“I probably didn’t need to mention it, but—”
“No, I’m glad you did.” Especially since his own rules didn’t quite fit. He didn’t date employees, but Julia was a contractor and her own boss. “Anything else?”
“Just one thing.” She hesitated. “I don’t want to dwell on the past, but there’s something I’d like to . . . to clarify. But not right now. It’s late and I’m tired from the drive home.”
He was curious, but Julia’s needs came first. “That’s fine. Just let me know.”
“I will. Thanks.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that’s it. I’ll see you Monday at four o’clock sharp.”
Julia gave Zeke a cheerful good-bye, leapt to her feet, and did what Max called her happy dance, the one where she pretended to wave pom-poms. Planning a massive wedding in thirty days would test her skills, but she thrived on challenge.
“Mommy!” Max’s muffled voice came through the closed door.
Before she could open it, he barged in and charged at her with his Cars pajamas sticking to his damp skin. Dropping back on the bed, she pulled him into a hug. A bath usually calmed him, but not tonight.
Ellen, red-faced from the steam and chasing Max, arrived in the doorway. “Did you speak to Zeke?”
“It’s all settled.” She told her mom about the plan to leave Monday. “Should we take your car? It’s more reliable.”
“That’s fine. I’ll tell Winnie tomorrow and forward the house mail to the shop.” A relaxed smile arched her lips. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
Julia kissed the top of Max’s wet head. “Guess what? We’re going on a vacation.”
“Yay!” He did his own happy dance, waving his arms and stomping his feet while shouting “yay” over and over, though he didn’t really know what a vacation was.
Julia rolled her eyes at her mom. “I’ll finish bedtime.”
“Good luck!” Ellen blew a kiss to Max, traded a sympathetic look with Julia, then slipped down the hall, no doubt ready for some peace and quiet.
Julia led Max to his room, listening as he talked a mile a minute. They all paid when Hunter indulged him in too many treats, but Max paid the highest price of all. When he didn’t get enough rest, he was prone to the sniffles, and sniffles led to ear infections.
Swallowing her frustration, she tucked him into bed and took Goodnight Moon off the shelf. She read it in her most soothing voice, and eventually Max yawned. Relieved, she closed the book, turned out the lamp, and folded her hands for their bedtime prayer. When Max did the same, Julia’s heart swelled with a mother’s love. “Father God, Max and I thank you for today.”
“And for the zoo. And for elephidents.”
“And for Grammie.”
His fingers, laced loosely on his chest, tightened into a fist. “And for the stuff daddy bought me.”
Julia appreciated his gratitude, but she wanted Max to have a more grounded perspective on blessings. “Thank you, God, for the food we eat. And for the roof over our heads. And for loving us.”
“And for Daddy and Mommy and for—for—” His eyes popped open. “I want Daddy to live with us.”
They had this conversation often, and Julia struggled with it every time. Wishing life didn’t ever have to hurt, she smoothed Max’s hair. “I know you do, honey.”
“Why can’t he?”
When Max was older, she’d answer every question he asked. But now he needed words he could understand. “This is a decision for grown-ups. What you need to remember is that Mommy and Daddy both love you. And so does God.”
“Can I pray for God to bring Daddy back?”
The words cut straight to Julia’s heart. This was the first time Max had mentioned praying to God on his own, and she desperately wanted to give him good answers. Did she tell her son he could ask God for anything, but that sometimes the answer was no? It seemed like sage advice, so that was what she did.
Max, his expression solemn, closed his eyes again. “Please, God, I want my daddy to live with us. And God, I want Mommy to be nice to Daddy. I love her lots and lots.”
Lord, help me. Julia would give anything to fix the mess she’d made for Max, but she didn’t have that ability. All she could do was trust God with all her heart like Proverbs said. Surely He knew what was best for this innocent child, her, and even Hunter.
