Chapter 19
Mia
Too Many Choices
Being around Otto is stressing my nerves. Obviously, I can’t resist him as proven by the impromptu kiss at the bakery and after the game. Although both were a bit romantic. I folded quicker than a poker player with a pair of duces, fully participating and kissing him back. How embarrassing!
With the fundraiser right around the corner, I can’t avoid him. I need to find ways to keep him at arm’s length. I thought that having Nora and Madison at our meeting and at the game would do the trick. Boy, I was wrong about that. My heart still flutters when I think about Otto’s kisses.
Next item on the spreadsheet is to meet with Felice Bettencourt tomorrow at the Marriott to ensure we’re all in sync over table layout and linen selections. I’d prefer to go by myself, but Otto has the vision of how the room should look. The little green monster inside me won’t let him go alone, so I’m forced to meet him there. At least he didn’t question why I chose to drive myself to the hotel. The more I keep him at a distance, the less he’ll be a temptation. I shoot off a professional-sounding email to Otto after talking with Miss Bettencourt to confirm the time of our appointment.
Subject: Meeting at our Venue
Dear Mr. Stagmeier,
Miss Bettencourt has confirmed our meeting tomorrow at 3pm. I hope you will be able to join us.
Regards,
Mia
After I send the email, I’m distracted as I eagerly await a witty response from Otto. I try to study for my Trusts, Wills, and Estates class, but the words are a blur. I just can’t focus. My perfect GPA might be in jeopardy at this rate.
Bing!
The second the notification chimes, my heart soars. I quickly click on the message in my Inbox. Nervously chewing a fingernail, I read Otto’s reply.
Subject: Meeting at our Venue
Dear Ms. Robinson,
Unfortunately, Coach has changed our practice time tomorrow, so I will be approximately thirty minutes late for the appointment with Miss Bettencourt. I’m still in the doghouse for skipping out on that media meeting due to my inability to resist your luscious lips.
Looking for more Chapstick,
Otto
P.S. Floyd has flown the coop.
I fan my face and laugh. That man is incorrigible. But in my heart, I can’t wait to see him.
~*~
Felice looks as stunning as she did on our first meeting. She’s sexy, flashy, and glamorous all rolled into one. Even though I dressed in my best killer suit, I feel rather dowdy beside her. Ugh! Is she going to turn Otto’s head this time?
“Good afternoon, Miss Robinson! Where’s your colleague?” Felice says as she greets me in the lobby. We both begin walking to the Grand Ballroom.
“Otto’s running about thirty minutes late. Could we review the catering menu and discuss china and silverware selection while we wait for him to arrive?” I doubt whether Otto cares if I select the all-white, grooved pewter rim, the all-white, embossed rim, or the cream, with wide gold rim choices.
“Certainly,” she says, leading the way to the room where the china is stored.
My eyes bug out at the impressive array of patterns. “I didn’t realize we’d have so many choices.”
Her laugh tinkles around the room. “Believe me, brides vary greatly in what they want, so we have to provide modern, traditional, and antique patterns.”
“Let’s focus on modern. I prefer a plain pattern, so it won’t detract from our colorful tables.” Otto has come up with a creative idea to have a flower arrangement on each table, with blooms that match all the different linen colors. The florist is going to assemble them in brightly colored plastic sand pails, along with plastic shovels, starfish, crabs, seahorses, fish, and shells. I fell in love with the design as soon as I saw it.
For the next ten minutes, I look at more china patterns than a blushing bride. There’s an endless selection, each one subtly different than the other. How does one choose when there’s too many choices?
“Notice the gold filagree along the rim,” Felice comments about one pattern.
I nod. “I’m thinking something a little less—”
“Fussy?” Felice suggests and we both laugh.
“What do you have that’s understated, yet elegant.”
“Come with me,” she says, leading me over to the last cabinet. “What about this?” she asks, handing me one of the plates.
The plate is all-white with one silver ring around the outside of the rim. “I like it!” I enthuse.
She chuckles. “I think it’s a perfect choice. Let’s set a table and see how it looks.” Dashing over to the linen drawers, she pulls out a pastel blue tablecloth and matching napkins. I assist her as we drape the cloth over one of the round tables in the ballroom. We bring out a complete table setting of the china, plus their least ornamental silverware.
“There!” Felice says while we both admire the table. “What do you think?”
“I love it! Can we leave it set up so Otto can see it?”
“Of course!” she replies.
Glancing at my cell, I confirm that Otto is now officially running late. I wonder if he’s in more hot water with his coach than he thought. A pang of guilt hits knowing it’s because of me that he’s in trouble.
At the forty-five-minutes late mark, Felice and I run out of things to talk about. Maybe I should just snap a photo of the example table and text it to him?
I’m getting a little miffed. Surely, the man could text me to let me know if he’s still coming. My toe taps with annoyance. I’ll give him five more minutes, then I’m leaving.