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As he turns to leave, I say, “Wait, Jack. Do you have everything you need for tonight?” My brain races through everything, trying to remember if there’s anything I forgot to tell him.
He looks at me. “I just have to get up there and talk for a bit. You’ve given me all I need. I’ve got this.”
Jessica swings into action as her husband walks away from us. “I used to be an executive assistant, so I can help you with this. Let’s take the list of people you’re calling and break it in half and work our way through it. If worse comes to worst, I’ll roll my sleeves up and help your caterers myself.”
I want to ask her if she’s even a real person.
I also want to ask her to be my new best friend.
Well, maybe not that. I’m far too loyal to the bestie I already have.
But seriously.
“Thank you,” I gush, releasing a weight of tension from my body.
I share my list with her, and we make quick work of it.
Fifteen minutes later, we’ve got enough staff on their way to ensure the dinner will go ahead as planned.
“I can’t thank you enough,” I say to Jessica.
She waves me off. “You would have handled it on your own if I wasn’t here.”
“Yes, but having you here helped me focus, so I appreciate that.”
“Right, I’m going to go and rescue whoever my husband is talking to. That man has a way of talking people’s ears off. If you need help with anything else, please come find me. I’m your girl.”
I find Mom after Jessica leaves and let her know the catering situation is no longer at DEFCON 1 level. The look of pure gratitude she gives me is one I want to bottle and keep forever. It quickly disappears, though, replaced by her strict mothering look while she directs me to the next task she has for me.
At six p.m., attendees begin making their way into the ballroom.
My job is behind-the-scenes, so I only catch a quick glimpse of all the beautiful gowns before getting back to work
Poppy and Seth arrive. She’s been texting me throughout the day, making sure I haven’t killed my mother yet. She texts me when she’s at her table.
Poppy: I just met Jessica Kingsley. I think she’s a mermaid just like you.
Charlize: LOL. Why?
Poppy: She seems fiercely independent and headstrong. I like her, but then we both know I have a soft spot for mermaids.
Charlize: Is Owen here? I haven’t heard from him.
Poppy: Can’t see him. Will let you know when I do.
“Charlize.” I look up to find a committee member coming my way, worry etched onto his face. “We’ve got a situation and need your help.”
I’m learning that when it comes to a gala, the words “a situation” never mean anything good.
This situation turns out to be the fact that one of the gala attendees just knocked a candelabra over, meaning we now have a table that requires fixing after the fire ruined the tablecloth and decorations.
I refrain from finding my mother and telling her I was right about the candelabras. I told her I could only see trouble ahead with them. She refused to listen and now, here we are.
At 6:30 p.m., while I’m in the middle of the candelabra debacle, I receive a text from Owen.
Owen: I’m running late. I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time to help you.
I don’t have time to reply to his message. I’m too busy managing decorations and people who need a table to sit at.
