Page 2 of Once You Go Pack
Something in her sister’s tone made Mila look up from her screen. Riley was studying her with an expression that might have been concern if Mila hadn’t known better.
“You should come to the event.”
Right.Because Mila belonged in that world of champagne and small talk, where confidence was currency and she was perpetually bankrupt.
“Someone needs to manage things back here at the firm,” Mila said quickly, trying to change the subject.
“Someone always needs to manage things, and it’s always you.” Riley’s voice carried an edge of frustration. “When was the last time you did something just for yourself?”
When was the last time? Before her mother died, maybe, when happiness had seemed as natural as breathing.
“I’m fine, Riley.”
“You make yourself invisible, and then you wonder why no one sees you.” The words came out sharper than Riley probably intended.
Mila’s fingers stilled on her keyboard. The truth of it cut deeper than any intentional cruelty could have. “I have work to finish.”
Riley sighed, pushing off from the desk. “Fifteen minutes until our meeting. Try to remember you’re brilliant, even if you’ve forgotten how to show it.”
As her sister’s footsteps faded down the hall, Mila pulled out her compact and stared at her reflection again. “Maybe I do make myself invisible.”
The words echoed in the silence of her cluttered office, surrounded by other people’s ambitions and dreams. She glanced at her watch. Twelve minutes now. Almost time to meet the woman who’d specifically chosen their ordinary law firm in sleepy Salem, for reasons no one seemed to understand.
Exactly twelve minutes later, Mila smoothed her navy pencil skirt as she approached the conference room down the hall. Her cream blouse had wrinkled from hunching over her desk all day but there wasn’t time to change now.
The conference room’s glass doors revealed three figures seated around the polished mahogany table. Her father commanded his usual spot at the head, his broad shoulders filling out his suit jacket. Riley had claimed the chair to his right, her dark hair catching the late afternoon light streaming through the windows. But Mila’s attention fixed on the third figure—a petite woman in an electric blue pantsuit that seemed to pulse with energy.
Gerri Wilder.
Even seated, she radiated the kind of presence that made rooms reorganize themselves around her. Her white bob was styled to perfection, and when she turned her head toward thedoor, her eyes—bright blue with flecks of something that almost looked gold—locked onto Mila with startling intensity.
“There she is!” Gerri’s voice carried warmth and authority in equal measure. “The brilliant mind behind this organization.”
Brilliant mind?Mila blinked, heat creeping up her neck. Her father’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly, while Riley raised an eyebrow with barely concealed amusement.
“Hello Ms. Wilder, I’m Mila Eldridge. Thank you for choosing our firm to sponsor your foundation event.” She extended her hand, surprised when Gerri clasped it between both of hers.
“Oh honey, call me Gerri. And the pleasure is all mine. You’ve worked a miracle with such short notice.”
The scent of vanilla and citrus drifted from Gerri’s direction, underlaid with something sharp and electric that made Mila’s pulse quicken unexpectedly.
“Please, have a seat.” Her father gestured to a chair. “We’re eager to discuss the details of next week’s?—”
“Actually, Mark, I’d prefer Mila walk me through everything.” Gerri’s attention never wavered from Mila’s face. “She’s the one who made this magic happen.”
Riley leaned forward, her practiced smile sliding into place. “While Mila certainly handled the logistics, as senior attorney I can speak to the legal implications and?—”
“I’m sure you’re very capable, dear.” Gerri’s tone remained pleasant but dismissive. “But I specifically want to hear from Mila.”
This is bizarre.
Mila settled into her chair, acutely aware of her father’s jaw tensing and Riley’s fingers tapping silently against the table. She’d never been the center of attention in a meeting, especially not one this important.
“Of course. I have all the documentation here.” Mila opened her portfolio, grateful for the familiar comfort of organized papers. “The venue is confirmed for next Saturday evening at the Hawthorne Hotel’s Grand Ballroom. Capacity for two hundred guests, with cocktails beginning at six followed by dinner and the literacy program presentation.”
“Perfect. And the catering?” Gerri’s blue eyes twinkled with something that looked like admiration.
“Local farm-to-table menu with vegetarian and gluten-free options.” Mila handed across the catering contract. “The chef specializes in New England cuisine with modern twists. I thought it would appeal to both local supporters and your foundation’s broader network.”
