“Yes.”
“But we’re in the middle of...”He gestures helplessly at the organized pandemonium around us.“It’s December.We’re running three festivals simultaneously?—”
“Today,” I repeat calmly.
He swallows hard, then points to a set of stairs at the back.“Second floor.First office on the left.”I nod my thanks and navigate through the chaos, dodging a woman balancing a tower of centerpieces and sidestepping a man hunched over blueprints spread across the floor.
The second floor is quieter but no less busy.Through glass walls, I can see teams working, their focus intense despite the holiday decorations covering every available surface.A woman intercepts me before I reach Tessa’s office.She’s mid-twenties, polished in cream and black, dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.An iPad is tucked under one arm, and she studies me with the kind of sharp assessment that reminds me of Olivia.
“Mr.Castellano?”Her voice is professional but carries an edge of curiosity.“I’m Regina Denver, Ms.Maddox’s assistant.She’s expecting you.”
“Thank you.”
Regina opens the door to Tessa’s office, and I step inside.The space is not the most organized one I’ve seen, but it probably makes sense to its residents.Color-coded folders line one wall.A massive planning board takes up another, covered in sticky notes, photographs, and what appears to be an entire timeline mapped out in different colored markers.String lights frame the window, and a small Christmas tree sits on a filing cabinet, its ornaments all miniature planners and tiny staplers.
Tessa Maddox herself is on the phone, pacing behind her desk with the kind of kinetic energy that suggests she hasn’t sat still in days.She’s petite but commands the space, her short layered bob swinging as she turns.When she sees me, her hazel-gold eyes brighten immediately.
“I’ll call you back,” she says into the phone, not waiting for a response before ending the call.She rounds her desk with quick, purposeful strides, hand extended.“Mr.Castellano.What a pleasure.”
Her handshake is firm, confident.Up close, I can see the traces of exhaustion under her perfectly applied makeup, the slight edge of stress in her smile.But her enthusiasm is genuine, crackling in the air around her like static electricity.
“Ms.Maddox.”I return her grip.“Thank you for making time.”
“Are you kidding?”She gestures for me to sit, settling into her own chair with the fluid grace of someone who’s spent years perfecting efficiency of movement.“A collaboration with Apex Event Group?”She leans forward, eyes sparkling with something between excitement and calculation.“I don’t normally take new clients during Christmas season.We’re in charge of all the festivals around here during Christmas season.But when one of the most prestigious event companies in Manhattan reaches out?I’d be insane to pass it up.”
I allow myself a small smile.Hiring Apex Events, the event company I usually use back in the city, to coordinate with a local company was the right move.“I appreciate your flexibility.”
“So.”Tessa pulls out a leather-bound planner, flipping it open with practiced ease.“Let’s talk timeline.You’re looking at December 22nd?”
“Three days before Christmas,” I confirm.“I understand that’s aggressive.”
“Aggressive?”Her smile sharpens, taking on an almost predatory edge.“Mr.Castellano, aggressive is my specialty.”She taps her pen against the planner.“I’ve received all the information your assistant sent over.The vendor list, the specifications, the logistics.”Her gaze meets mine, steady and assured.“Everything you’ve requested is manageable.The deliveries will come directly to my warehouse, and my team will handle the setup.”
She slides a contract across the desk.It’s thorough.I scan the terms quickly, noting the confidentiality clauses, the payment schedule, the contingency plans.Professional.Detailed.Exactly what I need.
“The timing is tight,” I say, meeting her gaze.“Any delays would be unacceptable.”
Tessa’s smile doesn’t waver.If anything, it becomes more lethal.“I understand completely.You won’t be disappointed.”
“Good.”I pull out my pen, the expensive weight of it familiar in my hand.“I hate disappointment.”
Her laugh is bright, genuine.“So do I, Mr.Castellano.So do I.”
I sign the contract with quick, decisive strokes.She countersigns immediately, then makes a copy for my records with the efficiency of someone who’s done this a thousand times.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” she says as she hands me the folder.
I don’t confirm or deny.Just tuck the folder under my arm and stand.“I’ll be in touch if anything changes.”
“We’ll make it perfect.”She walks me to the door, her energy never flagging.“Trust me.”
I do.I made sure to look into Tessa Maddox’s track record before approaching her.She’s good at what she does and discreet when required.And I need discreet.
Regina is waiting outside the office, already on her phone coordinating something.She gives me a brief nod as I pass, professional and unobtrusive.Downstairs, the chaos has somehow intensified.Someone’s arguing about whether “forest green” and “hunter green” are the same color.Another person is on the phone, their voice rising in pitch as they insist that yes, they absolutely need two hundred poinsettias by Monday.
I slip out into the snow, which has picked up slightly.Chunky flakes drift down from a gray sky, catching in my hair and on my shoulders.Main Street is busier now.Families bundling up for the Holly and Ivy Festival that starts tomorrow, vendors setting up their stalls for the Christmas Market.
As I head back toward the Hartley house, I find myself humming along to “Jingle Bell Rock,” the song the carolers were belting out earlier.The tune’s annoyingly catchy, and I catch myself smiling despite the cold.
