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“It does not.” He narrows his eyes. “You’ve got drones, a twenty foot snowscape, and a real-life train. If you want more trees and garland, we can add that, but thisisChristmas, sir. This is the ‘Wow’ factor you asked for.”
I hold back a sigh. “I’ll have my assistant Mindy get back to you with some notes.”
They smile and continue telling me about all the things that are not here, and I feign interest until it’s time for them to leave.
When I reach my office, I push aside the endless interview requests and pull up Georgia’s Pinterest account.
She runs it like a personal blog, and I’ve followed it since she left, even purchasing a few things in the off-chance that she ever accepts the offer to come see me.
I’m scrolling through her “Things I Wish Me and My Mom Would’ve Done” board when my phone rings.
“There’s a manager from Cartier on line one, sir,” my receptionist says, “Should I send it through?”
“Go ahead.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Reiss,” a woman says, “I was reading the celebrity pages and I noticed you placed a few rings on hold here for you and your fiancée with a “better do right by me” note. Would you like me to have someone come show you these options in person for you to purchase?”
“Excuse me?”
“Amy Prescott, sir,” she says. “Don’t worry. We’re sworn to secrecy at my store.”
“Thank you.” I stand up from my desk. “I’ll be right there to handle that.”
NINE (B)
COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO
GEORGIA
The flames in the lodge’s fireplace are dancing amidst a snowy winter night, and guests are laughing and drinking at the Hot Cocoa & S’more bar.
This evening is a perfect start to our resort’s official Christmas season.
Well, it’salmostperfect…
“What do you mean you don’t ‘think’ you’re coming into work this week, Rita?” I stare at the front desk manager, the woman who I thought loved this place as much as me.
“Exactly how it sounds,” she says. “I’m going to be sick.”
“How do you know that already?”
“I just do.” She coughs. “Something terribly contagious is going around.”
I roll my eyes. “Feel better soon when you actually get sick.”
“Thank you, Georgia!”
I walk behind the front desk and make the scheduling change. Then, I hear a familiar laugh that I would recognize anywhere.
I look up and see Dante staring right at me.
“Long time, no see, Georgia Grey.” His smile is as infuriating as ever. “How have you been?”
“Like you care.”
“Of course, I care.” He leans forward. “We have history.”
“It’s nothing worth remembering or writing about.”