With her chest aching, she said, “Amen,” kissed Max’s warm forehead, and went to start packing for a month at Caliente Springs.
nine
Zeke was in the maintenance garage on Monday afternoon when his cell phone buzzed. Hoping it was Julia reporting her travel progress, he stole a glance and saw a message from Rhonda, the administrative assistant filling in for Irene.
Ms. Travers is here. PLS CALL.
The caps put him on full alert. After a word with Kevin Dailey, the head of maintenance, Zeke stepped out of the staff meeting and called Rhonda from the hallway.
“What’s going on?”
“Ms. Travers wants to see you before the four o’clock meeting. I told her you were up in maintenance, but she said to call.”
Zeke glanced at his watch. Ginger was an hour early. “Where is she?”
“The conference room. It’s already set up.”
That was a plus. “Is Tiff with her?”
“No.”
That was a minus. “Tell her I’m on my way.”
Zeke hung up, strode to his SUV, and arrived at the main hotel in nine minutes, just long enough to imagine a dozen reasons why Ginger had arrived early. He parked in his usual spot, grabbed a quick drink at the water fountain, and rounded the corner into the conference room.
Ginger stood at the window, her back to him and her eyes on the straw-colored hills. Tall and slender, dressed in an ivory pantsuit, with her short hair colored to platinum perfection, she possessed the poise of a star and the command of a CEO, one who didn’t mind wielding the ax.
“Hello, Ginger.”
She faced him wearing a wistful expression, blinked to erase it, and frowned. “I’m not happy about this wedding.”
George and Ginger disagreed on just about everything, so Zeke had navigated these waters before. “That’s between you, George, and Tiff.”
“Yes, it is. And I’ll get to that later. I came early to speak with you about something else.”
Preparing for a debate, either an old one or something new, he nodded crisply.
Ginger turned back to the window but didn’t speak. Zeke followed her gaze to the boisterous clouds towering in the brilliant blue sky. Below them, the hills were a lifeless brown.
She gave a slow shake of her head. “This place is shriveling in front of my eyes. George thinks you can turn it around. I don’t.”
“It’s my job to prove you wrong.” He kept his voice light, but they were dueling nonetheless.
She sized him up with a long look. “I know you have four months left on your contract, but I want to start the sale process now. That means finding a real estate broker.”
“What does George say?” As co-owner, he would need to sign any official documents.
“You know George. He has no business sense, but I intend to persuade him. This place is a money pit.”
“It won’t be in a year.”
“You don’t really know that.”
“True,” he said. “But we have a good shot at pulling in Carter Home Goods. We’re looking at their annual sales meeting plus a large number of employee vacation packages.”
Ginger’s eyes lit up, but the spark dimmed instantly. “I admire your optimism, Zeke. But it’s not enough.”
“It’s a start.”
“Maybe, but I’m afraid you’re the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike. I want this place to succeed as much as you do, but I refuse to waste another cent on a lost cause.”
Zeke propped a hip on the table. “You can’t give up yet. We have employees who have been here thirty years. Women
like Irene—”
“I know that.”
“Sorry. It’s just—”
“Don’t you think I care?” Ginger’s voice rose with each word. “I do. But I can’t wave a magic wand and fix the problems.”
Zeke backed down. There was no point in antagonizing Ginger, and she was right to be worried. Summer occupancy was down from last year, and the fall quarter was under-booked. Water and landscaping costs were through the roof, and most of the guest rooms were in desperate need of a facelift. The answer to the problem was capital, but borrowing wasn’t an option. George hated debt as much as he hated drinking.
Ginger breathed a sigh. “Ideally we’ll find someone who appreciates the character of this place. The right buyer might even expand it. Jobs could be saved, not lost.”
Zeke doubted it. In his experience, if CS was sold to a big corporation, there would be cuts to staffing and benefits. His job would be the first one to go. As a single man without a family, he could start over anywhere, but what would happen to employees like Ashley, John, and Chet?
Ginger surveyed the table neatly arranged with writing tablets, pens bearing the resort’s logo, and a tray holding bottled water. Brows furrowed, she glanced at the wall clock. “It’s almost four. Have you heard from Tiff?”
