Page 39 of Cruel Fate

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur. “That’s a lot of time in heels.”

She laughs. “I adore you, Stella. I really do. We’ll go shopping and find you a pair that fit.”

I purse my lips.

“Don’t think I don’t see you cramming your feet into those beat-up things.”

“I can’t afford—”

She leans into me. “Hush. Maddox Industries has clothing accounts at all the stores. Bring your work badge with you andput your clothes on your expense account. Harper and the girls in the office do it. Zane should have told you.”

“Are you sure?” That sounds crazy expensive.

“Yes, but I would really love it if we could go shopping together. You’re gorgeous, Stella. It will be fun to dress you. I want to see Zane’s eyes bug out of his head.”

“I’d like to see that too,” I admit, laughing.

Zarah giggles and orders us two more martinis.

Party planning is fun, but the real work will be that night when I meet the guests and I’m expected to remember their names.

We work late ironing out who is special enough to have a seat at dinner. Zarah starts mentioning people who don’t live in King’s Crossing, or even the United States, and things are even more complicated.

“This party is short notice, and some won’t be able to come. We’ll put a tight window on the RSVPs and then we can bump up guests as others decline. Will you be able to keep track of the guest list? It makes more sense if you do it since you’ll be handling the bulk of the calls during the day, and you’ll be in charge of doing a lot of this stuff in the future.”

“Sure,” I agree, but my heart thumps. It sounds like a lot of responsibility. “Can I go over this with Harper and ask her to help me? She’ll know everyone, won’t she? I don’t want to mess up.”

“No problem. She helped my mom quite a few times, but I’ll put your email and cell phone number on the invitations. You’ll be stepping in as Zane’s assistant, so this will be good for everyone else, too. Train them to start going through you to get to Zane.”

In the end, we make a list of over five hundred people.

Zarah asks me to call the Lyndhurst back and give the banquet manager the tentative head count and the evening’sschedule. She and I will spend a couple of hours there ensuring the space is set up correctly before we attend the press conference that will take place in front Maddox Industries on the steps that overlook the city street. The building will be the perfect background.

We work on that next, sending emails to all the news outlets letting them know which day and what time Zane will be speaking. After Zane’s speech, there will be a short period allowing reporters to ask questions. “But not too long. They’ll hound Zane to death if we don’t stop them,” she says.

“Don’t you have a PR manager or something?” I ask, puzzled we’re putting together the press conference ourselves. It’s nothing I’m familiar with, though Zarah seems at ease emailing everyone, using a contact list saved on her computer. She knows people everywhere.

“My mom did it. She majored in public relations, and she had a master’s in marketing. All I know I learned from her, but I don’t understand this kind of thing well enough to take her place—not without going to school. I can get us through Zane’s dinner, but then, yes, we’ll have to figure out what we need to do from there. We’ve been grieving, and Zane and I have been on autopilot. A lot of things will change, willhave tochange, now that he’s finally—” She stops, her voice breaking.

I wrap my arm around Zarah’s shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. Normally, we wouldn’t be the ones doing this, but it will be okay for now. I’ll mention to Zane that we should contact a PR firm soon to replace Mom, or maybe he’ll want to hire someone and keep it in-house. See what he says. Excuse me.”

She wipes her eyes and lets herself out of the office.

While she’s using the bathroom, I search for pianists online, and when she comes back, I suggest someone play during cocktail hour and ask if we shouldn’t have a speaker.

Dry-eyed, Zarah plops into her seat. “Fabulous ideas. Zane will have to speak, of course, and since Ash’s dad and my dad were such good friends, I’ll ask Mr. Black to say a few words. He’ll be honored.”

Near nine o’clock, we’re finally close to finishing up. She trusts me to choose and schedule the pianist, and she shows me how to file the expenses. When the bills come in, the accounting department will be expecting them and pay them.

“Different things use different codes for tax purposes,” she explains, showing me PDF after PDF that surprisingly don’t look too complicated. “Donations, parties, business dinners. Zane’s easy—he uses a business credit card—but this kind of thing needs to be billed properly. This party’s going to cost a couple hundred thousand dollars, and we need that money accounted for down to the penny.”

The figure leaves me reeling, and I swallow the bile all that waste threatens to bring up my throat. I’m one of them now. “Your mom taught you all this?”

She shuts down her laptop and unplugs the charger from one of the outlets conveniently placed in the center of the table. “Yeah. She’s been showing me how since I was in grade school. It’s hard to do it without her, though. I keep thinking she’s looking over my shoulder, ready to point out something I’m doing wrong.”

I hate saying the same thing but it’s all I can offer. “I’m sorry.”

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