Page 140 of Tasty Cherry

I pause by the front window of the hotel to look out on the madhouse that is the parking lot.

Bertie rushes by with a wry grin. “You interns outdid yourselves. We’ve never had a crowd like this.”

Brooklyn hurries forward. “Mila, you need to go out to the gardens. Nobody knows the boundaries of your egg hunt to place the eggs.”

Really? I drew a map. “Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“May the best intern win!” she calls.

“Exactly!” I volley back as I head through the lobby to cut to the side yard.

The five of us are at the end of our internship period. Maverick took himself out of the running for event manager and accepted a position Jed created for him as his assistant with the animals.

For our final assignment, the four of us left were each given the same budget to create our own event for the hotel’s Spring Spectacular.

I’m heading up the Easter egg hunt, which involves ten thousand stuffed eggs in the garden. To make it more interesting, there is an adult version with discounts and gift cards to dozens of local stores.

Owen is using the western ballroom for a massive craft event where kids can make bunny ears and decorate baskets.

Ilsa has taken over the restaurant for a five-course spring menu crafted by Chef Monique.

But it’s Brooklyn who has outdone herself with a flower princess ball. She has set up the main ballroom as a pageant for hundreds of boys and girls wearing all manner of flowers and greenery. Most everyone who arrives comes in costume for her event because the winners get miniature motorized cars, which she got donated by a toy company.

She has proven scrappy with her budget, and when I walked through the ballroom with Owen earlier this morning, agog at the flowers and archways and a zillion Instagram-worthy photo spots, we both agreed that Brooklyn might have the event manager position in the bag.

But I’m impressed with myself as I push out the side door to enter the garden. Music from the DJ provides a festive, happy atmosphere for the bright, sunshiny day.

Already, hundreds of children are waiting outside the gates with their Easter baskets. Some of them wear the bunny ears from Owen’s event. Others dance in front of a long line of motorized bubble machines I rented.

I chose an outdoor space to spend the majority of my budget on the takeaways, a definite gamble with the weather. Ten thousand eggs didn’t come cheap. I contacted hundreds of businesses for the gift cards. I figured this would showcase my ability to network.

Chef Monique’s kitchen crew was too busy with Ilsa’s culinary event to spare anyone to put out eggs, so most of the staff in the garden wear laundry blues or custodial gray. I hope they don’t mind the extra work.

Trey approaches. “We’re not clear on where the under fives end and the bigger kids begin.” He holds out the map printed on a clipboard.

I turn it around. “If you look at it this way, it makes more sense.”

“Oooh, here’s the castle. And this is the path. And the tulips are the boundary.” He laughs. “I never said I was spatially gifted.”

“We put up the temporary fence to protect the flowers and to keep the little ones from straying into the big ones’ territory, or vice versa.”

“Got it.” He waves at the workers. “More over here!”

Egg hunts are fierce where I come from. In fact, some egg hunts back home host the youngest kids at a completely different time of day to avoid them getting trampled by the exuberant older ones.

I’ve separated them by only twenty minutes to avoid losing half my crowd if a family has children in both age brackets. I have a feeling once they go inside to Brooklyn’s ball, they are never coming out again.

The adult version is well after the kids’ hunt, timed to be between shifts of Ilsa’s culinary event. I hope to catch them after the one o’clock but before the two-thirty seating.

Ilsa’s is the only event with tickets. It sold out within a couple of weeks, which was a big win for her. The rest of us have a free-for-all, and we had to wildly guess at turnout.

I spot Cristal from laundry and her boyfriend from Bertie’s crew spreading eggs. I’m glad at least one of Maverick’s angry exes has moved on. Sometimes there are flare-ups among the women he sees. After six months, you’d think they would know his reputation, but he’s got something they want.

Brooklyn still sees him off and on. She’s dated a few Boulder locals outside of the hotel, but none of them have lived up to Maverick despite his flaws. She’s drunk the Kool-Aid for sure.

Ten minutes until the littles will go. I head for the sound system and pick up the microphone. The DJ running the music turns it low so I can speak.

“Hello and welcome to the Castle Hotel egg hunt. Are you all excited?”

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