Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) (6 page)

“Hi Lizzie,” he said, out of breath. “Sorry about the fur ball crashing on your blanket.”

“This guy? Are you kidding? He’s great,” Lizzie replied.

Mark watched her stroke the dog’s back and with each movement, Scooter relaxed and pushed himself closer against her. Mark fought an eye roll at his dog’s antics and worked on getting his breathing back to normal.

“Do you have a dog?” he asked.

“No, not right now,” she replied, keeping her eyes on Scooter. “But I grew up with dogs.”

“Me too,” the other lady piped up.

Mark looked over to her and realized how rude he’d been. He’d completely failed to acknowledge her or even glance in her direction.

“I’m so sorry,” Lizzie apologized. “Mark this is Rose, Rose this is Mark.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you Rose,” Mark said, shaking the older woman’s outstretched hand. He shot Lizzie a sideways glance, taking in the delightful blush coloring her features. He liked her blushing, it made her vulnerable and the complete antithesis of the pulled together business woman who’d run him down in the office last Friday.

Maybe I should tell her about applying for the job?
Clenching his hand into a fist until his knuckles whitened, he held his tongue. The timing was off.
I’ll tell her when she’s on her own.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Rose returned, thoroughly eyeing him up and down like he was a selection on the desert tray being brought to her table. “Where has Lizzie been hiding you?”

Mark chuckled as Lizzie’s blushed turned flame red and Rose elbowed her in the ribs. Rose had spunk. He liked her short white hair that barely skimmed the bottom of her ears, the twinkle in her eyes when she’d interrupted their conversation to be noticed, and the scent of roses that wafted up to him. He knew it wasn’t Lizzie. She didn’t wear any perfume that he could detect. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and could smell again her bar soap and fresh cotton, like her shirt had been pulled out of the dryer. He liked the practicality of it and the hominess.

“It’s such a beautiful night, we thought we’d come get some air after dance class,” Lizzie interrupted.

“Dance class?” Mark asked.

“We’re in the St. Simons Senior-itas Tap Troop,” Rose answered.

“Oh, is that how you two know each other?” Mark asked, his eyes widening.

Glad I didn’t assume she was Lizzie’s grandmother.

He learned to never assume anything about a woman. In his experience, women preferred ignorance to arrogance.

“Actually we’re next-door neighbors,” Rose answered.

“And good friends,” Lizzie chimed in nudging the older lady with her shoulder. “When I first moved here, Rose introduced me to the group.”

“Now she’s our unofficial mascot. We put her in the front row for every performance.”

“She’s being nice. I’m the worst dancer in the group. They keep me in front so they can dance around me and make my mistakes look like they’re on purpose. But it’s a lot of fun. It’s nice to have a hobby,” Lizzie said.

Mark nodded and he turned to take in the scenery. The tall grasses near the dunes swayed in the evening breeze and only a few other people walked down the beach. In less than two months, the beach would be packed with chairs and umbrellas. Kids voices would fill the quiet with screams and yells and giggles and boom boxes would blare music.

“I’ve never seen you out here before,” Mark added, stumbling over the words.

“Our rehearsal got cut short tonight. A couple of the girls are out for vacations and with the absence of our leader, the rest of us kept the practice to thirty minutes,” Rose explained.

“Our leader is a former Rockette and has…standards,” Lizzie added, raising her eyebrows at the word.

“So what they say is true about mice at play?” Mark asked, chuckling.

“Yes, one hundred percent,” Rose replied.

Lizzie nodded her head but didn’t meet his eyes. “We are a horrible cliché. But at least we own it.”

Mark cleared his throat, trying to find something, anything to keep the conversation going. “Scooter and I are out here most weeknights usually we go for a run.”

“Is that why he tore off tonight?” Lizzie asked.

“No, I think he was reliving his glory days. Have you seen anyone on the beach who might have thrown the ball?”

Both Lizzie and Rose shook their heads dismissively. Mark wanted to keep talking to her. He liked talking to her.
She must be the happiest person I’ve ever met, she always wears a beaming smile.
Standing next to her, or over her in his current state, some of her joy rubbed off on him.
Lighter and brighter
, even thinking the words had him grinning.

“Have you heard—“ Mark stopped himself.

…
anything about the job?
Of course, she hadn’t. He knew that. Frank had told him as much when he’d begged him to submit his resume that morning.

He cleared his throat. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“No, I have Tuesdays off. I had today off too. It took some adjusting but now I’m used to it. It’s nice to run errands when offices are open and most people are working,” she trailed off.

