Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
RUBY
The next morning I head into the office, but when I get to the parking lot, I take a critical look around. There are a bunch of things we can do to make this space safer, and I can't believe we haven't done it before.
Stephanie pulls in beside me, and when she gets out, I throw my arms around her.
"Steph, I've been thinking." I pull back, inspecting her with genuine concern. "We need to make some changes around here to improve safety."
She nods slightly, brushing off the remnants of last night's scare. "I'm okay, Ruby. I promise. It just startled me."
I let out a breath, relieved but still determined. "Still, there are things we can do. Better lighting in the parking lot for starters. And maybe some security cameras?"
Stephanie listens, her eyes softening. "Those sound like good ideas."
"I'll talk to Mark about it this afternoon. See what he'll approve for us to do since we don't own the building. We can’t just sit around and wait for something to happen," I tell her, the resolve firming in my voice.
Stephanie and I make our way to the commons area, spreading all our stuff out, getting ready to get started on the next project at hand. "Speaking of Mark," she begins, stirring her coffee, "how's the planning for the daddy/daughter dance going? Laurel Springs Elementary is still down for it, right?"
I grin, immediately switching gears. "It’s coming along. I’ve been jotting down ideas. We have to make this one special. Not only does he own our building, but he's the new Superintendent of schools, so we need to show up and show out."
Stephanie chuckles over her cup, steam rising like a hopeful spirit. "You always do."
As we settle into our makeshift planning room, with sheets of paper already taped to the walls, I can feel the energy shifting. The prospect of creating something memorable lifts me from the somber tone of the morning.
"What about decorations?" Stephanie asks, tapping her pen against her lip, the rhythmic sound blending with the creak of rolling chairs.
"Okay, hear me out." I lean forward, my excitement bubbling up. "Fairy tale theme. Twinkling lights, magic everywhere—maybe even a faux castle entryway?"
She nods eagerly. "I love it. We could hang those string lights to mimic stars, and cotton clouds from the ceiling!"
"We'll need volunteers to help set up," I muse, scribbling furiously on my notepad. "I wonder if some of the school moms would be interested."
Stephanie’s eyes light up. "Julia would help for sure," she mentions the head of the PTA. "And she has a whole Facebook group of parents who love this kind of thing."
With the foundation laid, we dive into the details. The playlists, the menu, the photo booth ideas—all those little elements that could spark joy, those pieces of memory that children and their fathers will treasure.
"Do we have a budget for this?" Stephanie asks, half-joking, half-serious.
I laugh. "Sort of." Providing the school board doesn’t throw a fit when we file for extra funds."
As the morning sun streams through the windows, casting warm patterns on the floor, I can almost see it all coming together—the colored lights, the laughter, the magic moments we’re creating.
Stephanie sets down her pen, her smile softening. "You know, amidst all this planning, it’s nice to be reminded of what really matters."
"Community," I respond, knowing these events are more than just gatherings. They're bridges, building bonds which tightens Laurel Springs. There have been enough things to separate us, it's these ideas and the coming together of everyone that makes this town what it is.
As it heads into afternoon, Stephanie stands, stretching lightly. "Lunch break?"
I look at my watch, surprised at how fast the hours slipped away. "Definitely," I reply, feeling the thrill of getting all this situated and planned out coursing through me. This is what I love about being in business for myself.
We head outside, the air just what we need to knock off the sleepiness that can come with a day spent inside. As we walk to The Café down the street, my mind buzzes with anticipation—both for the changes we’ll make to secure our workplace and for the dance that promises to resonate long after the music fades.
Our conversation turns light, laughter punctuating tales of past dances, mishaps with decorations, and the time someone accidentally played "The Chicken Dance" ten times in a row. Stephanie’s laughter is infectious, reminding me how vital these connections are.
Back at the office, the day unfolds, a tapestry of activity interwoven with moments of reflection. Each task, each discussion is guided by the touchstone of the morning, by the ideas of safety, joy, and community.
After calls with suppliers and emails to potential volunteers, I head over to Mark’s office, ready to lay out my vision for the safety upgrades. He listens intently, mirroring my concerns. "It’s an important move," he agrees, nodding. "Let’s make it happen."
Grateful, I find a renewed sense of peace as I make my way back to my desk, marking another step taken towards a safer, more vibrant place for everyone.
By the day's end, Stephanie and I find each other again, plans in hand and spirits high. "We did good today," I tell her, feeling the accomplishment sink in.
She smiles, warm and genuine. "We really did."
As we part ways, my mind lingers on all that's been set into motion. The security changes will ease my mind, and the dance will be a beacon of joy amidst the everyday hustle.
Driving home, the horizon painted with the soft hues of twilight, I reflect on the intertwining paths of work and life, of finding balance between duty and the pursuit of joy. And I am grateful—for the chance to create, to connect, to care, and to endlessly believe in the power of a moment.