“Hello, gentlemen,” Elizabeth aims a polite smile in their direction but makes no move to get closer. She must’ve seen the kiss out of the window and is keeping her distance. Smart woman. “I hope Fitz’s Mansion is exactly what you’re looking for for your event. Of course, if there is anything we can do to help, we would love to do just that. Fitz’s Mansion has hosted some of our country’s biggest names and most extraordinary leaders. We strive to make all events as perfect as possible.”
Mr. Mahler and Mr. Carlin both nod, but keep their mouths shut. Something that brings me way too much joy.
“Could you give us a tour?” I really do want a tour, but Elizabeth’s presence has also seemed to calm both of the men with me, and keeping her close is in my best interest.
When we talked on the phone, we discussed that Mr. Mahler and I would be able to walk around on our own and then go back to her with any questions once we finished looking around. I’m worried that she’ll say no, but when her eyes soften and a sympathetic smile crosses her face, relief courses through me.
“I’d be happy to,” she says. “Let me just grab a notebook so I can write some things down as we go.”
She walks back into her office and when I turn around, Mr. Mahler and Mr. Carlin are huddled together, speaking in hushed tones.
Quinton’s warning about not trusting Mr. Mahler pops into my mind unbidden.
The more I’m around Mr. Mahler, the less I like him. Neither one of these men gives me good vibes. I mean, I don’t even want to walk around the venue alone with them, for goodness sake.
I don’t know if it’s because I can still taste Quinton’s lips on mine or if I’m starting to recognize things I’ve been ignoring for the last couple of months, but I’m beginning to regret agreeing to plan this event for Mr. Mahler.
—
“SO,” ELIZABETH COOS once we’ve made our way back to the entryway or, as Elizabeth calls it, the foyer. “What did you think? Will Fitz’s Mansion be the site of your fundraising event?”
I hold my breath and cross my fingers behind my back. With every gold accent Elizabeth pointed out and historical anecdote she told, the doubts I had about working with Mr. Mahler faded. What could possibly be wrong with me getting to plan an event in this beautiful venue? Visions of centerpieces overflowing with every white flower I can get my hands on and white twinkly lights fill my mind. I can envision every piece of this event, all I need is Mr. Mahler’s approval.
He leans over and whispers something in Mr. Carlin’s ear and not surprisingly, Mr. Carlin nods yes to whatever he’s hearing. During the tour, it became more apparent that even though Mr. Mahler introduced Mr. Carlin as a business partner at Quinton’s launch, he doesn’t hold any weight when it comes to this event. He basically just agreed with everything that Mr. Mahler said. Not saying I blame Mr. Mahler for bringing him. If I had a hype man, I too would bring them with me everywhere.
Mr. Mahler claps his hands together before revealing his freakishly white teeth. “Let’s do it,” he says. “This will be the perfect location for the fundraiser.”
“I’m so glad! I knew you would just love this place.” I can’t hide my excitement. “If you want to wait here, I’ll go confirm the date with Elizabeth and get her settled with the nondisclosure and then I’ll meet you back in the dining room to tell you my vision.”
“Perfect. We’ll see you in a moment, dear.” He turns to walk away but I’m so excited that he gave me the go-ahead to book the Fitz that I don’t even care about him calling me “dear.”
After I settle everything with Elizabeth, I take a little detour as I make my way back to Mr. Mahler. I walk down the empty hallways, listening as my stilettos echo against the mosaic marble floors. In school, history was always my favorite subject. There’s just something about hearing stories about the way people used to live and how every decision had such massive repercussions on the world around them. Now, walking down this hallway, I can’t help but imagine the world as it was when the Fitz family moved into this house and walked down this very hall every day.
I push open the heavy wooden door to the dining room, ready to get down to business. Like the ghosts of the Fitz women are helping me be the boss they weren’t allowed to be, my spine straightens as I approach Mr. Mahler.
“So?” I gesture to the room around us. “What do you think of this being the location for the dinner?”
“Dining room” doesn’t seem to really describe the room we’re standing in. If we use long tables, we can easily fit forty people in here. The massive crystal chandelier falling from the center of the room catches the sun’s rays from the window and covers the room in tiny rainbows.
“I think it’s perfect. Just the kind of high-class event I knew we could pull together.”
Just like at Quinton’s event, his inclusion of himself where he did nothing irritates the shit out of me. Also like at Quinton’s event, I bite my tongue and smile.
“I agree.” It’s so hard to say and I can feel my eye starting to twitch as the words leave my mouth. “Now, you still haven’t given me many details, but from what I do know, I was thinking we could
