Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
"Yes. I am having a black tie gathering at my house in just over a week. I will provide you a guest list and you will need to get invitations made up and sent out by tomorrow. There will need to be a caterer set up and some sort of music. I'll trust you with all of the details."
"Thank you," she said, feeling truly flattered that he didn't feel the need to look over her shoulder or walk her through it even though she had exactly no experience in party planning.
"I expect you to be there to make sure everything goes smoothly," he added, surprising himself. What had gotten into him? He never invited office staff to his events. Once all the aspects were in play, everything would go according to plan. He didn't need her there to oversee everything.
He just wanted her there. It was a strange realization for him.
"Of course," Hannah responded.
"The guest list will be in your email," Elliott said, typing on his computer, presumably to send said list. "That is all."
Hannah let herself back into her office, checked her email and sent the list to the printer. She paced her office anxiously. Finding a good caterer was going to require more work than most people would realize. She would have to have interviews, and test food, and work out the perfect menu- all without any input from EM on what his preferences would be.
The music was something she was excited about. She already knew that she would forego the DJ and would look into live bands for the event. It was more classy and would cater to a more high-class crowd. Maybe she would pursue her belief that EM would like jazz or blues music. It would be fitting for a black tie event.
Her mind reeled that entire afternoon. Every task she tried to complete, she kept getting distracted by party plans. She had a dozen post-it notes stuck to her computer.
The next morning, she left the office when she knew EM would be in a meeting for a few hours. The printing store was only a few miles away from the place she was supposed to pick up EM's lunch. The door chimed charmingly when she entered and a matronly lady in a bright pink dress and a matching flower in her hair rushed in from the back room to greet her.
She spent over and hour looking at templates, trying to make an educated choice between cream and antique-style paper even though she really couldn't tell the difference. In the end she went with the cream and was then forced to look through three binders of fonts before she found one that didn't scream "wedding" and then gave the lady her list of names and addressed, paid, and rushed to get lunch back on time.
Getting back to the office, she felt a burden off of her chest. The invitations had kept her up all night. If they didn't get in the mail by the next day, there wouldn't be enough time for them to get to their destinations and for people to rearrange their schedules and RSVP.
Now all she had to do was find a caterer and a band that would be perfect and, somehow, be available with a week's notice.
Who did that? Who made the decision to have a party so willy-nilly like that? Didn't he realize that these things had to be done? And that most amazing caterers were booked weeks, if not months, in advance? And the fact that most people, especially wealthy people, have busy schedules.
Or maybe he was just that important of a person that they would drop everything they had going on just to be able to show their faces at his event.
Somehow, she had the sneaking suspicion that was the case.
"Girl," she heard Tad accuse as soon as she walked back into the lobby, "you better call your mother."
Hannah stopped short, turning her curious gaze to Tad. "What are you talking about?"
Tad walked with her into her office, settling down on the sofa while she delivered lunch to EM.
"I got an almost frantic call from someone claiming to be your mother. She said she was looking for her daughter and she hasn't heard from her in over a week and was about ready to drop everything in some place called Stars Landing and come and check to see if something happened to you."
Hannah sat down, putting her head in her hands. It wasn't like her mother to be such a worrywart. Moira that happy, carefree hippie. Had it really been over a week since she spoke to her?
"Yes," Tad said, pulling out his cell phone and looking at some kind of article. "She said the only reason she wasn't here already was because some girl at some inn or something told her that you mentioned the name of this place while you were talking a few weeks back. So she looked us up and called in."