Chapter 7
DREW
Iwas on the sales floor, checking out things with my eyes on the door.
We weren’t technically open yet. That’s why I was hanging near the front.
I wanted to see her and be able to let her in.
That’s it. That’s why I was pacing back and forth.
I opened the door, keeping my foot in it, and looked up and down the sidewalk. Nothing.
I was stressing out. When I proposed the idea, it seemed like the perfect solution. I wasn’t so sure anymore. I knew she was capable. That wasn’t the issue. She had always been sharp and steady and completely unbothered by the things that were supposed to rattle her.
She wasn’t the problem. The problem was me.
At the beach club I’d spent half the walkthrough trying not to react to her.
One cross-eyed face and I’d nearly lost it in front of Walter, who already thought we were unhinged.
This was work. My work. The store I was responsible for, the event I had two weeks to pull off, the brand that had my family’s name on it.
And I’d invited my best friend to be right in the middle of all of it.
Genius, Drew. Real stroke of genius.
“What are you doing?”
I turned around. Edith was standing six feet away with a tablet in one hand and an irritated expression.
“Minding my own business,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve opened that door four times in the last ten minutes. You’re letting the cold air out.”
I stepped away from the door. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Who?”
“My assistant.”
Her brow shot up. “You hired an assistant.”
“Just following orders from you, Edith.”
“How did you find someone so quickly? I didn’t see you interviewing people. I didn’t even have anyone bring in an application. Are you lying?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is this one of your attempts at humor?”
“I’m not lying and it’s not a joke.”
“No one finds an assistant in less than twenty-four hours,” she said. “Did you just hire someone at random?”
“She’s my best friend,” I said. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. She’s been teaching on the east coast for a few years but she’s home for the summer. I asked her to fill in and she agreed.”
Edith stared at me like she didn’t believe me still. “You best friend.”
“She’s incredibly smart,” I continued, because I wanted to get ahead of whatever she was about to say.
“More organized than I am. She’s got good instincts.
She was at the site meeting with me yesterday.
She took notes, gave specific feedback, helped me work through the menu logic.
And I trust her completely, which is not something I can say about a stranger I’d be interviewing right now. ”
I waited for Edith to look impressed. Or at least mildly approving. She didn’t look either of those things.
“How convenient that the perfect assistant just happens to be your best friend who showed up out of nowhere the same day I told you to hire someone.” She tapped a finger to her lips. “What are the odds?”
“It’s not a coincidence, it’s good timing.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, Edith. It is.” I dropped my arms. “Look, if you’ve got someone better in mind, say it now. I’m listening. Otherwise, we’re going with Kensey, and she starts today.”
She held my gaze for a moment. I didn’t look away. I’d gotten better at waiting her out.
“Fine,” she said finally.
“Good.”
“But when this blows up, remember this is a business. There’s a reason people don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“It won’t blow up. Relax.”
“When it complicates things, don’t come to me expecting sympathy.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I would never go to you for sympathy. And she’s professional. I’m professional. It’s like six weeks. It’ll be great.”
“Sure.”
“One more thing,” I said before she could turn and walk away. “Be nice to her.”
Edith stopped. “Excuse me?”
“I mean it,” I said. “She’s my friend, she’s doing me a favor, and she’s going to be good at this.
So whatever the version of nice is that you’re capable of, I’d appreciate you applying it.
Don’t be cruel to her because I made a quick decision.
You’ll like her. I didn’t hire her just because she’s a friend.
She will be good at this job and she’ll make me better, which makes your job easier. ”
There was a knock at the door. I turned to see Kensey standing there and my whole damn heart leapt. She had her hair up today and a bag over one shoulder. She was wearing a blue blouse and slacks.
I quickly opened the door and gestured for her to come in. “Good morning.”
She looked around. “Okay. I’m here. Put me to work.”
I laughed. “Someone’s eager.”
“Eager might be a strong word.”
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll introduce you to Edith.”
Edith’s eyes slid from Kensey to me and back again. I saw the expression. I knew what she was thinking.
“This must be your friend,” Edith said. “Edith. Assistant manager.”
“Kensey Blake.” Kensey shook her hand without flinching.
“Welcome,” Edith said. “I need to get the store opened. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
She turned and walked away without another word, tablet tucked under her arm. I watched her go and then looked at Kensey.
