Page 19 of Her Ruin

“Isla?”

Turning, I was met by a stocky older lady. “Hi.”

I didn’t like the way she looked me over, but I kept my smile friendly. “Pete told me you were coming,” she said, already turning away. “This way.”

As I followed her, I glanced down at my sleek navy dress and cream blazer, checking for dirt or anything that might have warranted the look she’d just given me. Self-consciously, I ran my hands over my hair, ensuring it was neat and professional. I preferred wearing my hair in a sleek high ponytail for work, but today I had left the natural curl in, enjoying the bounce as I walked. It felt playful... God knows I hadn’t felt playful in weeks. I appreciated how the side parting softened the sharp style, allowing a loose section of hair to fall over one side of my face, just long enough to tuck behind my ear. The style was polished yet casually elegant, but I wondered, after the look she gave me, if it wasn’ttooplayful.

“As I told Pete,” the woman said with no preamble, “it’s backlogged. Six weeks.” She pointed to the pile of black tiles. “We have that, which is ready now.”

“Which is also leftovers from the renovation in Hardgate, right?” I asked her, watching for her reaction. “Which you’re offering for a discount when Elixir would already have paid for most of this and not used it.”

Her hard stare didn’t phase me at all. “It’s ready to go.”

I smiled. There was no warmth in it. “What else have you got?” I saw the display of different flooring behind her and walked over to study them. The light gray was lovely but flat. A reason I’d rejected it the first time. The navy tile drew my attention; silver veins ran through it like the promise of stars just beyond twilight. I heard my own argument to Pete earlier about the light catching the flooring, which was why I had wanted the white, but this…this was so pretty with enough silver veins to catch natural daylight.

“There’s no discount on that.”

What the hell was this woman’s problem with me?

“Our order is for the white tile, which you told us you could supply in two weeks. Now you can’t. We bought and paid for an order you can no longer fulfill within the desired timeframe.” I pointed at the pile of boxes housing the tiles. “That will do.”

“It’s more expensive.”

“Like I said, my client will accept your gracious discount.” I watched her eyes narrow, and she was about to protest, but I kept talking. “I will be sure to let my friend Julian Turner at Turner and Shepherds Architects know how smooth it is doing business here. As well as the main contractors doing The Grand’s renovation.” I checked my watch. “Word of mouth is the best form of advertising, don’t you think?”

She held my stare for a long moment, and then, with a muttered curse, she mumbled about amending the paperwork.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the car heading back to town. I called Pete from the car.

“Hey, it’s Isla,” I said in greeting. “The new floor tiles will be delivered today.”

“Today?” He sounded resigned. “Isla, I’m not ready for them today.”

“It’s today or nothing.” Checking my mirrors, I turned onto Gracemont’s ring road. “What is wrong with that woman who works there? She was meaner than a snake in a sack.”

“Ah…that’ll be the missus. Ex-missus.”

I was glad he didn’t see my eye roll. We said our goodbyes, and I called Gerard next, telling him I had fixed the flooring problem and assuring him he hadn’t incurred any further costs. With twenty minutes left, I concentrated on getting to my meeting on time, which was the official start of my working day, and I already needed a refill of coffee.

When I arrived, the corner coffee shop was already bustling. Lyndsay Shaw, one of my most important clients, was waiting at a corner table, sipping an oat milk latte. She was the kind of client who could make or break me—she was high society, had deep pockets, and was a perfectionist to the core.

Lyndsay glanced up as I approached, waiting until I slid into the seat across from her. “Tell me you have good news.”

An untouched Americano was waiting for me. I smiled as I took my notebook out of my purse. “I have good news. The ballroom of The Grand Gracemont will be ready in time for your event, and I’ve also secured the catering from Rich Cuisine.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Thank you.” I tipped the cup her way. “Your guests will love it.”

She ignored my thanks and assurance. “Let’s discuss the menu. I changed my mind about the salmon.”

Thirty-five minutes later, she was standing over me, ready to leave. Lyndsay studied me for a moment. “I trust you, Isla. Are you sure you can handle this and the work at The Grand?”

“Absolutely.” Did she doubt me?

Lyndsay nodded once. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Well…no pressure then.

By the time I got to the office, it wasn’t even noon, and I was ready to drop. I had notes on the changes Lyndsay wanted for the menu. She had also changed her mind about an ice sculpture, which was going to be a freaking nightmare in the midst of summer. As I opened my laptop, I was already calling up the company I’d used before, ready to place an emergency order for an eight-foot ice sculpture of a cat playing a fiddle—because if we were going to make an impression for an animal shelter, we might as well do it with style.

My to-do list had grown longer instead of shorter, and knowing I would spend the afternoon on back-to-back calls, I ordered a sandwich.

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