Chapter 6
Sarah
Saturday
“No, the speaker goes on the left side. The left. Your other left.”
Sarah stood by the pool deck watching the DJ struggle with his equipment setup. It was three in the afternoon, and they had four hours until the first welcome party of the season started. The sun was brutal, even in late March. She could feel sweat gathering under her blazer.
The DJ, a kid who couldn’t be older than twenty-five with a man bun and too many tattoos, finally got the speaker positioned correctly. “Like this?”
“Perfect.” Why didn’t he remember this from last year?
He nodded and went back to work. Sarah pulled out her phone and checked the setup list again. Tables arranged around the pool perimeter. Bar stations at the north and south ends, one serving mocktails, one checking IDs for the alcohol. String lights hanging overhead, ready to be turned on at dusk.
“Sarah!”
She turned. Stavros Andreou was walking toward her across the pool deck, wearing linen pants and a guayabera shirt. He was in his mid-sixties, distinguished with silver hair and a tan that spoke of boats and golf courses.
“Stavros. I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“I wanted to see how things were progressing. The spring break season is important for revenue.” He looked around the pool area, taking in the setup. His expression was neutral. “This looks very similar to last year.”
“We’re using the same format. It’s proven effective.”
“Hmm.” He walked over to one of the drink stations, examining the menu. “At the last board meeting, Derek mentioned that guest feedback from the parties has been less than stellar.”
Of course Derek had said that. She should have known better than to let him deliver the report. But she’d had a pesky tooth ache that insisted on being tended to. Now she got the bill for not doing the report herself. “We always get mixed reviews. You can’t please everyone.”
“The words ‘boring’ and ‘out of touch’ were used frequently in the comment cards.” Stavros turned back to her. “I’m not trying to criticize. I’m trying to help.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“You have Jasper’s girl here. Why not use her?” He smiled. “She’s closer in age to our guests. She might have insights we’re missing.”
Sarah wanted to point out that she’d been running successful events for years, that age didn’t automatically equal understanding, that Lizzie had been here three days and couldn’t possibly know what worked at the Carlson.
But this was Stavros. Not Peter Lassiter with his condescending tone. Not Derek Mitchell waiting for her to fail. Stavros, who had been Billy’s closest friend, who had stood by Sarah when Jonathan started his legal challenges, who had the power to make her life much easier or much harder.
“That’s a good idea,” she said, despite herself. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Excellent. I’ll be at the party tonight. I’m looking forward to seeing what you put together.” He squeezed her shoulder
After he left, Sarah stood there for a moment, letting the frustration wash over her. Then she pulled out her phone and texted Lizzie: “Need you at the pool deck. Now.”
Lizzie appeared ten minutes later in shorts that showed off the tan she was getting. Her legs were long and smooth and for a glorious second, she imagined what it might be like to...
No!
She wasn’t going to think that. That way lay trouble.
Lizzie looked nervous. “Is something wrong?”
“We’re making some changes to tonight’s party.”
“Okay. What kind of changes?”
Sarah hated every word that came out of her mouth next. “You mentioned TikTok dances and viral cocktails or mocktails. Tell me more.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“The board thinks we need to update our approach. Presumably you know what college students want to do at a party.”
“Right. Okay.” Lizzie pulled out her phone and started scrolling.
“So there are like five or six dances that are trending right now. If we set up a big screen by the DJ booth and play the videos on a loop, people can learn the moves and film themselves doing them. Or we could create different stations around the pool, one for each dance.”
“Stations.”
“Yeah. Like themed areas. One for the Sunset Groove dance, one for the Beach Vibe one, that kind of thing. People move between them, film content, post it with the hotel hashtag. That’s if we have time to set up screens. We could set up laptops to show the dances and…”
Sarah watched her talk, watched the way she got animated when she was explaining something she cared about.
“And the drinks?” Sarah asked.
“There’s this one called Electric Sunset that’s everywhere right now. It’s layered, looks really cool in photos. We could serve that alongside the regular drinks. Make it Instagram-worthy.”
“Instagram-worthy.”
“Trust me, half of spring break is about the content you can post. If we give them something visually interesting, they’ll eat it up.”
Sarah considered. It went against everything she’d been doing. But Stavros was right. She needed this party to be successful.
“Fine. We’ll do it. I’ll talk to the DJ and the crew. See if they can do it in short order. Send me the TikTok videos. And the mocktail recipe.”
“On it.” Lizzie was already typing on her phone.
They spent the next two hours transforming the pool deck. Sarah called the bar manager and explained the new mocktail. Lizzie helped arrange the stations around the pool, marking each one with a small sign indicating which dance it featured. They dances would be shown on laptops.
“This one should be by the waterfall,” Lizzie said, moving a sign. “Better lighting for videos.”
Sarah followed her over. The waterfall feature was on the north end of the pool, water cascading over decorative rocks. It would photograph well. They both reached for the sign at the same time. Their hands brushed. Sarah inhaled sharply. Lizzie’s skin was soft, smooth just as she’d imagined.
She made herself pull back. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Lizzie secured the sign and moved to the next station.
It happened again twenty minutes later when they were adjusting the placement of a table. Fingers touching for just a second. Sarah felt the contact like electricity running up her arm.
This was ridiculous. She was a thirty-five-year-old widow. She could handle accidentally touching someone without having a reaction.
Except apparently, she couldn’t. Not when it was Lizzie, with her auburn hair falling out of her ponytail and her cheeks flushed from the heat and her surprisingly good ideas.
“I think we’re done,” Lizzie said, looking around the pool deck. “It looks good.”
It did look good. More energetic, more dynamic. Sarah hated that she hadn’t thought of it herself.
“Thanks for the help,” she said. “If this works, we’ll do this every weekend, and you can be the one in charge of set up. I’ll help, of course.”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here, right?”
Sarah’s phone buzzed. A text from the catering manager about the food setup. “I need to check on the kitchen. You should take a break before the party starts. It’s going to be a long night.”
“Okay. See you at seven.”
***
By seven o’clock, the pool deck was transformed.
The lights were on, reflecting off the water.
The DJ was playing. The laptops were set up just waiting for the college kids to press start at each station.
The pool deck was large enough so every station could play its own music without interfering with each other.
Sarah stood near the bar, watching people arrive. College kids in swimsuits and cover-ups, laughing and excited, already taking photos of the setup. The Electric Sunset mocktails were a hit. She’d already seen at least twenty people posing with the layered drinks for their phones.
She felt completely out of place. Too old, too formal in her beige blazer and work clothes while everyone else was in beach casual. But she had a job to do.
She spotted Peter Lassiter and Derek Mitchell standing by the entrance. Evaluating. Judging. Hoping she’d fail.
And there was Stavros by the waterfall, nodding approvingly as a group of girls attempted the Beach Vibe dance and dissolved into laughter.
And there was Lizzie, standing in the crowd.
She wasn’t in her uniform. Sarah had told her to blend in.
So she was in a cute pink and white dress that showed of her new tan, her shoulders with the freckles mirroring the ones on her nose.
Her legs. Again. Sarah shook her head. She had to stop staring.
This was not the time or place to be lusting after her intern.