Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) (14 page)

She’ll either love me or hate me for this.
He had hope enough to believe talking to Frank about her again wasn’t a folly. Twisting the knob on the door, Mark strode into the antechamber. Samantha Andersen’s eyes widened when she caught sight of him. Motioning for him to wait as she finished a call, he froze a few steps from Frank’s door.

“Mark, how are you? Haven’t seen you in awhile,” Samantha greeted, hanging up the phone and standing up behind her desk.

“Is he in?” Mark tilted his head toward the closed door.

Samantha pursed her lips and looked down. “He is, but he’s not in a good mood. What do you need?”

“I wanted to talk to him about hiring another event planner.”

Samantha chortled.

Why is that funny?
After her initial reticence, Lizzie had taken his opinions on increasing revenue and turned them into reality. She’d asked him thoughtful questions. He had plenty of anecdotes and stories to share and she listened to them all.
She’s eager to learn and improve her skills
. He liked that she understood what she knew and also what she didn’t. Their relationship had deepened to a level where trust had formed. She trusted that he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way, like when she’d followed him in the dance. Or her quick laugh and easy smile when they were together.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Samantha warned, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why?” Mark crossed the room, careful to not let his keys jingle in his pocket or his heels click too loudly against the hardwood floor. Stopping in front of Samantha’s desk, he crossed his arms over his chest. “They have the budget. They lost another event planner almost a year ago and never replaced her. Why can’t they hire one now?”

Darting her eyes left and right, Samantha slowly pushed back her chair. Grabbing Mark by the wrist, she pulled him away from her desk to the corner furthest from Frank’s door.

“There isn’t a budget for another event planner. Not right now,” she whispered.

“What? How can that be?”

“There just isn’t.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Look, Mark don’t get involved in this. The less you know, the cleaner your hands are.”

“What does that mean? What’s with all the subterfuge?”

“Frank has had a tough year. Why do you think he pushed you to squeeze every nickel you could out of every contract? The first three quarters have been a loss. If he doesn’t show a big enough gain in this last quarter, he’s out.”

“And he decided to use the budget from events to make up some of that loss?”

“Not exactly. When Frank re-forecasted the budget, he cut that extra expense. An additional planner is no longer available,” Samantha corrected.

Holding up her hands, she stepped away from him and from the situation. Rustling on the other side of the room caught their attention. Samantha nearly tripped, racing back to her desk. Mark didn’t follow.

His growing admiration for Lizzie had grown much trickier to navigate. How could he work with her, with this knowledge, that she wouldn’t be getting help? At least not anytime soon. How did that change their dynamic?

A phone rang on the other side of the door. The low chuckle reverberated through the room. Mark approached Samantha one more time.

“He’ll lose her,” he whispered, staring her down until she met his gaze.

“That wouldn’t be good.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Frank has no idea what great customer service Lizzie provides,” Mark punctuated each word. He clenched his hands into fists at his side. He wanted to punch something, or, more accurately, Frank. Mark tightened his grip until his fingernails bit into the palms of his hands.

Samantha didn’t offer any further reply.

Shaking his head, Mark turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He headed straight for his car. He was well prepared for tomorrow.
Lizzie made sure of that.

Humming and buzzing insects filled the air as twilight descended. The white noise made a perfect soundtrack for his chaotic mind. If he’d met her only a few months before, they could have started something. He hadn’t been ready then. He’d needed every second of the six months he’d had to even start to think about getting involved with someone again. The timing hadn’t been in their favor, he reasoned. He’d always been one of the few that benefited from dumb luck, he had to accept when it didn’t work out his way too.

But that didn’t mean that Mark wanted to see her with anyone else.

That stupid kid over at the convention center looked at her. Mark wanted to punch him too. He’d been shocked that the kid hadn’t asked her on a date although he assumed that would be coming. Would she say yes? Would she go out with that guy? Sure they had more in common then Mark and Lizzie. Lizzie told him that they had gone to the same alma mater and both loved playing fantasy football. But would she date him?

Why would she tell me if she did? Her romantic life is none of my business.

But still, he couldn’t stop thinking of all the negatives against Sam. The biggest reason, in his opinion, the kid seemed too young. He was more of a distraction than a boyfriend. If Lizzie was going to date anyone, clearly she should be with him. Mark swallowed. He couldn’t let himself go that road.

Hopping in his car, he turned the key in the ignition. He had a date with Scooter. A good run would help him clear his mind and focus on what he could do. Namely, make tomorrow’s event the biggest success of his career. And talk to Frank without Samantha around.
I’m sure she’s wrong. She has to be.

Because he couldn’t bear the alternative.

Lizzie stood outside on her porch with her coffee and tried her best to see the beauty in the crimson sunrise.
Red sky at morning, sailors take warning
. Unease settled over her as she drank the last dregs of her mug. Rain in the morning would soak the ground and ruin set-up. If the weather held off until the evening, then everyone got drenched.

Her palms felt clammy. Mark had clearly told her, there was no other option for the reception and dinner
but
to be held outside.
I have to wait for him to give me the directions today. No matter how worried I might be.

