Page 1 of Once You Go Pack
ONE
MILA
The fluorescent lights hummed their familiar tune of corporate exhaustion as Mila stared at her computer screen that afternoon. She’d been hunched over this desk since seven this morning performing the same ritual that had governed her life for the past eight years. First to arrive, last to leave, and invisible to everyone.
Her fingers cramped as she typed another email coordinating catering changes for next week’s charity event. The mysterious Gerri Wilder had appeared in their lives like a whirlwind, requesting—no, demanding—that Eldridge & Associates sponsor her foundation event. What puzzled Mila wasn’t the charity itself, but why this woman had chosen their firm specifically. Salem, Massachusetts wasn’t exactly the epicenter of high-society philanthropy, and while they were successful, there were bigger fish in Boston’s legal waters.
She scrolled through her endless task list. Schedule coordination for seven attending attorneys. Venue confirmation. Menu approval. Photography arrangements. All with less than a week’s notice because apparently emergencies only existed in her world while everyone else floated through their days attending networking lunches and client dinners.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that the protein bar she’d grabbed at noon hardly constituted lunch. But there wasn’t time. There was never time. Not for proper meals, not for the novel she’d been writing in stolen moments, and certainly not for the life she sometimes imagined beyond these beige walls.
Practical careers, Mila.Her father’s voice echoed through her memory, the same lecture he’d delivered when she was ten and had shown him the story she’d written about a princess who saved herself.Dreams don’t pay bills. Your mother understood that before she...
He never finished that sentence. Never mentioned how her mother had once painted watercolors that captured light like trapped sunshine, and how she’d hummed melodies while cooking that sounded like freedom itself. All of that had been carefully erased, filed away under “impractical pursuits” along with Mila’s own creative ambitions.
The knock on her office door made her jump. Her father’s imposing silhouette filled the doorway, his dark gray hair perfectly styled despite the late hour. Mark Eldridge commanded attention without effort, a skill Mila had never inherited.
“How are we looking for the Wilder meeting?”
We.As if he’d lifted a finger to help coordinate this chaos. Mila gestured to her screen, where twelve different browser tabs chronicled her afternoon of crisis management.
“Catering confirmed, venue secured, photographer booked. I’ve coordinated schedules for everyone attending, though Patrick wanted to decline at first because apparently his golf game is more important than a charity event.”
“Good.” Her father stepped closer, his presence making her cramped office feel even smaller. “Gerri Wilder specifically requested our law firm to sponsor her event, Mila. I don’t want any mistakes.”
Of course not.Because mistakes reflected on him, while success was simply expected from her. She nodded, biting back the multiple responses that crowded her throat.
“Everything will be perfect,” she muttered softly.
“It better be. Gerri has connections we can’t afford to disappoint.” He paused before leaving her office. “And fix your hair before the meeting. You look...”
Tired? Overworked?
“I’ll take care of it.” Mila didn’t meet her father’s eyes because she wasn’t in the mood to hear another lecture about how she really needed to pay more attention to her appearance.
After he left, she slumped back in her chair, catching her reflection in her darkened computer screen. Her golden blonde hair was escaping from her ponytail, and her blue eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. She definitely looked like the ghost of the woman she’d once imagined becoming.
Twenty-seven minutes until the meeting. She pulled up her master document one more time, scanning the details that would make or break this mysterious Gerri Wilder’s impression of their firm. Of her competence. Of her worth.
“Working late again, I see.”
Riley’s voice carried its usual mixture of affection and subtle condescension. Her sister leaned against the doorframe, looking annoyingly fresh despite the late afternoon hour, her tailored black pantsuit crisp as morning newspaper.
“It’s only four-thirty.”
“Exactly.” Riley stepped into her office, her high heels clicking against the worn hardwood floor. “Normal people have lives, Mila. Happy hours. Date nights. I just left Ted at that new wine bar downtown to attend this important meeting with Gerri Wilder. Plus, I needed to make sure my workaholic sister was handling everything fine beforehand.”
Well, someone has to hold this place together while you all have fun.But Mila just smiled, the expression she’d perfected over years of being the reliable one at their family’s law firm.
“Just finishing up. You know how Dad gets when details aren’t perfect.”
“Speaking of details.” Riley perched on the edge of Mila’s desk, examining her manicure with theatrical concern. “I heard about this Gerri Wilder woman. Apparently she’s some sort of big deal in philanthropy circles. Ted’s firm tried to court her last year, but she wasn’t interested.”
Of course Riley’s perfect husband knew about their mysterious client. Ted Harper collected influential contacts like some people collected stamps, each relationship carefully cataloged for future advantage.
“What else did Ted hear?”
“Just rumors. That she’s incredibly selective about who she works with. That she has this uncanny ability to...” Riley waved her hand vaguely. “I don’t know, see potential in people.”