“Not since Friday.”
“Maybe she’s come to her senses.”
Before he could reply, footsteps tapped down the hall. Zeke hoped it was Julia, but Tiff zipped through the door and flew into Ginger’s arms.
“Aunt Ginger, you look great.”
“Thank you, honey. So do you.” Ginger hugged her hard and long, but when they broke apart, the steel returned to her silvery blue eyes. “Darling, are you sure about this wedding?”
“Positive.”
Ginger’s nostrils flared. “I’m sorry to say it, Tiffany dear, but I’m not.”
Zeke didn’t want to be caught in the middle. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“Sure,” Tiff answered. “Is Julia here yet? We talked yesterday for three hours. She’s great.”
Zeke glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes to four, and he hadn’t heard from either Julia or Javier, who had instructions to text Zeke the instant she arrived. “She’ll be here any minute,” he said with more hope than confidence. “If you two are settled, I’m going to take care of a few things.”
“We’re fine,” Ginger answered. “This will give me a chance to talk some sense into Tiff.”
“Aunt Ginger!” Tiff laughed, but there was an edge to it.
The instant Zeke stepped into the hall, he checked his phone for a text from Julia. Seeing nothing, he went to his office, called Javier, and learned that she hadn’t arrived. He skimmed the messages written by Rhonda, glanced again at the clock, and shot a text to Julia.
Where are you?
When she didn’t reply, the acid in his stomach burned even hotter. It wasn’t like her to be late. Car trouble? Kid trouble? He blinked and imagined fire trucks, flashing lights, and twisted car frames. With his phone dark in his hand, he recalled a January night at St. John’s. Julia had been in a hurry to leave, but he’d been caught on the phone. Rather than wait for him to walk her to her car, a St. John’s policy, she handed him a note. Have to go. Will call when I get home.
Except she didn’t call. Two hours later, after frantically driving through the grid of streets between St. John’s and her apartment, an area known for violent crime, he found her car with a flat tire and Julia locked inside with a dead phone.
She had flung herself into his arms, called him her hero, and whispered I love you for the first time.
I love you too, he whispered back.
They had stood under a dim streetlight, wrapped in each other’s arms, until he reminded her that he needed to change a flat tire.
Six years, yet he remembered every detail of her face, that kiss, following her home, and taking the flat tire to a gas station to be patched.
A slow breath hissed from his lips. Julia would always be special to him, but the past was the past. Annoyed with himself, he shoved up from his desk chair. There was no real reason to worry about her, at least not yet, so he returned to the conference room.
When he stepped inside, Tiff and Ginger were seated across from each other, Tiff with her back to the door and Ginger facing forward. Guessing he’d have to play referee, Zeke sat between them at the head of the table.
While Ginger drummed her fingers, Tiff scrolled through social media posts on her phone. Zeke watched the clock, staring as the long hand swept away another minute and made Julia officially late.
He opened his mouth to make excuses, but Ginger stopped him with a withering look. “Your wedding planner is late.”
“She’ll be here.” Zeke said it more for his benefit than Ginger’s.
Air hissed through Ginger’s nose. “Tiff and I made it on time. It’s a matter of planning.”
Tiff passed her aunt a bottle of water. “I’m sure Julia’s on her way. Who cares about five minutes anyway?”
Julia did, and so did Ginger. The clock swept away another two minutes.
To distract Ginger, Zeke looked out the window. “It sure is hot today.”
“It’s August,” Ginger shot back. “Of course it’s hot. Don’t try to distract me with the weather. How did you meet this woman?”
“She’s the event planner representing Carter Home Goods.” That didn’t seem like enough, so he added, “We were friends in college.”
“USC or Berkeley?”
“Berkeley.”
Ginger shoved the water aside. “Did she learn to tell time, or just how to change the world?”
Zeke was used to Ginger riding him, but he couldn’t tolerate the disrespect to Julia. He opened his mouth to defend her but sealed it when his phone flashed with a text from Javier.
