18. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Jemima
I’m determined to finalize the schedule and complete outstanding orders for Saturday. As I approach Molly’s desk, I can't help but notice the deep wrinkle between her eyebrows, and her head bent low. Even the sound of my heels clicking on the floor doesn’t make her look up. What is holding her attention?
I pause in front of her desk. “Molly.”
She raises her head. “Oh, hi.”
My eyes flick to the paper in her hands. “Are you okay?”
She holds out the paper toward me. “Here… This was on my desk this morning.”
I turn it over and read the simple message.
I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I quit. Danny.
I feel a sinking sensation inside my heart. My stomach. Maybe both…
Molly tries to lift the mood. “I think it’s a good thing. His sales have been down, and maybe this is an opportunity to bring in someone with better skills.”
But I don’t feel like it’s a good thing. This isn’t just anyone; it’s someone who was important to my dad. It feels like I let my father down. Was I too distracted by Harvey to notice Danny felt neglected or threatened?
But he knew Harvey wasn’t staying. I struggle to remember the conversations I had with Danny weeks ago. I can’t remember my exact words.
“You found the note just sitting on your desk?” I ask.
She points to her keyboard. “Just sitting here.”
“I’ll call him and see if he’s okay,” I say, walking to my desk and pulling my phone from my bag.
I ring him, but he doesn’t answer. I call three more times before I send a text.
Me: Please call me.
I’ve never managed people, especially friends, so I head to Harvey’s office for advice. But as I approach, I realize he hasn’t arrived yet. Feeling defeated, I return to my office to figure out how to handle this situation until I can afford to hire a HR person.
I don’t have any experience in this business, so I’m solely relying on instinct, research, and advice. Each decision feels like a gamble, and I’m starting to second-guess myself. I pour over articles, watching tutorials, and even call a few local planners who are willing to talk to me.
Finding no helpful answers, I pull up my list and begin organizing the food choices for the gallery. My focus is entirely on the tasks at hand, the rhythm of following my list and ticking each task off is helping me organize my thoughts.
After a while, a firm knock sounds at the door. Startled, I look up and breathe a sigh of relief as I see Harvey standing there.
“Hey,” I greet him with a small grin.
“Morning,” he replies, a concerned look crossing his face as he furrows his brow. “Are you okay?”
As he walks in, I shake my head slightly, feeling the weight of my worries. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“This sounds serious,” he says, his tone shifting to match his expression.
I try to muster a light-hearted response, but can’t manage it. “As much as I want to joke around, it’s serious.”
He pulls out the chair opposite me and sits down, his eyes steady and patient.
“Danny left me this note,” I explain, my voice a bit unsteady as I hand the note over to him. Our hands touch, sending electricity up my arm, but I ignore it. Yet, before letting go, I notice his jaw tighten, and his grip on the paper becomes visibly firm.
“How do you feel about it?” he asks, his voice low and controlled, his eyes searching mine.
“Confused,” I admit. “I’ve tried calling and texting him, but he hasn’t called me back.”
“I get it, it's hard to have personal connections to your employees.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, scratching my head as I think. “But now I have to handle his workload on top of everything else.”
“Focus on finishing the financials first.” I keep my voice steady, controlled. “Once you’re done with that, you can worry about his work.”
“But I need to follow up on his leads,” I protest. The pressure of not following up on bookings or securing new work weighs on me.
“I’ll take care of that,” he offers. “I’ve already finished my tasks anyway.”
“Show-off.” I snort, though a smile tugs at my lips.
“Hardly,” he responds, with a casual air, crossing one ankle over his knee. The movement draws my attention to his outfit, a sharp navy suit that fits him perfectly. I quickly drop my gaze to my desk, embarrassed by my brief distraction.
“You took the hardest task and gave us the easiest ones,” he says softly. He’s right, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Guilty,” I confess, the laughter fading but leaving me lighter than I’ve felt all morning.
