“As for centerpieces, I’d like white and gold vases. The flowers, I’d like white lilies and red roses. Clean and classic. Gold silverware, white china with a gold trim. Chairs, white as well, and slipcovers will do just fine, if need be. The band will be up on the stage,” he says, turning to look at it. “I’d like instrumental, no vocalist. It’s impossible to carry on a conversation when someone is singing at the top of their lungs. That’s the whole point of this party. I want to meet the townspeople, get to know them, let them get to know me.”
I nod and write it all down.
“Now, for the menu, I’ll leave that up to you, but I don’t want any fried chicken or fondue. Stick with traditional. Steak, chicken, and fish. I’d like a dessert menu as well, and of course a wine menu even though the bar will be open and fully functional.”
“Will I need to hire on a waitstaff, or will the hotel employees be handling that?”
“Right now, there are no employees since the hotel isn’t up and running yet. So, we’ll need waitstaff.”
“And as far as decor goes?”
He waves me off. “The hotel designer will be in here the minute the work is done.”
“And how long do you think the work will take? I don’t want to start ordering things and have no place to store them until the big day.”
“I will talk with the staff today and I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”
The demands go on and on, and so do my notes. I’ve already filled three pages with all of his ridiculous wants, needs, and demands. It gets to the point where I find myself doodling along the margins instead of listening to what he’s going on about.
His phone begins ringing in the middle of his speech and he pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the screen. He holds up his finger at me and then turns and walks out the door, answering it on his way.
I’m alone and finally feel like I can breathe. I walk back over to the bar and look over my notes. I want to roll my eyes. I understand wanting everything to match, but white china with gold trim? What if I can’t find that exact pattern to rent? Will gold accents work? How anal is he going to be about all of this? He has to realize that this is a small town, and our resources are limited, right?
I start flipping through my books and when I come across something that might work, I write it down so it’s easier to find later. I wish he would just look at the books and see what we can get rather than telling me exactly what he wants. I guess when you live in New York City everything is readily available.
Maybe it’s just something I need to mention. He may not grasp the difference between New York and Loveville when it comes to getting things exactly how and when you want them. I may have to special order this china and that could take months. Will a similar style do?
I let out a long breath, already feeling tired and stressed out. I was hoping and praying that he wouldn’t be the micromanaging type, but, so far, that’s exactly what he’s proving himself to be. My job runs much smoother when I get to make all the calls. Of course, I always take my clients’ wishes into consideration, but being dead set on one or more things is never good and almost always ends in disappointment.
I check over my lists of flower shops and wonder if there is enough time to get everything in with such short notice. That doesn’t just go for flowers though. I guess I’ll just have to use my best judgement and if I can’t find the exact thing he wants, I’ll just have to get whatever is close. Surely, he won’t notice that much, right? Plus, he probably won’t even see it until the day of the party and then I’ll just hope that everyone keeps him too occupied to notice the small changes in detail.
I feel that the meeting is about to end since he didn’t want to look over the books and pick things out, so I begin loading everything into my bag. A couple of painters come in and get to work on spraying the walls with a cream-colored paint and the fumes fill the large room rather quickly. I pull my bag and purse back up onto my shoulder and turn for the door but stop when I see him walk back inside.
Mr. Billings slips the phone into his pocket and walks over to the bar where I’m standing. “Sorry about that. That was my assistant, some things came up that needed my attention. Now, where were we?”
I shrug. “I’ve written down notes regarding the music, menu, tables, and place settings. Is there anything else you want to add to that?”
He thinks it over for a moment. “No, I guess that should cover it.”
“And you’re sure that you don’t want to look over my books?”
“I know what I want. There’s no need.”
“You do realize that this isn’t New York, right? Not everything we want is always readily available.”
His brows draw together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I may not be able to find white china with gold trim. I will try my best, but it might not be possible. What would you like me to do in those situations?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “Call me. We’ll have to work through this together.”
I press my lips together and take the card, slipping it into my purse. “I will call you with any update.” I turn to leave, but he stops me.
“Uh, Destiny?”
“Yes?” I ask, turning to face him.
“Do you have a card? In case there are any changes I need to make you aware of?”
