Presley has imagined this house a thousand times. She expected 1950s Happy Days. While the layout is traditional—central hallway with living room on the left and dining room on the right, the decor follows current-day trends of neutral palettes with pops of color. They round a corner into an updated kitchen with stainless steel appliances and stone countertops, white with gray veining. Rita stands at the island tossing a salad while Abigail sets four places at a farm table in the adjoining family room.
When she sees Presley, Rita puts down her salad tongs and gives her a hug.
“I love your home,” Presley says.
Rita smiles. “Thank you. The girls and I took over the house after my parents moved into a retirement home last year. They lived here nearly sixty years. The place needed a face-lift. We hired a contractor to remodel the kitchen and baths, but the girls and I did most of the painting and wallpapering throughout the rest of the house.”
Abigail finishes setting the table and comes to stand beside her mother, smiling shyly at Presley.
Rita places an arm around her younger daughter’s waist, pulling her close. “Emma is the one with style. She was in charge. Abigail and I took orders from her.” Rita gives Abigail a squeeze. “Didn’t we, sweetheart?” Warmth spreads throughout Presley’s body at the abundant love in this kitchen.
Emma cracks the oven door and peeks inside. “The lasagna’s ready. I hope you don’t mind if we eat,” she says to Presley. “I really need to get back to studying.”
“Anything’s fine with me,” Presley says. “What can I do to help?”
Rita removes a vase from a cabinet. “You can put those lovely flowers in this.”
Presley takes the vase from her. “Katherine, the groundskeeper at the farm, cut these especially for you.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you both,” Rita says. “Thank you.”
Rita and the girls put the finishing touches on dinner while Presley arranges the flowers in the vase. “Where are you girls thinking about going to college?”
“Cornell is on the top of my list,” Emma says. “As I’m sure you know, they have one of the best hospitality management degrees in the country. Chad and I want to go to the same school, but I’m not sure he can get in with his grades.”
“Cornell?” Presley says. “Smart girl.”
Emma hooks her arm around her sister’s neck. “Abigail’s the smart one. She’s going to be a doctor. And she’s athletic. She’s already committed to play lacrosse at UVA.”
This surprises Presley. Not the UVA part. At the hockey game, she heard UVA was recruiting Abigail. “You’re going to play lacrosse? Not field hockey?”
Emma cuts her eyes at Presley. “How do you know she plays field hockey?”
Presley loves it that Emma is so protective of her family. “I’ve seen you with your hockey sticks, when I walk by in the mornings and you’re on your way to school.”
“Oh. Right. Duh.” Emma hip-bumps her sister. “UVA wanted Abby for hockey, too. But lacrosse is her passion.”
“Congratulations. D1 Lacrosse is a huge deal.” Presley smiles at Abigail who looks uncomfortable being the center of attention.
When Emma announces dinner is ready, they fill their plates with lasagna, salad, and crusty bread. At the table, the three Reed women take their places—Rita at the head with Emma on her right and Abigail on her left—and Presley sits down in the vacant chair beside Emma. After Rita offers a simple blessing, they commence eating.
“So, Presley,” Emma says, forking off a chunk of lasagna. “When did you decide to become an event planner?”
“When I was about six,” Presley says with a little laugh. “My mom was always throwing parties to entertain her clients. I learned a lot from hanging out with the florists and caterers.”
“What does your mother do?” Rita asks.
“She was a producer for a major country music record label.”
Emma drops her fork. “Shut up! That’s badass. Does she represent any big names?”
Presley lists the names of some of Renee’s top stars.
Emma says, “Cool! I wanna meet her. Is she coming to see you soon?”
“Unfortunately, my mom died a few months ago.”
Emma gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
Rita dabs at her mouth with her napkin. “That must have been difficult for you.”
Presley presses her lips into a thin smile. “It’s been a tough year.”
Jabbing a forkful of lettuce, Emma says, “So, tell me about your career, Presley.”
Presley pinches off a bite of crusty bread. “Well, let’s see. After graduating from Alabama, I worked for a few years at a country club in Nashville before accepting a job with a firm in New York that plans elaborate affairs for movie stars and politicians. I was getting ready to move to New York when my mom became ill. Her disease was debilitating but not crippling. With my help, she was able to work until a month before she died. I pretty much ran her life.”
“That’s what I wanna do! Plan parties for the rich and famous.”
They talk for a while about the pros and cons of a career in event planning. Abigail is noticeably quiet, and Presley attempts to draw her in, to no avail.
When they finish eating, Emma says, “Thank you for sharing your experience, Presley. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to study. I’m trying to keep my grades up.”
“I totally understand. And thank you for having me.” Presley wipes her mouth and sets her linen napkin on the table. “You have the right personality for event planning, Emma. You’re creative and resourceful and outgoing. You will do great.”
Emma’s face lights up. “Do you think so, really?”
“I do,” Presley says. “Would you be interested in working with me over the holidays? I’d have to clear it with Stella first, but I could use your help. As an intern. I’m not sure we’d be able to pay you.”
Emma’s blue eyes are enormous. “Are you kidding? I’ll pay you for an opportunity like