She hates silences
. He’d have to file that away for reference. Watching her squirm and readjust her leggings, he rather liked her uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to speak again.

“I don’t know about working,” Rose said, beating Lizzie to the punch.

“I guess you’re right. This island is full of retirees, but you know what I mean.”

Do you want to get something to eat?
He opened his mouth to ask. The words formed so easily, it gave him pause. His instincts screamed at him to ask her out, to get to know her, and to do it before he told her that he was competition for the Manager role.

But his head told him to shut his mouth. He couldn’t go with his gut anymore, not after he’d been so wrong about his ex. And at the moment, his stomach tossed and turned.

No, it wasn’t the time. She was with company and he had Scooter. They weren’t exactly set up for an impromptu date.
Date?

“I’d better get this guy back home,” Mark said. “It was nice to see you.”

“You too,” Lizzie agreed.

“Nice to meet you Rose.”

Rose smiled. “I hope to see you again. Actually, if Lizzie hasn’t already done so, let me invite you to our next performance. It’ll be in a few weeks. Lizzie can tell you the details when they’re firmed up.”

“Rose, I’m sure Mark is too busy.”

“No, not at all. I’ll look forward to it,” he replied.

Mark smiled as he watched Lizzie look down at her feet. Did he detect a slight flush on her cheeks? Had he embarrassed her? Or Rose? He wanted to stay and find out. He wanted to get to know her better. Mark glanced down to his dog, pressed up against her like a warm blanket on her bare legs. He couldn’t stand over them any longer without anything to say.

“Come on Scooter,” Mark patted his leg.

Reluctantly, the dog lifted his head and then got to his feet. Mark bent down to attach the leash to his collar, not giving him another chance to run off. The dog turned to give Lizzie one final, longing look, and she petted him on the head.

“It was nice meeting you Scooter.”

“Have a good night ladies.” Mark turned to walk away with the dog.

He ambled down the beach and didn’t turn until the sun had begun to dip below the sea, using the sunset as a cover for looking back at them. Mark bent down to pet Scooter. He wanted to kick himself for not figuring out a way to ask her to dinner. He’d never hesitated with a beautiful woman before, why had he let circumstances change him. He found himself analyzing every look or word, wanting to be sure of mutual interest before putting himself out there. Mark sighed and watched the sun dip down completely, making it look like the whole world would burn.

“We’ll see her again buddy, I promise.”

The dog’s tail began to wag and slapped against Mark’s thighs. He’d never broken a promise made to the dog. And he had no intention of starting now.

The reminder alarm on Lizzie’s phone beeped. Fifteen minutes to go. She sat in her car in front of the office building waiting for interview time. She’d already been waiting for twenty, reapplying her make-up and giving herself a pep talk. She pulled down the visor and lifted the cover on the mirror, surveying herself. Her hair stayed smooth and straight for the most part, although she saw the beginning of a wave from the humidity in a stray strand. She tucked it behind her ear.

“You can do this. You are capable, you are creative, and you are confident,” she repeated as she slid out of the car.

The grass had been freshly mowed and the sweet, tangy smell brought back memories from happy summers throughout childhood. With each heel click against the tiny shells in the tabby path, confidence and determination swelled.
Maybe I’ve only been working full-time for nine months, and I haven’t really been supervised during that time…

No, stop it.
This was her moment and this job was hers for the taking. Putting one foot in front of the other, she continued down the path and started thinking of everything she did the best.

If it’s possible, I specialize in happily ever after’s. Every single binder, since I’ve taken over, contains a final email of glowing praise for my efforts.

Would bringing those recommendations have been a good idea? The proof was in the positive reviews posted on the Internet and the never-ending stream of referrals, eager for their special day. Was there enough time to run to the office to get them? No, there wasn’t.

You are capable, you are creative, and you are confident,
she reminded herself.

Gazing out at the hotel, she marveled at its grandeur as she had nearly every day since she’d started. Its turrets rose high above the trees, beckoning to anyone who approached. Working fewer hours with the new job and with the burden of the estate lifted, maybe she’d get a chance to enjoy the historic district.

Maybe I could even enjoy it with Mark
. She smiled to herself as she entered the building and walked up the stairs.
Which one is his office?

Nailing the interview and then going out to coffee with him sounded like a perfect day. Her phone alarm buzzed again. She snapped back to reality. She could loiter in the hall later. She strode towards the office and entered without knocking. The secretary raised her head when she saw her.

