Item Sixty-Three
Chapter thirty
Margot stared at the badge clipped to her lanyard. She’d watched this coming since the stairwell.
Pete, the security guard, held out his hand.
“Sorry about this, Ms. Pine.” He looked like he’d rather be doing literally anything else.
She unclipped the badge and handed it over. “It’s fine, Pete.”
It wasn’t. But there was no point making his day harder than it already was.
Jolene appeared the moment Pete walked away. “I’m running the schedule, but I’m not running you out.” Her voice was low. “You’re still on staff. This is temporary.”
“Temporary.”
Margot glanced toward the pavilion. A vendor spotted her, hesitated, then looked away.
Word had traveled.
“It is,” Jolene said.
She squeezed Margot’s arm once, brief and firm, then headed toward the kitchen.
Margot walked through the lobby toward the elevator.
Dana the florist gave her a tight smile.
Lou was standing in the kitchen doorway. He lifted a hand. “Hey.”
She stopped.
He held out a paper bag. “Cinnamon stars. Just came out.”
“Lou, I’m not really—”
“Take them.” His voice was gruff. His apron had three colors of icing on it. “You’re good people, Margot. Everybody here knows it.”
He gestured vaguely toward the lobby, the pavilion, the entire mess. “This is going to work out.”
She took the bag. “Thank you, Lou.”
He nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.
The cookies were still warm.
She carried the bag against her chest as she crossed the lobby.
Tessa was on the terrace filming.
When she spotted Margot, she lowered her phone and mouthed, “Are you okay?”
Margot nodded.
Tessa didn’t look convinced.
Neither was Margot.
Her phone buzzed.
Evan.
Are you okay?
Sent twelve minutes after Pete had taken her badge.
She stared at the message, then locked the screen without answering.
The elevator arrived.
By the time she reached the second floor, another message waited.
Caleb’s code was used at the marina gate at 5:15 AM the morning Cass was attacked.
Evidence. Proof that pointed somewhere other than her.
She read that message twice. Then put the phone away again.
The Evergreen Tide’s grand ballroom sat dark and unfinished. The chandeliers were off. The tables were bare.
A Christmas tree stood in the corner, unlit, its ornaments still packed in boxes beside it.
The room smelled faintly of cardboard and lemon polish.
She crossed the room. Habit more than purpose.
A chair near the dance floor was angled wrong. She turned it a few inches.
One of the placement diagrams had slipped half out of its plastic sleeve. She straightened it.
Near the windows, a stack of folded linens sat on a rolling cart waiting for tomorrow’s setup. She checked the inventory tag.
Twenty-four round tables.
Two hundred and ten place settings.
Three backup cartons of glassware.
Everything exactly where it was supposed to be.
A laugh escaped her before she could help it. No badge. No authority. Possibly no career. And she was still checking inventory.
Her phone buzzed.
Talk to me.
Three words.
Simple. Direct. Pure Evan.
Her thumb hovered over the call button.
One tap and she could hear his voice.
One tap and he would answer.
Instead she locked the screen and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
Two days ago, this had been item sixty-three on her checklist.
She’d had a vision for it. White tablecloths. Silver centerpieces. The chandeliers glowing low. The tree lit. The ocean dark beyond the windows.
That was what nobody told you about event planning. You didn’t just build rooms. You built futures. Versions of the night where everything worked exactly the way it was supposed to.
Tomorrow night, two hundred guests were supposed to fill this room.
Instead, she stood in a dark ballroom suspended between possibilities.
Success.
Disaster.
Cancellation.
Vindication.
She no longer knew which future she was planning for. She lowered herself into a chair along the wall.
The ballroom was quiet except for the distant thump of music drifting up from the terrace below. For a while she just sat there.
The badge was gone. Her checklist was gone. The title was hanging by a thread. But Lou had handed her cookies. Dana had smiled. Tessa had checked on her. Jolene had fought for her.
The resort hadn’t turned its back on her. Not completely.
Her gaze drifted to the Christmas tree. Dark. Waiting. Not finished.
Her phone buzzed one more time.
I’m not going anywhere, Margot. Whenever you’re ready.
She read the message. Then read it again.
Outside, laughter floated up from the terrace.
The gala was still tomorrow. The vendors were still here. The florist was still installing greenery. Lou was still baking. Jolene was still running the schedule.
And somewhere on the property, Evan was still checking marina logs and looking for evidence because he believed she hadn’t done this.
He wasn’t asking for trust. He was earning it.
She looked at the dark ballroom. At the unlit tree. At a room that wasn’t finished yet.
Then she unlocked her phone.
Tomorrow. Dawn. Dock shed.
She hit send.
A second later, the reply arrived.
I’ll be there.
She slipped the phone into her pocket and stood.
The room hadn’t changed.
The tree was still dark. The tables were still bare. Tomorrow was still uncertain.
But for the first time all day, she wasn’t standing still.
She walked out of the ballroom and closed the door behind her.