8. Marnie
CHAPTER EIGHT
Marnie
Exactly one week after my first day, I am back in Josie’s office for my exhibit proposal. Though I feel confident and excited about my ideas for this exhibit, I can’t ignore the growing pit in my stomach and slight shake of my hand as I present the folder to Josie.
The mid-afternoon sun casts light all around her office, adding a glow to an already bright room. It’s a fitting visual representation of the office’s occupant. Shiny, pleasant, sincere—the complete opposite of the intimidating, gloomy office I’ve come to know back in Boston.
The extra light illuminates everything, and I can see Josie’s eyes scanning the pages, running back and forth as she reads, narrowing and broadening at random.
The sound of flipping paper makes it impossible to focus on anything else. Josie has been reading through my proposal for over ten minutes while I’ve just sat across from her. No words, no emotions, no feedback. Just the movements of her eyes and the sound of turning pages.
The longer I sit in this chair, the more anxious I get.
I spent my entire lunch break eating at my desk and looking over my proposal notes for the thousandth time, silently running through my written speech in my head.
The better part of last week was dedicated to exploring the archives.
I knew it would be beneficial, but I underestimated just how much of a good use of my time it would be.
The archives not only kept a ton of artifacts from prior exhibits, but they also kept photobooks of each one on a bookshelf in the back for reference.
With less than ten exhibits per year, it didn’t take me long to look over the last several years of exhibits to get ideas for different layouts and what elements attracted the most visitors.
This has by far been the easiest project proposal I’ve written to date. I had a few ideas of how to pitch it and ended up putting together a combination of two of my favorites. I’m really excited with that I came up with, so I don’t know what I’ll do if?—
“I like it,” she says cheerfully, flipping through the final pages of the portfolio. “You can move forward with these plans.”
I sit there, stunned, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Surely, there is more she’s not saying. I mentally fill in the blanks to prepare myself.
Josie is going to demand weekly check-ins, or I’ll need to run everything by her each step of the way, or she reserves the right to veto anything she hates once the actual work begins. The possibilities are endless.
Still, she says nothing further.
“That’s it? No changes? No proposal rewrites?”
She looks at me curiously, like everything I am asking is a foreign concept to her. “Were you expecting me to not approve this?”
“Well, no, but I guess I was assuming you’d have some changes for me to make to align with what you envisioned.”
“Marnie, this is very impressive. I can’t wait to watch you pull this off.”
The compliment expands in my chest. I’ve never had unwavering support like this right off the bat.
She closes the folder and slides it back to me. “Tell me what you need to make this happen, and I’ll do my best to get it.”
I nod, and there’s a knock on the door behind me.
“Ah, right on time. Come on in,” she beckons. I turn around and lock eyes with the same man I’ve continuously run into over the last week.
He looks just as surprised as I do.
“Marnie, meet Caleb.” Josie grins widely. “I said I would do my best to get you what you need. This is part of it. I’ve worked with the Hansen family on dozens of projects over the years, and you will not find a finer partner to bring your exhibit to life.”
Oh, shit. This is who I am going to spend the entire summer working with?
We stare at each other, neither of us saying anything as the realization hits. In my periphery, Josie’s confused face is flicking back and forth between us.
I stand and extend my arm in greeting. “Caleb, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Marnie,” he drawls, mouth tilting up into a small smirk. “What a lovely name. Although, Arnie was just starting to grow on me.”
His warm hand wraps around mine, giving a firm but polite shake, transporting me back to the day we first met at Wicked Brews. “The pleasure is all mine,” I reply politely.
“Do you two know each other?” Josie asks, clearly out of the loop on our connection.
“We’ve met.” Caleb flashes her a grin and takes the chair beside me.
“I thought you said you were a gardener.” My brows draw together as I sit back down, trying to make sense as to why he’s here in Josie’s office.
“I never said I was a gardener,” he counters, looking amused. “You insinuated, but I never confirmed.”
I recall that interaction in the coffee shop. I remember suggesting that he was involved in something nefarious, but he never got the chance to deny it before Art interrupted with our drinks.
Completely oblivious to our interaction, Josie continues. “Work with Caleb to bring these pages to life.”
Caleb learns against the armrest closest to me, and I get a whiff of his cologne.
The strong scent of the coffee shop overpowered it when we first met and my brain was too scattered after the truck narrowly missed hitting me, but here, in the small confines of this office, it’s unmistakable. Pine, and a hint of something sweet.
“I do have one question, actually,” Josie interjects. “What about community education and engagement? You left that part blank.”
“To be honest, I am a little stuck with where I want to take that, but I will have a better idea in the coming weeks.”
It’s not a lie. A few weeks should give me more than enough time to come up with an idea. I just don’t know where I am going to find the inspiration for it.
“Has the packet come in handy? I included several places that should help with that.”
“Um.” My cheeks heat. “I’ve been to a few restaurants, but most of my week was spent working on this proposal.”
Her mouth tips down, a flicker of disappointment in her expression. “Don’t forget how much I stressed the importance of understanding the island and how the movie is woven into the culture. I chose everything on that list for a reason.”
I nod. “I promise I have plans to check off a lot of them this week and next.”
“Josie, I’d be more than happy to help her with those plans,” Caleb speaks up.
“As much as I appreciate the offer, that won’t be necessary, but thank you,” I reply. “We can just stick to?—”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Josie chimes in, closing the folder and thrusting it in my direction. “When you go over this proposal with Caleb, he can help narrow down which things on the list will be useful.”
