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A non-stop stream of fans around us are doing the same thing.
Somehow Shawnie managed to get us these last-minute tickets this afternoon. I had zero notice about the impromptu hockey game and had to come straight from a meeting with a client at a wedding venue. Wearing a bodycon dress and sky-high heels isn't exactly freezing ice arena apparel, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the space before my meeting with the Hawkeyes owner’s wife tomorrow.
Marjorie Carlton.
The woman who will decide my fate.
A few days ago, I got the “congratulations” email from the Hawkeyes that my boutique party planning company, “Elite Event Planning,” is being considered for a five-year contract as the premier party planner for the Hawkeyes franchise. Only five companies made it to this final round, and now all of us are expected to present our ideas in front of a small panel of decision-makers in the morning.
The problem is, I don’t know the first thing about hockey or this brand, so when Shawnie got her hands on these seats, I couldn’t turn them down. On my way in, I stopped off at the souvenir shop and found the warmest jacket I could purchase.
The jacket is three sizes too big for me and has the number 19 on it along with the name HAYNES on the back, but it kept me from hypothermia, so it was worth the outrageous price tag that I had to put on my credit card.
“If you win this contract, will it be enough to pay for the adult living care facility for Jerrin?” Shawnie asks.
Jerrin is my brother, and at 26, he’s only a year and a half younger than me. He was diagnosed with autism when he was three.
“With our wedding season filled up and this lucrative Hawkeyes contract, it will be enough to make it all happen. But that’s a big if.” And it means I’ll be eating ramen noodles for the rest of time, but I don’t care… my brother’s quality of life means more to me than anything.
He’s been on the waitlist for three years. If I miss this opportunity, I’m not sure when we’ll get another one.
“Can’t your mom help cover part of Jerrin’s housing?” Shawnie asks, dodging past a couple who decided to stop in the middle of a stampede of hockey fans headed for the exit.
Shawnie already knows the answer. My mom works as a CNA for the hospital, and even with extra shifts, it just isn’t enough to cover her own expenses and the out-of-pocket medications that Jerrin needs.
“You know she can’t. She’s maxed out as it is, working every overtime shift she can get, and she’s already at the top of her pay rate at the hospital.”
“Did she apply for that Occupational Therapist Assistant program? That pays better, right?”
“Yes, but she doesn’t have the time or money to do it. If I win this contract, I won’t need her to pitch in for the new facility. The Hawkeyes contract will be enough to cover his room and board for the next five years.”
A ding sounds on my phone. It’s an urgent email from the supplier that they won’t be able to send the cherry blossom flowers from Japan for a spring wedding that’s only a couple of months away.
Damn it!
I find a bench to my right and plop down instantly to fire back. I can’t fight the crowds of rowdy fans while my fingers are drafting an email back.
Shawnie looks over at me, but it’s too late. The crowd is whisking her away. She’ll have to flow with the current out to the exit.
“Don’t worry. Just a few emails,” I shout to her. “Talk tomorrow!”
She nods in understanding. She knows I take emails and phone calls from clients at any time, day or night. It’s why we have such a high repeat clientele and constant referrals from happy customers. Our service and commitment are above the rest.
I watch as Shawnie doesn’t fight the crowds and moves with the sea of hockey fans.
I desperately scour the internet for a new supplier who can supply me with the flowers that my bride demands. Without these cherry blossoms, the entire wedding theme will have to be redesigned, and my bride will be less than thrilled.
Before I know it, two hours have passed and I’m lucky that it’s eight am oversees and a new supplier has confirmed that they can deliver on the order I need. And bonus, they’re coming in under budget.
It’s almost midnight when I look up from my phone and realize the only people left in the building are the cleaning crew.
“I don’t mean to rush you, miss. It seems whatever business you needed to attend to was urgent, but we’ll be locking up here soon,” the older man in a medium grey janitorial jumpsuit says with a soft smile.
“Oh…” I look around and notice two other staff members cleaning behind the concession stands. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. The name’s Wilbur.”
“Juliet,” I say back.