“I can’t decide whether you deserve a punishment or a reward for that,” he says, a playful rasp in his voice, his eyes dark and fiery.
My heart skips a beat as I meet his blistering gaze with my own, swallowing roughly. “Definitely a reward.”
As I walk the steps to the gallery, dressed in my black sweats and sneakers, I feel a rush of excitement and nerves. I knew formal wear wouldn’t be practical. I carry my bags up to the door and text Oliver to let him know I’m outside. We had agreed that I’d arrive fifteen minutes before the deliveries to ensure everything else was in order.
Oliver opens the door and greets me with a calm, collected smile. “Hey, Jem.”
“Hi, are you all set?” I ask, trying to hide my nervousness. I can’t help but notice his crisp black suit and bow tie, his normally unruly brown hair now slicked back. He appears unfazed. But I guess, this is his world. Unlike me, I'm still finding my footing with Recaredo Events. This is my first big official event since I took over the business.
“I hope you’ve got your outfit in that bag, because I thought you were joining the party after the setup.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to be comfortable while I ran around.” I smile, stepping inside.
The gallery is quiet, except for soft background music that leaves an air of sophistication.
I begin instructing the deliveries, and before long, I’m finished. Walking outside, I check the set-up for the final time. It’s a modern space with soft warm lighting, valet parking, and a red carpet leading to the entrance, lined with beautiful floral arrangements and sculptures. Inside, neatly dressed attendants hold trays of champagne, setting the tone for the evening. I shift a few lights to better highlight some pieces and make sure there’s enough space for guests to appreciate the art. Each piece has a plaque detailing the artist’s background.
There is a live artist setting up in the corner, adding to the intimate experience, with lighting that highlights the area without overwhelming it. The live jazz band is already set up and warming up. There’s a DJ for later, which was Oliver’s request to keep the energy up for those who wish to dance long into the night.
The black-tie theme is tied into every detail, including beautifully packaged gift bags containing handmade art pieces and small prints. Molly put together all the goodie bags, including tying ribbon and handwriting every tag. I start setting them up, ensuring each one is perfect. After checking on the catering staff and servers, I give them a rundown of the schedule and expectations.
With everyone in position, the first guests arrive, dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns. I watch from the sidelines as they each take a glass of champagne and head straight to the photo booth, where the pictures will be in keepsake frames provided in their gift bags.
Auctions and raffles for exclusive pieces are on the agenda, but the main focus is on the celebration of the gallery, rather than a typical auction. Guests will enjoy signature cocktails, fine wines, champagne, or the bartenders are ready to create a custom drink based on guest preferences.
Servers come out with trays of gourmet canapés, delicacies, sushi, meats and cheeses. There’s no formal dinner, just constant food so people can mingle while they enjoy the art.
Happy with how it’s starting, I move to the office Oliver let me leave my belongings in and slip into a strapless royal blue dress with a chunky bluestone necklace. The dress is snug, but it’s also ten years old. I wore it once to a wedding and it’s the only elegant gown I own. Since becoming a single parent, I’ve lost weight so I’d assumed the dress would feel tighter, maybe even too small. But, to my surprise, it fits just right, and for a moment, I feel a strange mix of relief and disbelief. In the bathroom, I check my make-up and there is nothing to fix other than adding red lipstick. I’m surprised to find I still look half decent despite running around. My hair is swept into a bun, and I twirl to check every angle of me. I take a big breath and exhale, ready to go mingle.
Moving around the room, I say my hellos and stand to the side. I’m waiting for someone I know. But there is only going to be Harvey. With a sigh, I spot Oliver and quickly check in to make sure he’s happy and there’s nothing else I can do. He tells me to switch off and grabs me a wine from a passing server, insisting I drink and relax. Once he’s off, I drift through the room, trying to let myself unwind.
Oliver taps on the microphone to deliver his speech. The room falls silent, ready to soak up the host's words.
“Good evening, everyone. First off, I’d like to thank each one of you for coming tonight. You all look spectacular.
