20. Natalie #2
“I spoke with the fire chief, and it looks like the patio will be cordoned off for some time, which means no one’s allowed back in. I’m so sorry.”
“Is there a way to have someone retrieve my work tote? It’s leather and contains my clutch bag and professional planner. I have no way of getting back to Chicago without my wallet and keys. My whole life is in that tote bag.”
Hans nodded reassuringly. “Let me see what I can do. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Alone again, Natalie paced, her thoughts rolling like a runaway mine train. The feeling of needing to vomit returned when she considered one very real fact.
If I can’t get my stuff, then other guests won’t be able to either.
And they’re gonna come for me.
It’s gonna be a Google dragging all over again.
Natalie looked up, praying to see the calming face of her father. But the crowd had shifted and she could no longer see him, Kate, or Dash.
Oh my God. Dash.
The realization of his knight-in-shining-cowboy-boots actions set her insides aflame. He’d taken her hand. Pulled her to safety. Looked into her eyes with deep concern. And she’d been too stunned to respond.
Seriously, though? What would I have said? “This fire’s almost as hot as the two of us on your sofa in London?!”
Her phone buzzed with a text.
Kate: Where are you?
Natalie made another sweep of the crowd before replying.
Natalie: Still over by the ambulance.
Kate: Is Hart ok?
Natalie paused, deciding how to respond.
Still not the time to get into this. Give her the rundown later.
Natalie: He’s fine. Had to leave unexpectedly.
Kate: I have your tote bag.
Natalie: Thank God!
Kate: No, thank Dash. He snuck back in for it, along with my purse. We’re by the back gate.
Of course he did, because that’s the kind of man he is.
Natalie: I’m heading your way.
Kate: No, stay there. We’re walking to you.
Natalie clicked the thumbs up icon on Kate’s message, then sent a text to Hans to let him know her tote bag had been secured. When he didn’t respond immediately, she sent a follow up.
Natalie: Let me know when you’re available to close out our business.
“Nat!” Kate called out.
Natalie stopped typing and looked up to see Kate and Foster coming toward her, but no sign of Dash.
“Where’s Dash?” she asked.
“He snuck back in to get one more thing,” Kate said.
“And looks like he was successful.” Foster pointed behind her.
Amid the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles and the traces of smoke in the air, the majority of their party guests walked toward them.
The group split apart at the last second, allowing Dash to wheel a skirted table right up in front of Foster—his favorite cake from Beverly’s, safe and sound, and featuring a single candle right in the center.
Hans rolled up right behind him, a long brass lighter in hand.
He lit the candle and the group sang to Foster a second time.
Natalie caught Dash’s eye and mouthed the words thank you.
He replied with a subtle smile and nod of his head.
When the serenade concluded, Foster placed a hand over his chest and said, “Well, this proves two things: you folks will go through hell for a slice of cake from Beverly’s … and seventy candles would surely send the Nashville fire department into a tailspin.”
Two servers cut and boxed up slices of cake for guests to take home.
It didn’t take long for the group to dwindle and soon only the inner circle remained.
As much as Natalie wanted to engage in some last-minute networking, the vibe had been completely shot.
Not a single guest mentioned Natalie & Co during farewells.
Everyone had made it off the patio with their personal belongings though, thank goodness.
Fire crews had already begun decking the halls in bright yellow caution tape.
“I’ll be in touch in a few days, once reports are in and the owners have a chance to survey the damage,” Hans said.
Natalie nodded. “Not quite the outcome we were hoping for, but you’ve been a dream to work with, Hans. Absolute grace under pressure. This is certainly not a reflection on you.”
“You’re very kind, Ms. Powell. Unfortunately, as GM, everything at Terrace Oak is a reflection on me. But hey, we saved the cake!”
Hans added a laugh after these comments. Yet, the lines of distress on his forehead sang a different tune … while Natalie composed a song of her own.
Shot through the heart and I’m to blame.
Darlin’ I give event planning a bad name.
“Would you email me the names of the owners? I want to personally reach out and let them know how beautifully you’ve handled everything.”
Because I will die if you lose your job over this.
He shook her hand. “That’s certainly not necessary, but most appreciated.”
As Hans walked away, Kate slipped up next to Natalie and touched her shoulder.
“What’s the word?” she asked.
“Hans will reach out to me in a few days and we’ll go from there. Pop will have to run back up here to pick up a few things—that is, if anything’s salvageable.”
“He’ll be more than happy to do whatever you need. Me too. Just say the word.”
Natalie’s bottom lip quivered. “Not sure what I’m going to do about the jazz trio. I don’t have insurance to cover the cost of their instruments, or a dime to pay out of pocket. And then there’s all the sound equipment–”
With a reassuring pat, Kate said, “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. Check the contract you signed with Hans. Maybe there’s a clause—”
“There’s not.” Her head fell in defeat.
“When investors start reaching out, just bump up the buy-in amount to cover it. Ask for ten grand more than you’d planned to. That’s pocket change for a lot of these people.”
When investors start reaching out? Ha!
Not a single guest said a word about my pitch.
Not so much as a “good luck” sprinkled in with their goodbyes.
“I don’t think there’s gonna be any investors. No one said a word about Natalie & Co on their way out.”
“Because you’ve got to give people time to process. To go from beautiful event mode to terror-filled evacuation. It’s gonna take a minute. Wait a few days, then email everyone you pitched and go from there. You’ll see. It’s all gonna work out.”
“I sure hope you’re right.” Natalie blew out a breath and pulled out her phone. “I’ve got to call for a car and get rolling or else I’m gonna miss my flight.”
“After everything that's happened, I think you can call in sick tomorrow. Stay one more night.”
“And risk losing the one true income stream I have? No, I have to fly back tonight,” Natalie insisted.
The girls met Foster and Dash up near the valet stand.
The parking lot had emptied, though emergency crews were still in place.
Time to close the weekend and say goodbye, though Natalie cringed at having to face Dash’s blue eyes once more.
She'd avoided him and Kate for the majority of the party, giving only a casual comment or two in passing.
Playing Hostess-with-the-Mostest made it easy.
But saying goodbye was a different story without a sizable number of bodies surrounding them to buffer her uneasiness.
"Girls, I know I've said it a million times already, but this has been the best weekend of my life.” Foster beamed.
“We love you so much, Pop,” Kate said. “You deserve everything and more.”
“Sorry I didn’t quite stick the landing,” Natalie said with a sigh.
Foster pulled her body to his. “What makes a party special is the memories—and folks will remember this one for a long time. It was wonderful, sweetheart. A perfect ten in my book.”
"Made even more perfect by the fact that you had no idea, which proves we can keep a secret. Right, Nat?" Kate smirked.
Oh, sis … if you only knew.
Natalie glanced at Dash, hoping for a sign. A wink. A knowing look. The tiniest nod of his head. Their eyes met for a split second, but he looked away when Foster began to speak.
"See what I've had to put up with all these years, Dash?” he said.