Page 99 of This Thing Between Us

That snake.

“Well, Katie doesn’t deserve professional courtesy since she hasn’t shown that to me. She forfeited her right to be my agent when she failed to make the offer I requested of her.” Then I sighed. “Give me five minutes.”

In less time than that I left a voicemail effectively dropping Katie as my agent. I immediately called James back.

“You’re officially my agent now. Let’s make this happen.”

The gala planning kept me busy. I ran around town talking to vendors, picking up supplies and checking things off my to do list. Time went by quickly as the event approached.

I barely had time to eat, but my mind strayed to Jack more often than I wanted. A whole week had passed since the diner.

I'd be sitting at the stoplight and the change in colors from yellow to red would remind me of a police siren, and then Jack.

Driving past the high school made me think about Coach Ramstrom and the work Jack must have done to arrest the coach, which had become the talk of the town.

Chatting with Barb at the diner conjured up bad memories of learning that Jack had been engaged to Katie Kooney. And made me long for those simple days in high school when we’d get dessert together and walk along the creek.

Unfortunately, Barb's place was unavoidable.

Immersion seemed the best way to get over the negative experience there. Immersion and lots of pie.

Finally, the day of the gala arrived. I readied myself at Savannah’s house and the routine of it settled me in a way. Muscle memory took over, pushing thoughts of Jack into some distant corner of my brain. My heart, on the other hand, felt like it had gone through a meat grinder.

Savannah generously agreed to arrive at the venue ridiculously early with me so that I had an extra set of hands to help with any last-minute running around. She could also serve as a buffer. I was bound to see Jack and wanted to keep my distance.

As with every other major event I ever coordinated, I barely slept the night before, opting rather to enjoy a glass of wine, while going over all the last-minute details, including the minute-by-minute agenda, which I revised until perfection before sending a final version to all necessary parties. Basically, me and Penelope, with Barb cc’d just in case.

I spoke to every vendor on the phone the day before and felt confident that things were going to go well.

And if things went sideways, then I’d pass out one of the hundreds of other cupcakes I baked while pulling my all-nighter.

Complete with a metallic blue sheen and giving off some celestial vibes, the cupcakes were topped with little yellow star chocolates. They’d be a fun surprise for the wait staff to pass around after dinner, during the awards presentation.

With my eyes perfectly lined and my hair somewhat resembling the beachy waves I intended, I zipped up my dress and headed toward the door, several boxes of cupcakes in hand.

Like the rest of the guests, I planned to be shuttled to and from the venue, so I just needed to make my way to the designated parking lot right off the town square. It had been blocked off for that very purpose.

Unlike everyone else, I scheduled a shuttle just for me and Savannah to get there early and check in on things.

I loaded everything into my rental before driving the seven minutes to the parking lot.

With my boat of a purse, I carried my event binder, cell phone charger, tissues, and an array of other supplies I never left home on an event night without.

Parking the car in the empty lot, I realized I had beat Savannah to the rendezvous point. I’d give her ten minutes, otherwise I’d leave without her.

I had already built a little extra time into my minute-by-minute agenda just in case this happened.

I loved my sister, but punctuality had never been her strong suit.

Not wanting to waste any time, I started loading everything into the shuttle bus. I found the driver on the other side of the vehicle with a cell phone glued to his ear. He gave me a friendly wave, then opened the door for me. It only took two trips back and forth. A glance at my watch told me Savannah had five more minutes.

Taking a seat in the heated van, I pulled out my own phone to check my messages.

Penelope texted a picture of the winery, showing me how the tables were decorated in the cellar. The florist must have stopped by earlier than scheduled because small arrangements were sprinkled throughout.

I looked for a text or call from Savannah but found nothing.

Then the shuttle bus door opened. I didn’t even bother to look up from my screen.

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