“We have a great band and DJ, so you can enjoy the incredible collection of art and dance to the music. I want to thank all the artists for giving us their pieces. You guys are creative and talented and inspire a lot of us.
“Also, if you haven’t been in the photo booth, please make sure you do. The gift bags include a special frame designed for your pictures.
“Before I let you go, let’s raise our glass to a night filled with incredible art, good food and drinks, and of course great company. Cheers and enjoy tonight.”
We all clap and women flock to him and his brothers, except I can’t see Harvey.
“I don’t get the draw for the Lincolns,” a blonde woman beside me says. I don’t know when she came, but I can’t help but reply with a smile, “You and me both.”
“Maybe it’s the shit talking they do,” she says, winking.
I stifle a giggle.
She extends a handout to me; I can’t help but notice she’s not wearing jewelry and she doesn’t have her nails done. I slip my hand into hers for a brief shake. “I’m Jem.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Karley,” she says with a warm smile.
“Are you here alone?” I ask, keeping the conversation casual.
“Yes, but I’ll be out soon,” she replies, her eyes flicking around the room.
“Are you here to buy art?” I ask further, genuinely curious about her.
“Browsing. You?” she responds, her tone light.
“I’m the event planner,” I offer a small, professional smile.
“Really?” she exclaims, her face lighting up, and it fills me with a sense of pride.
“Then you know the Lincolns.”
“She does,” Harvey’s gravelly voice interrupts from behind us. Karley twists to face him, taking a step back before heading off, but not before giving him a curious look.
He meets her gaze with a quick nod, as if this exchange is routine.
I turn to Harvey, my breath catching at the sight of him. “Your hair.”
His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Do you like it?”
The blonde highlights aren’t usually my thing, but there’s nothing about him that’s typical, so I let how I feel about looking at him spill from my lips.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say, my voice soft, not fully trusting myself to say more.
He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”
“Are you going through a teenage rebellion stage?”
His lips curl. “No, I wanted a change.”
“It’s different.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good.” So fucking good, I stupidly imagine my hands curling in it as I kiss his smug lips.
I wish I wasn’t hosting so I could drink more and dull the turmoil of my feelings with alcohol. But instead, I get to feel every rush, pulse, and ache between my thighs.
My eyes drift lazily over his suit and bow tie, the dark green making his eyes pop. I lower my chin, trying to collect myself.
“What are you thinking about?”
His right hand catches my attention, giving me the distraction I need. “Your ring. Is it new?”
He spins the square silver ring on his index finger. “No, my grandpa gave it to my dad.”
“Who passed it down to you,” I finish for him.
“I think it was meant for my dad, but honestly…” He leans forward, bringing his lips close to my ear. Keeping my eye on the ring, I notice the Lincoln name engraved on top. “It didn’t fit his finger.”
His confession makes me laugh. I wasn’t expecting it. But my laughter is cut short when he inhales deeply.
“You smell incredible.”
My eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “Did you just sniff me?”
He pulls his face away from my neck, and I’m grateful, though he wears a proud, wolfish grin. “I thought licking you might be too far.”
“Way too far,” I say, shaking my head. “And weird.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t have been weird, trust me.”
His finger, adorned with the ring, skims my arm from shoulder down to wrist, a slow, velvety touch.
Needing to make conversation before my body takes over, I ask, “You never asked your dad why he gave it to you?”
He shakes his head, his eyes briefly distant. “No. I just love having something from the family.”
Trying to read his body language, I pause, looking for something more than the words he's saying. There’s a hesitation in his voice, but it’s buried under layers of calm.
“You really feel like an outsider, don’t you?” He inhales sharply, and we stare intensely at each other. I don’t think he’ll speak until he whispers so only, I can hear it. “Always.”
His hand reaches my wrist, and something snaps. He’s messing with my head again. I need to focus. “Let’s go find people to rub shoulders with.”
His lips twist knowingly. “Good thinking.”