3. Max
CHAPTER 3
MAX
M ax smoothed his tie and looked up at City Hall, where the gala was being held. The hall had been completely made over for Thanksgiving. Bales of hay stood beside the tall double doors, and the windows were decorated with handprint turkeys made, Max guessed from their quality, by local schoolchildren. Enormous pumpkins and ears of shucked corn with the leaves still attached lined the stairs up to the front door.
“Come on.” Stephanie prodded his shoulder. “Let’s go in.”
“How long do I need to stay at this thing?” Max asked. “I have more work to do this evening.”
“You’ll stay as long as it takes.” Stephanie nodded to a pair of cameramen who were taking shots of the guests as they arrived. “Smile.”
Max smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. He really did have a lot of work to do, and the fact that this gala was holiday-themed made everything that much worse. Max just didn’t understand why everyone got so excited about a few hay bales and some paper turkeys covered in feathers and glitter glue.
He and Stephanie headed inside. Most of the attendees had already arrived, it seemed. Max and Stephanie handed their coats in at the coat check and stepped into the main room. This, too, had been decorated for Thanksgiving with overflowing cornucopias, fall-leaf wreaths, and more handmade handprint turkeys.
“I’ll be networking as well, to help us find some good charities,” Stephanie said. “It’s important that you’re seen talking and enjoying yourself.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll see you around.” Stephanie peeled off to talk to a group near the refreshments table, and Max wandered in the other direction. Waiters were meandering through the crowd with platters of Thanksgiving-themed hors d’oeuvres. Of course.
“Can I interest you in a mini pumpkin pie, sir?” one waiter asked.
“I’m all right at the moment, thank you.” Max smiled politely at the waiter. He might not be excited about the food on offer, but he’d worked in a Bluebell Diner location for a while before he’d taken over the company, and he knew the difficulties of working in the food industry. He wasn’t about to be rude to the staff tonight — or any night.
A few people greeted Max as he walked by. Several held fliers and brochures in their hands or bags, and Max imagined that these were the charity representatives. Sooner or later, he’d need to start talking to people, but before the evening really kicked off, he wanted to find a quiet spot and answer a few urgent emails. Luckily, he spotted a free bench along the far wall and took a seat. There were a half dozen unanswered emails in his account.
The top email was from his father, Jim Grayson. Jim was the founder of Bluebell Diner and, although he no longer worked at the company, he was still involved in Bluebell’s affairs. Max decided that he’d look at the email later. He was already in a bad mood and didn’t want to make things worse.
The next email was from Stephanie and contained a list of charity representatives Max should talk to tonight. He went on to the next email and spent a few minutes evaluating CVs for his new temporary head of HR — the previous head was about to go on maternity leave and wouldn’t be back until Easter.
“Ahem.” Max looked up at the sound of a throat being cleared and saw Stephanie standing in front of him, her hands on her hips. “Is this what you call networking?”
“I just have a few emails to answer.” Max’s annoyance grew. He didn’t want to be here, and he wanted even less to be told off by his own PR manager. With a sigh, he got to his feet and put away his phone. “But I was just about to mingle.”
“I’m sure.” Stephanie didn’t look sure, but she stepped out of the way to allow Max easier access to the ballroom. He smiled politely, passed her, then swept his gaze over the room.
People were mostly talking in small groups of three or four, he noticed. It was easy to tell who the wealthy benefactors were and who the charity representatives were; the former were dressed in clothes that cost a small fortune, while the charity representatives wore more simple attire and, in some cases, held handfuls of business cards and fliers.
“You might want to speak to James Olson,” Stephanie suggested. She pointed to a man in a neat, if aged, navy suit who was talking to a small group of benefactors. “He runs a no-kill animal shelter that focuses on finding families for harder cases, like older dogs and pit bulls.”
“Actually, I have someone else in mind.” Max’s gaze had been caught by someone else entirely. On the far side of the room stood a woman in a long red skirt and black sweater that perfectly showed off her feminine curves. Her brown, curly hair was in a long braid over one shoulder, but a few curls had sprung free to frame her heart-shaped face. She was absolutely gorgeous and, if Max was going to talk to someone, he might as well talk to her.
Max bade farewell to Stephanie and crossed the room towards the beautiful woman. On the way, he took two glasses of wine from a passing waiter, thanking him politely. The beautiful woman was saying something to the man and woman she was talking to. They both laughed, and she handed over a business card before turning away. Max stepped in front of her.
“Hello. I seem to have picked up an extra beverage. Perhaps you’d like it?” He held out one glass of wine and the woman took it with a warm smile.
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“I’m Max Grayson.” He held out his free hand, and the woman took it. Her hand felt small and delicate in his own.
“Nice to meet you, Max. I’m Billie Stone. I don’t think I saw you here last year.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. This is my first year here.”
“Isn’t it lovely?” Billie nodded to the decorations, the food, and the guests.
“Well, some parts of the evening certainly are lovely.” Max grinned to let her know that he meant her . Billie smiled back, but it wasn’t the charmed smile he’d expected.
“Indeed. I too feel that the best part is the incredibly worthy charities here. Maybe you’d like to hear about mine?” Billie flashed a sweet smile, and Max found himself smiling back.
“All right. Let’s hear about it.”