In the same instant, Julia charged into the room, out of breath, her face as pink as the tunic top that capped off her black pants, which were creased from the drive. Fresh lipstick hid some of her nervousness, but the messy bun holding her hair told a different story.
Zeke stood to greet her.
Inhaling deeply, she splayed her fingers at the base of her throat. “I am so sorry to be late. There’s no excuse—”
“Forget it.” Tiff stood and hugged her, awkwardly because Julia was still holding her purse and portfolio.
If he downplayed her late arrival, maybe Ginger would drop the scowl. “We’re glad you made it.”
“Yes. At last.” Julia blew out a breath that lifted a wisp of her hair. “I had a meeting this morning. It ran late, plus my son woke up with a fever. It’s been crazy, but that’s no excuse. Late is late, and I apologize.”
Ginger studied her with a cool stare, her chin raised and her shoulders back. She didn’t say a word.
Tiff nodded like a bobblehead. “Stuff like that happens to me all the time. Uncle George says I’ll be late to my own funeral.”
Zeke stifled a groan. Just what he needed—a bride with a punctuality problem, a stand-in mother of the bride with a stopwatch, and a wedding planner with a sick child. As important as this meeting was to him personally, he couldn’t help but worry about Max. He’d ask about him later and in private.
“Shall we get started?” he said.
Tiff sat, but Julia stayed on her feet, turned to Ginger, and waited for Zeke to make a formal introduction. Smart woman. Ginger would recognize the respect.
“Ginger,” Zeke said, “this is Julia Dare, owner of Dare to Dream Events.”
Julia dipped her chin as if she were meeting royalty. “Miss Travers. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Thank you, dear.” Condescension dripped from every word, but if Julia noticed, she ignored it.
Zeke indicated she should sit. As the chairs dragged on the carpet, all eyes turned to Julia. More composed now, she pulled a computer tablet out of the portfolio along with three folders sporting the Dare to Dream logo. Zeke opened his and found a slick brochure
, a Dare to Dream pen, notepaper, and a “save the date” magnet trimmed with polka dots.
Tiff held up the magnet. “Cute.”
Ginger slid her unopened folder six inches away. “This is all very nice, dear. But let’s be serious for a moment.”
Zeke interrupted. “Ginger, Julia’s doing her job.”
“Her job is irrelevant.” Ginger shot icy daggers at him first, then Julia, and finally at Tiff, though the daggers at Tiff melted instantly and put a sheen in Ginger’s eyes. “Tiffany, dear, someone has to be realistic. You and Derek are rushing into this.”
Tiff returned Ginger’s tough look with one of her own. “I love Derek and we want to get married. I thought you liked him.”
“I do.”
“Then why aren’t you happy for us?”
Zeke stole a glance at Julia. Her expression stayed neutral, but she was listening and watching, ready to jump into the fray if needed.
Ginger sat taller in her chair. “You’re too young to get married.”
“I’m twenty-two. My mom was twenty-one when she married my dad. They had a good marriage too.”
“Yes,” Ginger admitted, “but there’s no reason for you to rush into this.”
“I admit, the wedding is rushed,” Tiff said. “But we’re not rushing into marriage. We’ve been together two years now.”
Ginger, using one pink fingernail, nudged the Dare to Dream folder another inch away. “Even if I agreed that marriage at your age is wise, you can’t pull off the wedding you want in just a month.”
“I think we can,” Tiff argued. “And there’s no choice about the date. Derek leaves for Alaska on October first. I want to go as his wife. I also want the dress, the flowers, and all those special moments. My mom and I used to talk about it, so this is for her too. Is that wrong?”
“No, honey. It’s not wrong at all.” Ginger’s face softened, maybe with memories. “Your mom was my best friend. I want you to have that special day. I just don’t think we can pull it off so quickly. We need time to plan. Why not just live together?”
Tiff shook her head. “That’s not what I want.”
“Ms. Travers?”
Someone Like You Page 8