“Hello, I’m Liz—Elizabeth Shaw,” she said, correcting herself. She didn’t need another lecture about introductions; although she was sure one was coming.

The secretary nodded and turned to check off something on a sheet of paper.

“Please go in, he’s expecting you.”

She nodded and crossed towards the closed door. She fisted her hand and raised it to pound on the solid oak door, and then hesitated. Lizzie closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
You are capable, you are creative, you are confident and you are going to nail this
, she told herself one final time.

Rapping her fist twice against the door, she clasped her hands together in front. After a moment’s pause, Frank called out.

“Come in,” his voice boomed.

She turned the doorknob and opened the door gingerly, careful not to let it slam against the wall. Using both hands to do the task and muffle the sounds of the action, she shut the door. She turned to face Frank Cade and offered a nervous grin that faltered into a grimace when she caught his scowl. He half-stood in his chair behind the large partner’s desk and motioned for her to take a seat opposite him.

Striding across the room and she lowered herself into the wingback chair he indicated. Crossing her legs at the ankles, keeping her hands clasped together in her lap, and perching on the very front edge of the seat, she waited for him to speak first. Large leather chairs, heavy mahogany furniture, and dark paneling that covered every wall including the door, gave the impression that she’d stumbled into a secret boys’ club.
Great, a good ole boy, just what I need
. 

Her straight-backed posture was the only indication of her nerves. She kept her eyes focused on him, unwavering, even as he gave her a very through visual assessment. She didn’t squirm. She stayed perfectly still in her chair.

At last, he relented and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So, Lizzie,” he began.

On his tongue, her nickname sounded like an insult. She flinched and then tried to cover it with a smile. She’d practice killing him with kindness, she decided, hoping to get the same in return.

“Why do you think you can take on the Manager of Special Events role?” he asked eyeing her closely.

“I have been working in events here for a while now and have filled every free weekend for the next eighteen months with weddings and events based on referrals alone. I think that says a lot.”

He nodded his head but the gesture didn’t seem to signal agreement, in her opinion. His eyes looked glassy and bored.
Had he expected that answer?

“What qualifications do you have?”

“I’m resourceful and I think that’s an important trait for events. I do very well thinking of solutions to problems on the fly when a crisis arises.”

Mr. Cade glowered at her but didn’t respond.
Should I not mention problems? That’s a fundamental part of my job.

“Every event has at least one crisis, and guest are never any the wiser,” she continued. She heard her voice crack, as if she was an onlooker observing the interview.

“You mentioned that you’ve booked every weekend for the next eighteen months, and I’m glad you brought that up,” he said.

A grin stretched her lips. Finally, he’d acknowledged one of her accomplishments. This she could talk about. This she wanted to talk about.

But Mr. Cade didn’t immediately continue. Her grin grew broader, like a pageant contestant waiting to answer a judge’s question about how she would change the world. Her lips dried while she waited for him to get to the point. She faltered, her cheeks giving out under the stress of holding the pose. She fought through and kept her smile on her face. She imagined any tiny action, even licking her cracking lips, signaled weakness.

“I can’t help but bring up the fact that you have not assessed or put into action any ways to raise your profits,” he said, pursing his lips.

The grin slid off her face and she pressed her lips together. She hadn’t prepared for this.
Let him finish before you say anything
.

“You’ve been the lead planner for a while now and you’ve locked in eighteen months of weddings at prices from three years ago,” he concluded.

I haven’t been the lead planner. I’ve been the only planner
she wanted to yell. She was supposed to be increasing the revenue? When she’d been hired, she’d been told that weddings were meant to be small profit one-time events to attract long-term returning customers. Filling up the resort with paying guests had been the main goal, or so she’d been told. No one had approached her to discuss revenue before. But how could she bring any of that up to Frank Cade without looking inexperienced?

Eager to learn and improve her skills, she’d admit to bumbling through some aspects of the business, trying to gain knowledge as she went. Sure, eights months ago she’d let a bride book a wedding without a deposit. And then that bride had ended up pulling the event at the last minute and the resort had lost out on a lot of money. But she’d learned from that mistake and vowed to never repeat it.

She stayed silent and fought to keep herself under control. She didn’t need her cheeks to burn from her embarrassment or stress. It would only make her look younger and even more inexperienced.

“You don’t have anything to say about that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Was he challenging her?
Maybe if you paid better you’d get the experienced planners you’re looking for
she thought. The long hours and modest salary had been why the other planner had left. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak. But he beat her to the chance.

