Page 1 of Coyote

Chapter One

Bethany

I unlocked the front door at Effortless Events and rushed to turn off the security system. Being a single mother wasn’t easy, but I hated disappointing the nice older man who gave me a job working as an administrative assistant when I was down and out. The least I could do was be on time for work. I was one of his few employees and he was training me to be an events coordinator. I keyed in the code and waited impatiently for the machine to beep.

Then I went to the break room to start a pot of coffee. Reginald Archibald may lead a charmed life but without his morning brew the man was anything but charming. Then again, I wasn’t a fountain of creativity until at least my second cup of java either. As soon as a steaming cup was in my hand, I took the first sip. As always, it was heavenly.

I made my way to the office and sat down at the smaller of the two desks. Setting my coffee aside, I started by pulling together invoices remitted by all the venders from last night’s bash at the Alacroy. A prominent local couple wanted to make a splash for their fiftieth wedding anniversary and only the fanciest hotel with the only ballroom in town would do. Coming from a humble background, it was more glamourous than any event I had ever been to.

The invoices were piling up fast though. Just the receipt from the hotel for catering was astronomical. The florist blanketed the tables in fancy flower arrangements to the tune of thirty thousand dollars. I kept scrambling around my desk and found receipts for the open bar, parking attendants, quartet who performed instrumental music for the event, and dozens more invoices for less critical items.

I took a sip of my coffee and filed them all alphabetically in a manila folder for my boss to review. I needed a steady income to support my daughter and this job turned out to be a gift from the gods. I would have worked any old job if it meant providing for my kid, but I was blessed to have one I actually enjoyed.

I glanced over at my little one’s picture sitting across my desk. My Nessa was coming up at three years old. She’s the spitting image of me when I was her age, with dark hair and brown eyes and olive skin. I gazed at her picture, and for the millionth time I tried to see if I could see any of her father in her. The dimples were a dead giveaway, I always loved Lucas’ cheeky smile. However, the other person who could be her father, the man I tried not to think about, wore a beard, so I had no idea what lay beneath it.

Just then I heard the front door chime. Before I could answer it, Reggie stumbled past the office door, groaning, “Need coffee now.”

I finished filing the invoice I was working on, and then went back to the break room to check on him. I found him standing in front of the pot making a cup of warm milk with a dash of coffee in it. Reggie called it a latte but there wasn’t enough coffee in the cup to qualify as a true latte. I didn’t tell him that though, because he thought his morning drink was the best thing ever. I reached into the fridge, pulled out the whipped cream and put it on the counter. He sprayed a mound on the top and sprinkled that with cocoa. Looking all too pleased with himself he brought the cup to his lips and took a tiny sip. The look of joy on his face made the extra step of putting fresh coffee on each morning worth it.

I snagged the canister of whipped cream and slid it back in the fridge.

“Thank you, Bethany,” he stated before taking another sip of his latte. I forced myself not to smile at his whipped cream mustache. My boss was a dignified man, and I didn’t want to embarrass him. He must have had some idea, because he surreptitiously wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth. Walking towards the office he asked, “Anything unusual going on with the invoices from the Stollings event at the Alacroy?”

I shook my head and fell into lockstep behind him as he entered the room and dropped down into his seat at the larger desk. “No, every invoice closely matched the original estimate. It looks like we came in well under budget.”

He grinned at me and quipped, “That’s why they pay us the big bucks to manage their lavish parties.”

I smothered back a smile, “There was something I wanted to talk to you about this morning.”

Leaning back in his chair, his silver-streaked hair gleamed in the overhead lighting. “Shoot. Tell me everything.”

Lifting up our appointment planner I explained. “I noticed that we’re double booked for December twelfth.”

He shrugged. “Yes. We have an event in the morning and another in the late afternoon. I’ve done that before. One is the annual mayor’s luncheon and the other Stephanie Perkin’s wedding.”

“It’s the second one that’s going to be a problem. Ms. Powers, the wedding planner, left a message saying she’d canceled the venue and booked a huge ski lodge with a majestic view of the mountains, apparently her client had an idea to get married on the slopes.”

“She can’t do that. It’s in our contract,” he stated flatly, clearly not impressed with the young lady’s love of majestic winter landscapes.

“Do you want me to break the bad news to her? You know she’s going to throw the great grandaddy of all fits. When she demands to speak to my supervisor, I’ll transfer the call to you.” I suggested.

“Naw, I’ll deal with Stephanie and her wedding planner. She clearly thinks she can run all over me because we used to belong to the same country club. So long as she knows that the four-thousand-dollar non-refundable venue deposit is coming out of her daddy’s pocket and not mine, then we’re good,” he muttered as he took another sip of his coffee.

I slid the manila folder across his desk. “Here are your invoices from the event at the Alacroy. I filed them all alphabetically.”

“I actually prefer them to be present in descending order beginning the most expensive.”

“Duly noted for future reference, Mr. Archibald.”

He shot me a chagrined look, “I don’t like it when you call me that. It makes me feel ancient.”

“I’m really sorry, Reggie.” I replied respectfully. It was hard separating home from office life. Ours was not the most conventional of relationships, given I was living in his pool house. “You’re not old. You’re in the prime of your life.”

“No apologies needed. Thomas says you are just about the loveliest person we know. I gotta say I agree with him.” Thomas was his best friend, and on again off again boyfriend. At the moment they were firmly on, and I saw Thomas’ car in the driveway most nights.

“I’m just grateful for all that you’ve done for me. You found me on my worst day and gave me a hand up. I’m never going to forget that. It’s because of you that I have a decent job, somewhere to stay, and child-care I can trust.”

My boss-cum-landlord-cum-uncle figure waved his hand in a gesture that communicated it was nothing. But to me it was everything.

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