Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
VIOLET
“ M ommy, can we read a story?”
“Baby, it’s ten o’clock.” At least two hours after Bri should have been in bed.
“But I’m not tired.” She whined in the way she only did with me.
“It is way past your bedtime,” I pointed out.
“I know. But I really want to read a story. Can we go back to the rodeo next week?”
“The season’s almost over,” I said reasonably. “Plus, I think we got a little more rodeo than we needed tonight. Don’t worry, this won’t be our last time.”
“I want to watch Uncle Chase ride the bull again.”
“Baby, the grown-up bull is dangerous. You saw what happened to Rod.”
“Uncle Chase was amazing. Is that what Daddy was like?”
I couldn’t deny it. Chase had been damn sexy. Not on the bull, of course, but when he had worked on Rodney. He had jumped right into gear, stabilizing Rodney in the minute it took for the on-site EMTs to arrive. He’d performed field tests to rule out a spinal injury and a concussion. He’d remained calm while a loudly screaming Rodney had insisted he’d broken his leg. Once the guys on duty did finally come, Chase had identified himself and his former rank and given his medical assessment so far. The EMTs were clearly impressed, bordering on reverent. Chase gave them back the scene, but they asked him to stay on.
Given all that was happening, I asked Tatum to take the kids while I went with Rodney, and Chase, and the gurney. As Rodney moaned and whined, Chase was all but teaching a master class to the younger EMTs, explaining advanced topics in field response that sounded Greek to me.
After Rodney was in the ambulance, Tatum and I had taken the kids. Chase had taken Rodney’s keys and driven his car to Green Valley, promising to park it outside of his warehouse for one of Rodney’s guys to pick up.
“Yes, baby. That’s what Daddy was like. But Uncle Chase has specialized training. That’s why those other EMTs were listening to him.”
Bri finally yawned. “I’m gonna ask him to teach me tomorrow.”
“Alright, baby. Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it all in the morning.”
I was grateful when she finally relented.
Not five minutes after I’d closed her door, I was in my kitchen with an enormous glass full of the rum punch Chase had made me. After a long afternoon, I still hadn’t had a drink. Given the company I kept—with Chase—I was culinarily spoiled. There were always delicious things to eat and drink whenever he was around. He’d even cooked earlier and left a large Tupperware full of barbecue chicken in the fridge, chicken I was about to avail myself of.
Seeing him with Tatum hurt.
It had been ten times worse than I’d imagined. I’d anticipated the straight-up jealousy I’d feel at the idea of seeing him with another woman. I hadn’t known what it would be to see Chase and Tatum as a family unit. Watching the two of them with our four kids made me feel like the ex who had been replaced by a new wife—a spurned woman who had been left for a second family.
But that’s ridiculous.
Because Chase and I had never been together, and never having been together meant we couldn’t break up. And not having broken up meant that I couldn’t have been replaced. I knew it was irrational. And that I had absolutely no right to take it out on either of them. But how would I pretend to be so unaffected when my feelings were so real?
My phone buzzed on the counter next to me. Chase was texting to make sure I’d gotten home. I tried to sound like I always did when I responded with confirmation. But I couldn’t kill the unsettling feeling that we were coming to the end of an era. And that the days of how it used to be were gone.
By Monday morning, I had dusted myself off, picked myself up, and pep-talked myself into getting ready for a new day. I’d spent most of the day on Sunday resting and planning. The “resting” part had involved snuggling with my kids in bed and snoozing while all of us watched the Trolls movie. The “planning” part had involved modeling out my design business’s first year.
I wanted a luxury-for-less type of focus, where folks could call me and let me help them make easy, inexpensive upgrades based on what they already had. Part of my business would be consultation: viewing my clients’ space and assessing their needs. I wanted a showroom in order to put some sample motifs on display. I also wanted a storage space for great pieces that I’d secured on discount. Versatile pieces that could work in a lot of homes.
The truth was, I would miss the wedding planning business. But it felt too close to what I’d been doing for Chase. And to become a competitor, after everything he’d done for me, was unconscionable. However bittersweet it would be, my highest hope for Noble Farms was for the events business to remain successful. That was why my first order of business today was to bring in candidates who might replace me to interview in the second round.
I’d already done a fair bit of screening. Only about half of the applicants who seemed qualified on paper had made it to the second round. These would be folks who I liked enough to put them in front of Chase. Once I saw how he took to each of them, I would think through who to put in a third-and-final-round interview, which would involve standing in as the planner for an actual event.
Chase had initially seemed reluctant to be involved. But lately, he’d seemed on board, or at least more respectful of my decision to leave his employ. He didn’t pretend to like it, but he’d gotten over reminding me how much he hated the idea. I should have felt gratified by his willingness to help smooth the transition. The truth was, I did not.
“Reagan?” After hearing a knock on the door of the events barn, I headed down to let our guest in. She nodded affirmatively when I asked her name.
“Welcome. I’m Violet.” I held out my hand and she shook it a bit limply. Not that I was the finger-breaking type, but still. A handshake said a lot about a person.
“I’m Reagan. Spelled like the president, pronounced like it has a double-e!”
Her voice was chipper. She’d given me the same pronunciation key when we’d had our initial video conference call. I waved her inside and took in her presentation. Her long, blond hair was loose and cascaded past her shoulder in soft waves. Her eyes were bright and alert, almost like she’d widened them in astonishment when struck by a good idea.
“Chase should be here any minute,” I explained as I ushered her in. “In the meantime, I can tell you what you’re seeing. This is what we call the events barn. My office is upstairs but, as you can tell, we’re standing in our showroom. We usually start event tours right here to give clients a sense of the possibilities in terms of decorative style.”