“Excellent idea, Josie,” he responds, grabbing the folder before I can. When he stands, he offers me a hand up.
I ignore it and instead reach for the folder tucked beneath his arm, giving it a firm tug until it’s free.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Josie says. “Do you mind closing the door on your way out?”
Caleb follows me down the hall into my office and makes himself right at home, flopping into my desk chair and plucking a mint from the bowl.
Annoyance flares at the sudden intrusion of my space, my mind reeling with the knowledge that the man I flirted with mere days ago is now going to spend the summer working with me.
I march up to him, hell-bent on kicking him out so I can get started now that my proposal is approved, when the crunch of something captures my attention.
Cool mint fills my nostrils, and I become distracted by the way his jaw flexes with each bite.
He tracks my eyes and tips his mouth up into a smirk, a small dimple threatening to make an appearance.
Nope. Focus, Marnie. No inappropriate thoughts about your new project partner, no matter how hot that was.
I shake my head and shoo him out of my chair. He rises and moves around my desk, brushing against me as he does.
He reaches the chair opposite mine and flops down again. This chair is far too small for him, his muscular form filling every inch of space in the seat so well that it almost looks comically small.
I open the folder, flipping to the third page in my exhibit proposal and push it across the wood in his direction, ready to discuss our game plan.
He leans forward onto my desk, ignoring it. “How was the lobster roll?”
“What?”
He gestures to the take-out bag at the end of my desk, a smug look plastered on his face when he notices it’s empty.
I blush, quickly grabbing the bag and discarding it. “Oh. It was alright.”
“Just alright?” The intonation in his voice hinting that he’s onto me.
“Yep. Nothing special, just your run-of-the-mill lobster roll.”
I wish. That was hands down the best lobster roll I’ve ever had. Freshly caught this morning and smothered in butter. One bite had me losing my train of thought while rehearsing my proposal. It was almost enough to make me forget what my proposal was even about. Almost.
But he doesn’t need to know that.
“I seem to recall you saying if the lobster rolls from Logan’s didn’t disappoint, you’d let me take you on a date.”
“You don’t know my standards for lobster rolls,” I reply, shrugging slightly before schooling my features so he can’t decipher my true feelings about my lunch. “Maybe it did disappoint.”
A humorless laugh rolls out of him. “Bullshit. Don’t insult Logan like that. Admit it, you enjoyed it.”
“That was before I found out we are working together.” I change the subject, not taking the bait.
No matter how much I enjoyed our coffee shop debate, everything between us needs to remain strictly professional for the duration of this planning process.
It’s best if I make that clear now. “Look, if you and I are going to work together, we need to set some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” he repeats.
“I don’t date people I work with. It’s messy and complicated, and I don’t need any distractions.”
“So, I guess now would be a bad time to ask what your plans are this weekend?”
“I don’t mix business with pleasure. It’s nothing personal.”
“But we don’t technically work together at the same company, just together on an assignment,” he retorts, lifting a brow at me.
I cross my arms, considering his words. “It doesn’t matter,” I reply, my tone turning serious. “I don’t need to give anyone a reason to think I’m not one hundred percent focused on my work here. There’s too much at stake.”
He nods in understanding. “Can we at least continue our light, harmless flirting, then?”
“Do you flirt with all of your coworkers?”
“Well considering my coworkers are technically my employees, that sounds like an HR violation. But I do make it a goal to flirt with beautiful women.”
Despite my best efforts to ignore them, his words flatter me. I’m thankful we are in the privacy of my office so no one overhears. “You make it sound like you do it often.”
He shrugs. “Not really. I require a very particular redhead with an affinity for horror movies of the slasher variety . . . who I definitely don’t work with.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s laying it on thick. Perhaps there’s room for a compromise.
Caleb stands, splaying his hands across the mahogany wood and leaning in close enough for me to get another whiff of his cologne. “Do you want me to stop flirting with you?” he asks, his voice low and rough and full of temptation. I’m not sure I’ll be able to withstand this for an entire summer.
I draw in a breath as I pretend to ponder his request. I really shouldn’t agree to this.
I need to focus on this exhibit so I can get that promotion over John.
But there’s something so fun and easy about flirting with him—it calms my stress and anxiety long enough for me to forget about it, even in the few interactions we’ve had so far.
I lean back in my chair and expel a sigh. “No,” I relent. “I don’t want you to stop flirting with me.” He grins, but I hold up a finger. “On one condition.”
“Name your price,” he says.
“Not in front of anyone else in the office. We will be the poster children of professionalism at work for the duration of this project,” I say firmly. “And I was serious about what I said. I don’t date people I work with. A bit of innocent flirting is amenable, but that’s as far as it can go.”
“I can accept that,” he murmurs.
I nod at his response, happy to be on the same page. I’m the first to break eye contact, dragging my eyes back to the folder and stack of papers between us.
We change gears to discuss our initial thoughts to see where the exhibit planning will lead us. I don’t want to get too far, especially on such an accelerated timeline, without a clear direction.
I set a reminder on our calendars to meet again in a week for a more detailed project plan now that I know the scope of the project and what I need to make it happen.
Nothing seems off the table at this point. Even the most out-there, complicated, logistical nightmares don’t seem to deter him. Now if I can just prevent his flirty remarks from distracting me, I just might pull this off after all.
I close my notebook to find him still staring at me.
“So,” he says. “About that list . . .”