Page 119 of The Moment of Letting Go

She steps up to my hardly ever used desk and places an itinerary printout and a brand-spankin’-new credit card in front of me.

“The Bahamas,” she announces with a proud smile and an air of tamed excitement. “You leave next Friday.”

But I don’t share her enthusiasm.

Glancing down at the itinerary, I think about the plans I already had for next weekend, the off days I put in for nearly two months ago so that I can go with my mother to visit her sister in Oregon.

“But …” I start to say, pause and look at the paper again, then back up at my bright-eyed boss who—hopefully—must’ve simply forgotten. “I’m supposed to be off next weekend,” I say carefully.

Cassandra waves a manicured hand in front of her and purses her lips. “Oh, I know, Sienna,” she says as if what she’s about to say next will make it all OK, “but I think the commission you’ll make from this job will easily change your mind.”

I set the itinerary on my desk and just listen to her talk—because it’s all I can do at this point.

“You’ll never guess who the client is,” she says, gesturing her hands. “Trent Devonshire”—my eyes pop open a little more, hearing that I’m supposed to be planning an event for a big-time soap opera actor—“and you’ll be pleased to know that it’s the best kind of job: Money is no object.”

Normally that might make me excited about planning an event because then I could go wild with ideas. But this time I’m not the least bit excited. And I’m not as enthused as Cassandra probably expected me to be that my client is the Trent Devonshire. He would be my first celebrity client.

“Cassandra, I’m sorry, but I really can’t work next weekend.” Her smile is beginning to fade, just a little, but enough that I know she’s not pleased.

“Oh, Sienna,” she says, tilting her perfectly made-up face to one side to appear thoughtful. “You’re my best,” she goes on, turning on the charm, “and I already told Mr. Devonshire that I was going to send him my best”—she points at me with a ring-covered index finger—“that being you. So what do you say? Can you take this weekend off instead, or perhaps the weekend after next? I really need you on this one.”

I sigh and slowly stand up from my desk, shaking my head.

“I really can’t,” I explain politely, and with disappointment for having to tell her no. “My mom and I have been planning this trip to see my aunt for a few months. They’re expecting us next weekend. I made sure to put in for the time off far enough in advance.” And you signed off on it and agreed to it, I want to remind her, but I don’t.

Her red-painted smile fades more noticeably now and she crosses her thin, tanned arms underneath her uplifted breasts.

“It’s a huge commission,” she stresses. “Not to mention, one of the jobs that will help further your career here at Harrington Planners. Sometimes you just have to set aside your family plans for the sake of what’s important.”

I say nothing, but instead sit back down and look at the contents of my desk, seeing none of it really. Cassandra isn’t going to relent on this one. I know her well enough to realize that.

I sigh and slowly look up at her tall height standing in front of my desk, and I nod. “OK,” I say. “I’ll change my plans with my mother—I won’t let you down.” I swallow a lump down my throat, one made up of disappointment and regret and even a little anger.

“Perfect,” she says with delight and a bright white smile. She turns on her six-inch black heels and goes toward the door. Then she stops before stepping out into the hall and says to me with long red nails curled around the doorframe, “You’re going to go places in this business, Sienna. You’re everything an exceptional employee should be, and I’m glad to have you—oh, and you’ll be pleased to know that you’ll have a new assistant starting tomorrow.”

“Great, thanks,” I tell her with a forced smile, and she saunters away, the sound of her expensive heels tapping against the floor as she makes her way down the hall.

I let out another sigh, longer and filled with more emotion than before, slumping against my chair. My mom is smiling back at me from a pretty silver frame next to my flat-screen monitor. She’s going to be so disappointed.

Looking away from her photo, I prop my elbows on the desk and rest my head in my hands dejectedly. And I think of Luke—I always think of Luke, even though I try so hard to forget him. I’ve never forgotten the things I learned just being around him, just by knowing him. I thought that maybe once I came back home, the dream I lived when I was there with him in Hawaii would fade as time passed. I thought I’d simply go back to living my life the way I’ve always lived it, that I was too comfortable in my ways to risk changing any part of the life I’ve grown to trust. But nothing has faded. Nothing has been forgotten. And in my heart I know it never will.

I look at the five-by-seven of my mom again, the woman who gave up everything for me.

“For the sake of what’s important,” I say aloud to myself.

Smiling at my mother once more, I get up from my desk and leave my office, heading for Cassandra’s at the other end of the hall.

“Congrats on the Bahamas job,” I hear someone say, but I don’t pay attention enough to know which of Cassandra’s many employees it came from.

Weaving my way past offices and then the break room, I make it to the tall frosted-glass double doors to Cassandra’s office. They’re wide open and Cassandra is inside talking to a man in a suit.

When he notices me standing at the entrance, he wraps up their conversation and tells her he’ll see her tomorrow.

“Come on in, Sienna,” Cassandra says with the wave of her hand just as the man is walking past me.

I step inside with a nervous ball in the pit of my stomach.

She sits down behind her engulfing desk. Then she picks up a folder and holds it out to me.

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