“This is beautiful!” Reagan complimented. “Who designed it?”
“I did.”
Reagan’s eyes widened, impossibly, more. “But where’d you see it?” she asked.
“In my mind’s eye.”
She still seemed amazed by this. So much so that I had to ask: “How do you find inspiration for the spaces you create?”
“I tend to work on trend with the bridal magazines.”
When it came to copying trends, I definitely had opinions. I tried to think of a delicate way to say that Noble Farms was a cut above—that we liked to go beyond what was ordinary and create unique experiences.
“You know, we’ve been featured in magazines,” I pointed out instead, hoping she would get the message that we weren’t trend followers—we were trendsetters.
“Oh, which ones?” she asked, just as the door to the barn began to slide open.
I took more satisfaction than I should have in the slow and stilted way that Chase was walking in. The man was clearly sore on his bottom half, no doubt from all the showboating he’d done on Saturday night on that mechanical bull. I hadn’t heard from him yesterday other than him texting me to let me know that Rodney was fine. Rodney himself had called me to say the same and ask me for a rain check on our date.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, cringing a little through his smile. It might not be noticeable to Reagan but it was noticeable to me. Speaking of which…
“Chase, this is—” I began, getting only two words in before she cut me off.
“Reagan.” She rushed to Chase and extended her hand. “Spelled like the president, pronounced like it has a double-e! And you are?”
I rolled my eyes, partially because it sounded a lot like cheesy flirtation, but also because I knew she knew his name. I’d made it clear in the email that she would be meeting both of us, but I had also literally just said it.
“Chase Greenleaf,” he said, greeting her with a handshake and smile I’d seen before. Chase was nothing if not charming. I’d given him a set of interview questions we needed to ask and we’d talked about the hiring criteria and deal breakers, but I had a secret list of my own. Not flirting shamelessly with Chase was right at the top.
True, I didn’t like the idea of someone sliding in to take my event director position while also sliding into his bed. But my “no shameless flirting” rule was about more than jealousy. I wanted my successor to keep growing the house I’d built. I didn’t want their ability to do the job well or to stay in the job to hinge on their romantic relationship status. For the sake of Noble Farms, I wanted someone who would focus on the business, and the work.
Much to my chagrin, she interviewed well once we got past our introductions. She was poised, spoke convincingly about her project- and budget-management skills, and had a solid background in wedding planning that was easily transferable to other events. There was no doubt in my mind that she had the ability to keep up with the demands of the job. It was also clear that she brought a few things to the table that I didn’t. For starters, she was a lot more available than I was to personally oversee evening and weekend events.
Forty-five minutes after she arrived, we had shaken hands and parted. Reagan had left the barn and was starting her car. We’d held the interview at the small table we used to confer with clients downstairs. Instead of suggesting we walk up to the loft—to sit in our far-more-comfortable meeting space—and to grab snacks from out of the kitchen, I took mercy on Chase and his clearly sore legs.
He winced a little as he eased himself back into the chair. He noticed me noticing and I arched my eyebrow. He shrugged and shook his head a little, as if to say, “yeah, that was pretty stupid.”
“I’ve got Advil in my purse,” I offered.
“I’m already taking the maximum dose,” he admitted sheepishly.
I could have said a lot of things right then—about how asinine it had been for him to get on a mechanical bull just to show off for Tatum—but I didn’t think I needed to. It seemed the aftermath was punishment enough.
“So. What did you think of Reagan?” I asked instead, bracing myself for what I was sure would be a favorable response, and a well-deserved one at that.
“Do you trust me to give you my objective opinion and not stack the deck against anyone who isn’t you?”
His blunt question surprised me. Even as I was taken aback by what he was insinuating, the truth was, I did. I let him know as much and waited for him to say what he wanted to say.
“I don’t think she’s right for the job.” This comment was even blunter. “I have no doubt that she can manage the logistics—the scheduling, the vendor management, and all those things. But none of that is at the heart of the business. Folks love having their events here because of the unique experience they encounter at Noble Farms. She seemed a little like a one-trick pony. Like there was one single right way to run a wedding—one single right way to think about space, and flow, and decor. But the events you run…they aren’t cookie-cutter. They’re customized to clients, and they’re original. She seemed competent, but she lacked imagination.”
I was gobsmacked. “You picked up on all of that?” Now it was my turn to be blunt.
He gave a little eye roll and a slight shake of his head. “Come on, Vi. I pay attention. I get compliments, and thank-you notes, and I read the reviews. I can’t go anywhere in this town—hell, in the whole damn state—without someone making the connection to who I am and telling me how much they loved an event they went to at Noble Farms.”
“But she can come to actual events. She can—” I halted myself, sputtering a little. “She can provide a level of personal service that I can’t. I’ve created a job that works for me and my kids, but most event directors don’t work this way. Most event directors give a lot more than I do to their events. As event directors go, I’m part-time.”
“Do I grow mediocre peaches?” Chase gave me a pointed look.
“No.” I answered his leading question honestly.
“Do I run a mediocre supper club? A supper club that was a hundred percent your idea?”
Now, I rolled my eyes. “You mean the award-winning supper club that earned one hundred percent of its status based on your cooking?”
“Noble Farms isn’t a mediocre operation, Violet. You’re a big part of how it’s become what it’s become. Every week, at our meetings, those reports you present show me just how high the bar is. If I expect complete excellence from your successor, it’s only in response to the standard you’ve set. I’ll say yes when you bring me someone who can actually fill your shoes.”