I kept my professional persona firmly in place. I couldn’t afford to break down or spiral since there was a wedding depending on me. I would process all the words, all the hurt, later when there was time. No doubt, I would be kept wide awake by the process as I had many many nights when I previously worked for James.
I checked my all important list and adjusted the timing by five minutes. Called out instructions in a calm, even tone.
And then I felt it.
Carly’s attention.
She hadn’t left with James and the multitude of cameras. She stood where she was, hands folded neatly, watching the kitchen as if she were seeing it for the first time.
“You run this very well,” she commented.
I nodded without looking up. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” she continued. “You have authority without noise. That is rare.”
I stirred the sauce slowly, letting it thicken. I had the feeling compliments from Carly Hale were never uncomplicated.
Molly cleared her throat. “Jane, do you want me to start plating the appetizers?”
“Yes,” I said. “But wait until the trays warm. Put them into the oven for two minutes.”
Molly nodded and moved away.
Carly watched her go.
“You have loyalty,” Carly said. “That takes time to build.”
I finally looked up. “We are busy.”
She smiled faintly. “So am I.”
There was something deliberate in the way she said it. A pause that suggested she was choosing her next words carefully.
“Would you mind stepping into the little library room for a moment?” Carly asked. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”
Every instinct I had said no. Not now. Not today. Not when there were timelines and temperatures and people counting on me.
But Carly didn’t sound like someone who would accept a refusal gracefully.
I glanced at Erin. “I will be right back.”
Erin nodded. “We will stick to the schedule and lists you have.”
I followed Carly into the small sitting room just off the kitchen. The door remained open. She didn’t close it behind us, which felt intentional. This was not meant to feel secretive.
She took a seat. I remained standing to remind her that I didn’t really have time to talk.
“You can sit,” she offered.
“I’m fine,” I said.
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
For a moment, she simply studied me. Not rudely, but like someone assessing a situation she believed she understood.
“I wanted to speak to you without an audience,” she said finally. “James makes everything louder than it needs to be.”
“He does,” I replied with reservation, wondering what she was getting at.
