“Mine too.”
“Exactly. Yours too,” I mumble. I chew quickly and swallow, my stomach tightening at the thought of spending all that money on a new wardrobe. “I mean, it’s not going to be Chanel or anything. I need to be sensible. But everything will fit well.”
“Who needs Chanel?” Hadley asks, wrinkling up her nose. “Nobody with any common sense.”
“True that,” I say, even though deep down, I’d love to have enough cash to swing a completely Chanel wardrobe. “Only idiots spend that kind of money on clothes. Even if I were rich, I wouldn’t waste cash like that.”
“Me neither,” she says firmly. Then she screws up her face. “Well, if I werereallyrich. Like if I had enough money that even my great-grandkids would never have to worry, then I might.”
“Yes, definitely in that case, because you’d have enough to make significant charitable donations.”
“Exactly.”
We stare at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing at ourselves. When we’re done, Hadley says, “Well, good thing we sorted that out. You know, so we’ll have a plan when we become wildly rich.”
Swiping my fingertips across my forehead, I say, “Phew.”
Hadley’s eyes light up. “Oh, I just remembered seeing an ad for Apple Blossoms. It’s thirty percent off everything this week.”
“Perfect.”
“Just try not to get stuck in a dress.” That happened to her once, and she had to ask Heath to rescue her. At the time, it was completely humiliating for her, having not seen him in over a decade. But it all turned out fine, because they wound up falling in love and now they’re living happily ever after.
“I don’t know. It worked out pretty well for you, but with my luck, that awful Theo Rojas would be the one standing outside the dressing room door.” It’s a completely ridiculous thought. No way someone like him will be shopping at Apple Blossoms Women’s Wear. He’s probably never set foot in a store that doesn’t bear the name of a designer label over the door. “I need to put him out of my mind, don’t I?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
Easier said than done.
* * *
The next two days are so busy, I barely have time to think about a certain president of a certain rum company about to go under (or so I hope in my darkest moments). I’ve been run off my feet preparing for the arrival of the contestants/film crew. We’re holding a big mixer on Friday evening for them, so on top of room assignments, including dozens of very specific and often opposing requests, I also have to ensure the bars used for the competitions are fully stocked with certain unusual items, make sure that there will be sufficient cold storage for all the drink mixes, exotic fruits, and premium alcohols (to be supplied by Rojas Rum, of course), and I have to arrange for secured storage for all the equipment the film crews will bring. Oh, and there’s that whole deserted island thing too. Turns out the Island of Eden is booked the week we’ll need it, but only for two of the nights, so I had to go to Harrison to ask for permission to offer the guests an alternative date at our cost ($25,000/night). The good thing is, we’ll recoup it by charging the production company for an entire week. The bad thing is, if the guests say no, I’m totally screwed.
I haven’t run into Theo Rojas even once, which is sort of a shame, because my shopping trip on Monday night was a raving success. I brought home two new suits (each with a pair of slacks and a skirt), four button-up shirts, a wrap-around dress, and a silk shirtdress with cap sleeves in black that was a bit of a splurge but is so flattering, I couldn’t leave it behind. All other items were very sensibly on sale, thank you very much. I even scored two pairs of shoes, including nude sandals and a pair of glossy black slingbacks.
Today I’m in dove-grey dress pants with a sunset pink, ramie, short-sleeved blouse with a stand-up collar. The blouse has beautiful details, including trocas shell buttons that do not say cheap.
Anyway, there are so many moving parts, and so many people enlisted to keep those parts moving, that my walk from the parking lot to my desk in the mornings is fraught with interruptions. As soon as the staff see me coming, they pepper me with questions, and, more often than not, excuses as to why whatever it is they’re supposed to do cannot be done.
My mind has been spinning so fast, I can’t seem to shut it off at bedtime, so I wind up spending the entire night in this sort of limbo between being awake and asleep, having stress-dreams about every little thing that could possibly go wrong. When the alarm goes off, I bolt out of bed, already tense and panicky.
It took me ninety minutes to get to my desk this morning. When I open my laptop, I have forty-six emails waiting for me, even though I checked before bed last night (huge mistake). Sighing, I scan them, looking for anything urgent.
My eyes land on one that makes my heart pound:
Email from Theo Rojas
To: Nora Cooper, Harrison Banks, Libby Banks, Rosy Brown
CC: Carolina Armas, Markos Rojas, Vincent St. Pierre
Subject: Request for Meeting Today
Dear Ms. Cooper,
With the arrival of the contestants and film crew quickly approaching, Carolina Armas and I would like to meet with you and the resort’s administration. Our goal is to mitigate the risk of inappropriate interactions between participants/crew/hotel staff.
We’d also like to lay out expectations around conduct so as to prevent any potential issues before they happen.
