“I’m not fidgeting,” Evelyn protested, immediately stilling her hands, which had been smoothing down her dress for the third time in as many minutes.
“You’re fidgeting,” Maggie confirmed, pressing a glass into her hand. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
Evelyn took a sip, more to have something to do than because she wanted it. The champagne was good—Alyssa had insisted on upgrading from the standard corporate swill—and it did help settle the nervous flutter in her stomach.
“Where is Alyssa?” Maggie asked, scanning the room.
“Probably micromanaging the catering staff,” Evelyn said. “She’s been in full event coordinator mode since we arrived.”
“She pulled this off in less than two weeks,” Maggie said admiringly. “That woman is a force of nature.”
Evelyn couldn’t argue with that.
The first employees started trickling in, and Evelyn felt her shoulders tense. This was it. The moment she’d find out if all their frantic planning had been worth it. It was where she’d find out if she stacked up against her dad and his impeccable party-planning reputation.
Tom from graphic design was one of the first through the door, his eyes widening as he took in the space. “Holy shit,” he said, then immediately looked mortified. “Sorry, I mean—this is incredible, Ms Crawford.”
“Evelyn,” she corrected automatically. “And thank you. Though I can’t take credit. This was mostly Alyssa’s vision.”
“The dog lady?” Tom grinned. “She’s brilliant.”
More people arrived, and Evelyn found herself swept into a series of conversations that all blurred together. Everyone seemed genuinely excited, which was both gratifying and slightly overwhelming. She smiled, nodded, made small talk about the decorations and the menu and wasn’t the venue just wonderful?
It was exhausting.
Her mother had been good at this—moving through a crowd, making everyone feel seen and valued. Roslyn Crawford could work a room like nobody’s business, finding the exact right thing to say to put people at ease.
Evelyn had never quite mastered that skill. And after her mother died, she’d stopped trying.
“You’re doing the thing,” a familiar voice said behind her.
Evelyn turned to find Alyssa, looking unfairly gorgeous in a deep green dress that brought out the warmth in her eyes. Bug was at her side, sporting a festive bow tie that matched Alyssa’s outfit.
“What thing?” Evelyn asked.
“The thing where you smile and nod but you’re not actually present,” Alyssa said. “Your eyes glaze over a bit. It’s very subtle, but I’ve gotten good at reading you.”
Evelyn felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m fine.”
“You’re overwhelmed,” Alyssa corrected gently. “Which is completely understandable. This is a lot.”
“I used to be better at this,” Evelyn admitted. “Before—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.
Alyssa’s expression softened. “Your mum would be proud of you, you know. This party, what you’re building here—it’s exactly the kind of thing she would have loved.”
Evelyn swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m not sure about that.”
“I am,” Alyssa said firmly. “Now come on. Let’s go check on the Festive Fusion Tacos. I need to know if they’re living up to the hype.”
The catering station was mobbed. Evelyn watched in amazement as her normally reserved accounting department descended on the taco bar like a pack of very polite locusts.
“I told you they’d be a hit,” Alyssa said smugly.
“You were right,” Evelyn conceded. “About a lot of things, actually.”
“I’m going to need that in writing,” Alyssa teased.