At least I don’t have to say until the end of the event.
Mark needed her to oversee the concert staffing and the cocktail reception and dinner set up. With any luck, she’d be gone by seven.

Putting her mug on the little table next to her rocking chair, Lizzie stood up and stretched her arms overhead. Leaning first to her right side and then to her left, her movement caught the eye of a speed walker on the street. Rose powered past Lizzie’s house and, in less than a minute, turned back to pound up the front steps.

“What’s this?” Rose asked, panting as she dabbed her neck with a small towel.

Rose dressed for every occasion and her morning constitutional was no different. Her workout outfit of lightweight, jewel-toned windbreaker and matching pants were from another time and yet had been carefully maintained; like she’d gotten into a time machine and bought the tracksuit off the rack in a 1990s department store that morning.

“I was just finishing my coffee,” Lizzie replied, tilting her head over to the table.

“Aren’t you supposed to be over there by now?”

“It’s not my job, remember?”

“I remember. I didn’t think you did.”

Lizzie let the comment pass, unremarked. “How far did you go? Aren’t you dying in all that polyester?”

“Eh,” Rose replied. She shrugged and dabbed at her terrycloth headband with her towel. The sweatband gave her the air of a 70s tennis star. Lizzie marveled at the halo that floated above and around her hair without smashing her curls against her scalp. “I power walked about three miles round trip. I go so fast, I barely have time to sweat.”

“Wow.”

“I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve been thinking about your situation.”

Sucking in a breath, Lizzie steeled herself, ready for whatever Rose had to throw her way.

“You love St. Simons. Yes? You don’t want to leave?”

Blinking rapidly, Lizzie gave the tiniest nod possible.
I don’t have time to get upset about this today.

“Move in with me. I don’t want you to go. I won’t even charge rent. You can be my… What do they call it? In those old books? Like Jane Austen?”

“Companion?” Lizzie gulped. Rose’s idea had sobered her up, quick. “You want me to live with you as your companion?”

“That’s it! Yes.”

“Rose, I… Thank you for that, for your offer. It’s just… I…” she stumbled over the words, her mind scrambling. “I can’t stand to live next-door when the lawyer sells this house.”

“You don’t think Patrick will buy the house?”

Shaking her head sadly, Lizzie looked back up at the beautiful beach cottage. A sea of azaleas floated around the front, abundant from the damp, spongy marsh ground. The house soared into the sky, with a tower at the top peeking over the pines interspersed throughout the slim property. Her mother had dreamed of building this house her entire life. Patrick had been insistent that he wouldn’t take on another house or mortgage. Even if he wanted to maintain two properties, driving for two days to a vacation house made little sense. She couldn’t bear the idea of watching another family take possession of her mother’s dream.

Rose reached out and put a kind hand on her cheek.

“Think about it honey. I’ve got to get going, can’t stand around here all day. Not if I want to keep up my figure somehow and I have no intention of dieting,” Rose shuddered on the word.

Lizzie grinned but knew better than to offer any reply to that comment directly. “I do have to go in. I was just getting ready and enjoying my coffee while I have the chance. I’ll be on my feet for most of the day.”

“Don’t let me keep you. But say hello to Mark for me. And you did invite him to the recital, didn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Is he coming?”

“I think so, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s so embarrassing. The costumes Marie bought for us? Could they be any shorter?”

“Be grateful for the skirt. You should have seen what she wanted us to wear. Let’s just say, we would have looked like the world’s oldest showgirls.”

“How much better is that then Las Vegas’ saddest group of cocktail waitresses? Honestly, it’s like we should be forming a union for better pay and more time off with those little frilly skirts and the fishnets.”

“Maybe we should. We could use more time off from tap.”

Lizzie giggled. Talking with Rose lightened her spirit and made any task not just possible but fun.

“Listen, I do need to go in now. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the Casino,” Lizzie said.

“Sounds great.”

She stepped forward to give Lizzie a hug. Lizzie hesitated. They’d never embraced. Their friendship had always had firm boundaries about physical contact. It had never been intentional on Lizzie’s part; she’d been prone to hugs and handshakes with even complete strangers. But she hadn’t embraced anyone since the funeral when she’d let countless friends and family hold her as sobs wracked her body.

Lizzie stepped closer to her friend and Rose embraced her, wrapping her arms around Lizzie’s tense frame. Lizzie took in a deep breath, but found that instead of wanting to crumble like a stale cookie, the hug made her relax. She closed her eyes and breathed in the light scent of lavender that hovered over Rose’s clothes, reminding her of sachets from her late grandmother’s coat closet.

“You’re going to be great,” Rose whispered into her ear. “I’m proud of you.”

Lizzie nodded and broke free from the hug.

“Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Absolutely.”

Lizzie watched her friend power walk back down the stairs and across the driveway and yard to her house. She couldn’t stall anymore. Lizzie let herself in, finished getting ready, and left. She drove into town, stopped off to get breakfast to-go for two and drove over to Jekyll.

Lizzie pounded down the tabby path, balancing two Styrofoam containers on top of each other and her giant purse over her shoulder. She reached the door and hit it with her foot several times, until Mark answered the door.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking the Styrofoam from her.

