Page 56 of Seas the Dating Coach

“I think a lot of islanders will want to buy their tickets in person, but Greg could whip up a website with event information and a spot for online ticket purchases. We can link it to the main library webpage if patrons in Virginia Beach would be interested in driving out for the event.” Patricia tucks her hair behind both ears before tapping on her phone again. “He’d do it pro bono, of course.”

Trudy elbows Patricia with a knowing smirk. “More like payment is taken care of since you’ll keep him pro—”

“Alright.” I stand with a clap, bringing that potential NSFW conversation to an end. “Thanks for meeting on short notice on your day off, but I think the quicker we get this fundraiser coordinated, the better.” I quickly make eye contact with each of my staff from my position at the head of the table. “I looked at the calendar, and though it’s a tight window, I think it would be best to host the event Saturday, June 24th.”

A collective gasp echoes through the room.

“That’s in three weeks,” Maxwell says.

I raise an outfacing palm. “I know, but our biggest benefactor, Dave Prescott, is taking his wife on a month-long tour of Asia for their thirtieth wedding anniversary in July. It would be best for both of them to attend.”

“What about August?” Trudy asks. “That would give us more time to plan.”

Directorship interviews are expected to be scheduled in early August. Having a successful—and lucrative—event behind me rather than in the works would be more favorable during my application process.

Patricia makes a dismissive noise. “It’s too hot in August. Everyone would be melting in their period dresses and top hats.”

“Ooooh, costumes,” Trudy coos. “I didn’t eventhinkof that.”

I had. That’d been the second thing that had popped into my mind, imagining how excited Vivian would be by the idea of sewing herself a Regency gown for a ball celebrating the books she adores.

As if my thoughts have conjured her, Vivian walks past the hostess stand and into view, a chatty Atticus on her heels. She is why I’m hosting this meeting at this specific location at this time—and the second reason why I’m a complete scumbag. I acknowledge that it’s beyond inappropriate to stalk Vivian while she’s with Atticus, but every time I began the email to my staff about meeting on Monday, this location and time kept popping up on my screen.

My tight spine sags at the sight of Vivian in cut-off shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her curls in a messy bun. She didn’t dress up for their meeting. Even though this should be a steppingstone to her securing a formal date with Atticus, Vivian didn’t wear one of her butter-soft dresses.

My jubilance is efficiently squashed when her hairstyle transports me to the memory of yesterday. It’d been nearly impossible not to drop a kiss on the nape of her neck. And then she’d turned, sucked in that unsteady breath, and reason darn near went out the window as—

“Vivian!”

I flinch at Patricia’s loud call through the open door. “Come here, hon.”

It’s work to keep my hands from fisting. Dragging Vivian in front of a group is going to make her uncomfortable. Patricia should know better.

Vivian glances over her shoulder, and the second our gazes crash, the air is punched from my lungs. Her quick perusal of my attire only takes a millisecond, but I feel stretched beyond the capacity of my skin as it flits from my slacks to my rolled dress shirt to my unstyled hair. Then her nose wrinkles as those expressive eyes drop to her sandals.

“Um.” She pauses a beat before stepping toward the door. “Hi.”

“Patricia, we don’t need—”

“What do you think about making dresses for a Regency ball?” Patricia interrupts me.

Vivian’s gaze bounces from Patricia to me, and a burning radiates from behind my breastbone. I wish I’d told her last night. She’d been so effervescent coming home from the fair, and I’d been too torn about my role in it to mention my conversation with Cordelia.

I swallow, reminding myself that my staff is watching. “We’re thinking of hosting a Regency ball as a library fundraiser. This is our first meeting to get some ideas in place.”

“Doesn’t that sound fun?” Patricia asks.

“It—” Vivian’s hands loosen their death grip on the straps of her tote bag as her polite smile graces her lips. “It does.”

“Can you beautify the fine ladies of Wilks Beach in three weeks?”

Vivian squints, her gaze drifting off. “No. Not in that timeline, but I can alter dresses. I’ve seen on social media that there are several affordable options online. Annie Ardent did a Regency-themed book signing in Charlotte last year, and almost everyonein attendance dressed up. Perhaps you could coordinate with attendees and make one purchase to save on shipping. If you send them to my shop, I’ll make appointments with each guest to have them fitted.”

A broad smile splits my face, watching Vivian relax into her savvy business persona. I saw it for the first time yesterday after the boutique owner left with several overfilled dress bags. Vivian had spoken to each subsequent customer with a comfortable grace, selling more than she had in the morning simply from the confidence boost.

“I can do that,” Letitia says, scribbling notes. “I’ll give locals a few days to decide on a style and pay for their dresses, and I can make a single purchase on my account.”

“And if anyone decides to buy their own dress and bring it to me, that is fine too,” Vivian adds. “Just have them come by to have it fitted. I’m always available for after-hours appointments too.”

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