“I think you have a lot to learn,” he began, leaning back in his chair and narrowing his eyes again. “And quite honestly, I don’t feel very good about the idea of letting someone so green take on such a big responsibility.”

“I do have a lot to learn,” she agreed, jumping in to the conversation before he had a chance to show her the door. She realized it was fight or flight time and she intended to fight.

“And, I am ready and eager to do that. Yes, I have more to learn about the business side. But I am the most experienced person on this property when it comes to running events. I don’t agree that this is any bigger of a responsibility than what I am already doing.”

He opened his mouth to reply but Lizzie would not be interrupted. She had to get her opinions out. She had to be heard.

“Putting on a big event – no matter what it is, from a barbecue to a concert – is about more than numbers. It’s about handling people. And that is my specialty and it can’t be taught. You can’t teach someone how to keep a crisis under wraps, how to be calm in a storm, how to soothe hurt feelings and stop frustrations. You can teach anyone business. But you can’t teach personality,” she said, her words tumbling out, each faster than the last.

He uncrossed his arms, furrowed his brow, and held her gaze for several seconds. She lifted her chin higher. If he thought he could intimidate her, then he was dead wrong. She’d have enough. She’d been underestimated before. Her parents had undervalued her and hadn’t that caused all of her problems? Wasn’t she forced out by their miscalculation? She refused to let that happen again.

“I think we’re done here Miss Shaw,” he said, getting up from his chair and walking to the door to let her out.

Her mouth gaped but she recovered quickly and shut it as she watched him. That was it? What was going on here? As far as she knew, she was the only candidate at the resort for this job. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say? She grabbed her purse from the floor and stood. She walked over to him and extended her hand for a shake.

For a long moment, her hand hovered in the air and he stared at it. He wouldn’t even shake her hand? Every curse word she’d ever heard raced through her mind until her thoughts were a jumble of inappropriate exclamations. Finally, he grabbed her hand. He held it in his limp grip and shook dropping it quickly. She longed to wipe her hand on her pantsuit after his cold, clammy handshake.

Without another word or a backwards glance, she left. Wrenching open the outer door, stomping down the stairs, and marching out of the hotel and across the manicured lawn, she never once stopped to turn around. A creamy heron took off from the marsh, its light feathers further highlighted against the darkening, overcast sky. Its neck retracted and its legs held back, the bird and its large wingspan put on quite the aeronautic display.

Several hotel guests congregated at the edge of the river to watch. Lizzie ignored it all, not stopping until she reached her office.
He didn’t even bother to listen to me. What a jerk. Does he have someone else in mind? He was so dismissive of me. How’s that possible to have another candidate? And who?

Her phone rang in her purse.

“Hello?” She answered, sinking onto the couch.

“How did it go?” Rose asked. “Are we off for a celebratory dinner tonight?”

Raising her face to the ceiling, frustration at the whole episode made her want to yell. But the window air conditioning unit still hadn’t been replaced and the shouts would be too loud to hide. And she didn’t want to startle or alarm Rose.

“Okay, maybe it’s too early to celebrate?”

Lizzie blew out a sigh. “I think it’s time to start considering another option.”

“Is there one?”

“I guess it’s time to find out Rose. I can’t leave this island. It’s become my home.”

Never thought I’d say that.
Letting out a hoarse chuckle that threated to turn into a sob, she took in another deep breath. She’d never intended to stay and had balked at the suggestion when it had been first brought up. But slowly, she’d found her place. She’d been rebuilding her life with this demanding job that she loved and a dear friend who had become her family.

“Don’t give up honey, we’ll figure it out. Come home. Maybe we can at least go out for drown-your-troubles ice cream.”

“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. I’ll see you soon.”

“You are confident, you are creative, and you are capable,” she whispered, reminding herself as she stretched out onto her back.

The first time she’d seen the office, she’d been thrown off by the couch against the wall. But her predecessor had assured her it would come in handy, and it had. Between her own late nights spent at the office and the cozy, relaxing atmosphere she provided for her brides, the couch turned the office into a comfortable shelter.

Her nose tickled and her eyes welled up. She couldn’t cry; she’d used up every last tear she had six months before at her parents’ funeral. She refused to feel sorry for herself. When she’d endured that day, it had come with the understanding that no matter what else happened or whatever came next there could never be a terrible day in her life again. No, she needed to be resourceful and start thinking about what her next steps were.