She stepped into the office, shut the door behind her, and sighed, the air conditioning making her shiver.
Sure, it’s the air conditioner, not the tall man in the trim cut slacks.

“You okay?” he asked, eyeing her.

“Perfect,” she said, closing her slightly agape mouth and smiling. “I brought breakfast.”

Lizzie tilted her head to the containers in his hands and watched Mark’s eyes grow wide. He opened one of the containers and breathed in the buttery smell.

“Biscuits,” he said, salivating over the words.

“Is there any other breakfast down here?”

Walking to her desk to put down her purse, she pulled the utensils and napkins out and returned to sit on the couch. Mark handed her both containers, got up to pour them each a coffee, and set the mugs on the ground in front of them.
I guess we need a coffee table too. This is becoming quite the little home
. She handed a fork to Mark, and he began to shovel food into his mouth without any hesitation.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Starving. I’d eat anything right now.”

“Maybe I should have just gone to Waffle House then. If you aren’t going to appreciate Palmer’s,” Lizzie remarked, opening up her own container.

“This is from Palmer’s? I love that place.”

“You do? You’ve been there?” Lizzie asked, frowning.

She had speared a biscuit onto her fork and raised the first bite to her lips. She froze at his words. Why did she feel so disappointed? He’d lived on the island for far longer than she had. But she’d wanted to share something with him, something special.
Why
?
What’s the big deal? Why am I disappointed?

“Of course, it’s across the street from Phil’s bar.”

“Oh,” Lizzie replied and frowned.

“I’m sorry, was I not supposed to know about Palmer’s?”

“I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Well you did surprise me. This is great. Thanks Lizzie.”

Lizzie dove into her breakfast. Her food had cooled to room temperature but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and took her first bite, savoring the soft, chewy biscuit with the creamy gravy. Lizzie moaned and then stopped herself.

“You okay?” Mark asked, chuckling.

“I’m fine. Palmer’s is one of my favorite places.”

“Mine too. What are the others?”

“I have a favorite spot, where I go to relax and unwind.”
And cry
.

“And where might this mystery location be? Because if you say the Pier than I’m afraid I’m going to have to ruin that one for you too.”

No, I like the Pier now too.
Her cheeks heated, remembering how they met and how he grabbed her. She’d been able to picture the cut arms through his suit jackets ever since. Shaking her head, she took a sip of her coffee

“No, I like to sit next to the battery at Fort Frederica. Have you ever been there?”

“I don’t think so. Is that on the north end? I haven’t been past the movie theater.”

Yep, my end of the island.
Silence fell as they each finished their meal. His relaxed posture, his affable mood, and his ready smile didn’t fit the day.
Doesn’t he realize he has a make or break his new job event going on tonight? Why is he so calm?

“So, how are you doing?” Lizzie asked,

“I’m fine. Everything is going smoothly.”

“Really? Huh…”

“That sounded disapproving.”

“Sorry, it’s just… It’s my experience that something always goes wrong and I like the sooner rather than later approach. The earlier the event falls apart, the more time I have to fix everything.”

“Don’t worry. Everything is fine. I’m not nervous and you shouldn’t be either.”

Nodding slowly, Lizzie drained her mug. Her legs wobbled underneath her slightly as she got up from the couch and walked back to the desk.
Maybe he is the right person for his job. I’d never be so cool and calm on the day of a major event. Maybe that’s what Frank was looking for, someone who couldn’t be rattled.

* * * * *

“Mark, come on. What are we doing?” Lizzie asked an immobilized Mark only a few hours later.

The weather had held off until thirty minutes before the end of the concert, right when her day should have ended. Her feet and lower back ached from standing all day.
I want to go home and get in the tub. I don’t want to deal with this.

Holding her hair back with one hand, as the wind whipped it around, she analyzed Mark. He didn’t move and his glazed eyes looked past her.
Great, he doesn’t seem to want to deal with this either.
The dark skies threatened to unleash rain at any moment.
Large buildings surrounding the concert protected the spot from the weather, fortunately. But with nothing between the sand and the sea, the cocktail reception that had been so carefully laid out was toppling.

“I…I… I’m not sure,” he stammered, his words nearly lost against the sounds of waves crashing hundreds of feet away.

Lizzie bit her lip and considered. If she didn’t step in, if she let him fail, then she could swoop in and take the job for herself. Like she’d wanted.
I’d get the job, I’d have more prominence
and would only work on a handful of events for the entire year.
She’d hire two planners to take over at the resort and would get herself an assistant. Patrick would stop trying to force her out of her home and would come to accept the direction she’d chosen for herself.

No. I’m not going to play dirty. I’ve never been a cheat.
Why would she start now? Especially when taking advantage of the situation would push him out.

“I do,” she said.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Sam. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, it’s me. We need everyone out there now. We have to move every table inside in the corridor and then move onto the ballroom for dinner. Okay?” she told him without any pleasantries.

“Yep. I’ll meet you out here,” he replied.

Lizzie hung up and turned to look at Mark. He stood still, his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. Lizzie wanted to push him, to force him to move or otherwise act. Standing around waiting for direction wouldn’t help them save the evening.