“She’s got weird energy,” Kensey whispered.
“She’s efficient.”
Kensey adjusted the bag on her shoulder and looked around the floor. “Okay. Where do we start?”
“Upstairs,” I said. “Come on.”
She followed me up the wide staircase that curved along the east wall. I’d always liked the view from up here, the way you could see the whole floor laid out below. The plan was to eventually open the second floor for more Blackwell clothes but that was at least six months out.
I pushed open the door to my office and stepped aside to let her through. She walked in and stopped. I watched her take it in.
“Drew,” she said with awe in her voice. “This is a real office. Like a grown-ass man office.”
I laughed. “Newsflash, I am a grown-ass man.”
“I know,” she murmured. “Trust me, I know.”
Did I hear admiration?
She set her bag down on the couch. When she turned to look at me, it was my old friend. There was a softness in her smile.
“I never pictured you with an office,” she said. “Not like this. It’s really good to see you like this. Motivated. Driven.” A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and she tilted her head slightly. “The boy I knew is growing into a man.”
There was something in her voice. Just the faintest edge of something underneath. A coyness I would expect to hear if she was flirting. And there was no way Kensey was flirting with me. I held her gaze for exactly one second longer than I should have, and then I put it out of my head.
I had asked her here to make my life easier. That was the whole point. I did not need to start reading into the way she smiled at me. That road led somewhere complicated. I had enough on my plate this summer.
“Sit down,” I said, rounding the desk and dropping into my chair. “I need your brain.”
She pulled the chair from the opposite side of the desk toward her and sat, crossing one leg over the other and pulling her bag onto her lap to fish out a notebook.
“Okay.” I leaned forward and pulled up the files on my laptop, turning it slightly so she could see the screen. “So we’ve got the Blackwell Summer event. Most of the big pieces are in motion, but I’ve been running everything in my head and notes here and there, emails. Nothing is in one place.”
“So there’s no master document.” She nodded. “Okay.” She clicked her pen. “So we’re building one from scratch. Walk me through everything. Every single piece. Don’t filter, don’t decide what’s important yet. Just tell me everything that needs to happen between now and the event.”
I started talking. She started writing. For the next forty minutes, I poured everything out. She asked the right questions. By the time I ran out of words, I was pretty sure her pen had to be out of ink.
“Okay,” she said, tapping the pen against the paper.
“I need to make a spread sheet that you and I will work from. Confirmation calls, vendor follow-ups, and all the other details. I’ll handle the things that don’t require your formal signature.
We’ll work from the same spreadsheet. When you do something, you check it off and vice versa so we’re not wasting time doing the same thing. ”
“Okay,” I said. “Sounds like a plan.”
I pushed my laptop at her. “Can you do it on here?”
“I brought my laptop. I’ll work on it later.”
“How’s your mom doing?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. “The arm.”
She smiled. “It’s mostly healed at this point. The bone is fine. But she’s still in the cast for another couple weeks and apparently it’s become unbearable.” She twirled the pen between her fingers. “The itching is driving her absolutely insane. It sounds like a special kind of torture.”
“That sucks. No one wants a cast in the summer.”
“She’s taking it out on everyone within range. My dad has developed an extremely convenient habit of suddenly needing to check something in the garage whenever she starts talking about it. It’s every man for himself. He leaves me alone with her.”
I laughed. “Smart man.”
She smiled. “But she’s good. She’s happy I’m home. I was worried she’d be upset I was going to work, but she told me to come.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop. “I’ll build out the spreadsheet and share it with you. We can both update it in real time.”
“You’re already better at this job than I deserve.”
“Remember you said that when you’re tempted to be demanding. If I choose to bring you muffins and coffee, I’m doing it because that’s what I do, not because you’re paying me.”
“I’m not demanding.”
We worked for another hour. She was fast and methodical. By the time she had a working draft pulled up and shared the link with me, it was starting to feel like something I could actually manage. Bite-size pieces. Color-coded by urgency.
“This is genuinely great,” I said. “Holy shit. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She saved the file and looked up at me. “What else?”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Get here a little early if you can. We’re doing model fittings here at the store. The whole Blackwell Summer line, getting everything sized and confirmed before the event. And we’ve got a special guest flying in from New York.”
She looked up from the screen. “Who?”
I smiled. “You’ll see.”