Cosy.” He turns his attention to me. “I’ll be contacting you by email next week because my wife is in love with this place and basically wants to move in. And don’t worry, I’ve already told her it’s not for sale.”
“I have a soft spot for Colorado,” Cosy admits.
“I completely understand. I can’t imagine living anywhere else,” I tell her.
Harmon slips into the small circle and introduces me to his wife, Lucile.
She takes my hand in hers and gives me a warm smile. “This place is truly magical. Jackson told me that you and your sisters run the hotel, and I must admit I didn’t expect you to be so young! What an amazing accomplishment.”
“Well, Spark House has been in our family for three generations, so we’ve had a great foundation to work with.”
“I think it’s very noble to follow family tradition. I have to tell you, London, the centerpieces are absolutely delightful. Are they made in-house?”
I explain that I create the prototype and that we have a team who replicate them, often using recycled goods.
“Do you ever make them for events outside of Spark House? Or sell them?”
“Oh yes! Actually, I have an Etsy store, and often we’ll put a few up for sale after the event is over. There’s a link to my site on the website under my profile.”
“Wonderful! I’ll be sure to have a look after the event.”
Avery makes her way through the crowd and is pulled in for introductions. She excuses us, citing that we’re needed, but that we’ll be back to mingle a little later. I allow her to thread her arm through mine and guide us toward the closest exit. “Is everything okay?”
“You’ve been gone for an hour, and it’s just me and Harley running the show.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“I know, which is why I came to get you. Once dinner is done we can socialize.” She sounds stressed.
We get the dinner situation sorted and trade off shoveling whatever food we can into our mouths before we’re on duty again.
Over the course of the evening, my sisters and I are introduced to one influential business associate after another. Even with all the research we’ve done, it’s a challenge to remember everyone’s name and what business they’re associated with.
By the end of the evening, the auction has raised over one million dollars. It’s an incredible success, and we have no less then twenty-five new business cards and a lot of interest from guests who would like us to host their own events, from birthday parties to team-building programs. It’s overwhelming and amazing in equal measure.
By midnight, the guests have disappeared to their rooms, and Avery and Harley are making sure the auction items are properly tagged and secured, while I head back to the office to shut down the computers and ensure everything is in order for tomorrow morning. I grab my purse and dig around for my phone, intending to send Jackson a message before I leave. I barely had a chance to speak with him tonight, and I’m hoping I’ll get an opportunity to at least debrief about the event, and maybe find out what in the world is going on with him. I’m about to pull up his contact, which has several missed messages attached to it, when the sound of footfalls momentarily distracts me. “I’ll just be another minute or two, and then I’m ready to go.”
“Not without saying good night, I hope.”
