Page 75 of Mistlefoe
You didn’t look nervous at all, how did you do it?
Fernandez, Sierra - 11:21am:
Easy, I was dead on the inside
I snort and duck my head, in case anyone’s watching me too closely.
Conor, Mahoney - 11:22am:
Well, now that that’s done, it should be smooth sailing from here
Fernandez, Sierra - 11:22am:
Don’t you dare jinx it, Mahoney
Conor, Mahoney - 11:22am:
Let’s see
Music — check
Catering — check
Props — check
Gifts — wrapped
Execs — festived
Fernandez, Sierra - 11:23am:
That’s not a word
My phone pings and I type the next message in our chat quickly.
Conor, Mahoney - 11:23am:
Let me ride this high, woman
After hitting send, I grab my phone and it’s still ringing. I tap the green button and bring the device to my ear. “This is Conor Mahoney.”
“Mr. Mahoney, it’s Joe Malone from Malone and Sons.”
That’s the carpenter we hired for the booths, so I sit up straighter. “Hi, Mr. Malone. How are you doing? Are the booths coming along?”
Sierra’s head pops over the edge of her computer monitor, dark eyes attentive.
“That’s precisely what I was calling about,” the other man says, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid we have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” At my question, Sierra jumps to her feet so fast that her chair slides backward a few feet. Our other coworkers start looking up like meerkats.
“That big snow we just had stranded one of our trucks with the rest of the wood we needed for the project. I tried to shift around supplies from other jobs but it’s not enough. We’re short by three booths.”
I take a sharp intake of air through my nose.
“Conor? What?” Sierra rounds our desks until she stands right next to me. “What’s happening?”
I run a hand through my hair, my attention trained on heras I speak with the carpenter. “Does this mean you’re certain that you can’t complete the job?”
