4. Ivy
4
IVY
T he room was packed. When James told me I could have this massive space to do his planning and organizing for all the events he had slated for me to host, I thought I'd have more than enough space, but I underestimated what I would need. Kevin, my right-hand man, stood by the mood board checking out color palettes and swatches. Thanksgiving was an easy one—orange, brown, and yellow. But I had so many events, it only seemed fitting to offer each one my full attention and a unique idea.
"I'm not sure, hun. The lighter shades just aren't gelling with my vision." Kevin shook his head and stepped back, and I set my timeline diagram aside and stepped up next to him.
"I think it's great. I'm not seeing what you dislike. This is the same scheme we used to decorate the offices last year." I glanced at his expression, which was clearly a sign that he was grossed out.
"I know, but it's really so last year. I think we should go with darker browns and warmer oranges. You know the vendors are going to have a hard time sourcing things in this lighter shade." He clicked his tongue and turned to peer over the seating chart next. He was my biggest critic, but I paid him to be that. He really had an eye for this stuff even if we didn't see eye to eye every time.
I picked up a swatch and thought about what he was saying, and maybe he was right. I'd had a challenging time sourcing everything last year too. But I just loved the lighter colors and I wanted everything to be perfect.
"This seating chart is too complicated. You should just be simple, girl. No one wants to be told where to sit." He turned a skeptical eye on me and scowled. I might have agreed with him when it came to colors, but I knew my clients. A seating chart was something the Carvers did every year. I spoke with his staff, and I knew what his guests would expect.
"No, I don’t agree. I put this together based on every other party he's hosted. I know what I’m doing. I want James to look really good, Kevin. His wife just walked out of his life a few weeks ago and he's going through stuff. This has to be perfect." I put the swatch down and walked toward the stack of paperwork so I could find my vendor and supplier charts. If Kevin thought the colors I wanted would be hard to source, then I needed to get on the orders right now. Who knew how long shipping would take.
"I don't see why you're even doing this. Thanksgiving parties aren't your thing, Ivy. You’re a wedding planner," he said in a sing-song voice. He spun in a circle in a very dramatic way and sighed. "You love doing weddings. Why would you rebrand your entire company to do parties? One minute you're planning Thanksgiving for the wealthy, and the next thing you know, you're fishing some six-year-old out of a ball pit in a smelly, germ-infested playground for a birthday party."
He rolled his eyes and slumped onto the chair next to the roll-top desk in the corner of the room. James's decorator was fantastic. I couldn’t have made this room more beautiful myself, definitely not as prim and proper. I felt like I'd been whisked away by Mr. Darcy himself, and it felt charming and romantic. But I wasn't letting it go to my head. This was still my job, even though I was crashing on a bed in the next room over while trying to organize a half-dozen events.
"I have to survive, Kev." I frowned at him and finally found the list I was looking for. "Mike took the company name, all my directories, all my hopes. I need something to help bring in money, and when faced with the choice of an uncertain future with a mountain of marketing expenses I couldn’t afford or this offer where I have to branch out a little, it was a no-brainer."
Kevin's eyes rolled again and I wondered if he'd sprain a ligament. He had no clue what it was like to struggle. He'd been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, which made him the perfect right-hand man because I'd done wedding plans for at least ten of his close friends. Now they were all married, though, and no one was knocking down my door for wedding planners. I had to branch out. There was no other way.
"Okay, but when you fail because you're not into this?" His eyes narrowed at me, and I was insulted at the fact that he wasn't even considering my feelings or the situation. That made me feel like he didn’t believe in me.
"I'm doing this with or without you, buddy. I just thought you'd get on board." The day was wearing on me, and I was getting hungry. James and I had been having dinner together in the evenings because as a guest he felt it improper to let me starve. I didn't mind his invitations, which came every evening about this time for the past few days. It was nice to have another person to talk to.
"I just think you're wasting your time. You should be fighting Mike for the company, not changing your entire brand." Kevin stood and followed me to the door. I shut the lights off and walked out, and he stepped into the hallway behind me and didn't let up. "Mike doesn't deserve all that. You built it with your hard work, and it might've been his idea, but he has no clue how to do what you do. You should get the name and credentials."
While I appreciated what he was saying and fully agreed, I just didn't want to fight anymore. I'd done enough of that with Mike for the past nine months. I wanted something new, a change that would give my life meaning and purpose again.
"I appreciate your opinion, but I have to find my own way, Kevin." I wrapped my arms around his bicep and leaned my head on his shoulder the way I did when I wanted him to understand I meant no offense, but he was clearly offended. He pulled away and scowled at me. I was sad, but what could I do? We just didn't see eye to eye.
"Okay, but I'd just think your friends' opinions would mean more to you than some dumb client." We continued walking in silence, and I felt like speaking my mind, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to argue.
"Oh, Ms. Hart… And…?" James walked out of his office as we passed on the way to the front door. Kevin immediately tensed, and I felt like scolding him. James was a sweet man with great advice, and he believed in me. I wished my own friend would believe in me like that.
"This is Kevin," I told him, and Kevin shook his hand but didn't look happy about it.
"Hello, Kevin. I'm James Carver. Ivy is working for me." He glanced at me when Kevin said nothing and then he continued. "Would you two like to join me for dinner? I hear we're having delicious savory roast and vegetables tonight." Just the mere mention of the food made my stomach grumble. I was starving. All I had for lunch were an apple and a few carrot sticks. I was too busy to go out and get something else.
"I'd love that, thank you," I said and smiled at him.
Kevin's nostrils flared and he sighed. "I have plans, thank you. Another time. See you tomorrow, Ivy."
Both of us watched Kevin walk away, and I couldn't help but wish he’d have just been cordial. I hated that my client had to witness his being immature, but James turned to me with a smile and extended his elbow.
"Shall we?" he asked, and I smiled at him. I put my hand around his arm and heard the door click shut behind us as we headed toward the kitchen.
Kevin would get over himself soon enough. He was always a little hot headed, but he'd come around. If not, we'd just bicker until he saw me being successful, then he'd admit I hadn't made such a horrible decision after all.
Until then, I had a job to do and dinner to eat. And I was looking forward to spending more time with Mr. Carver. He had a way of building me up that I appreciated, and I was craving it after that interaction with Kevin.