What else had he missed with all his assumptions?
“Hello?” Grace walked in, her back straight and her chin lifted, as if daring him to take his best shot. Figuratively, of course.
“Hi.” He waved her closer to the table he’d chosen. When the rest of the committee arrived for the kick-off meeting, he and Grace would be in the center, hopefully as a united front. “They brought a water pitcher and told me to ask for whatever else we’d like.”
“Great.” Her tight, polite smile didn’t reach her eyes and her hands were locked around a notebook. “Thanks.”
“Do you want anything stronger?”
“Not until you give me a reason.” A genuine smile flitted across her face and the tension gripping his shoulders eased.
“None of our initiatives are meant to undermine anyone.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Have a seat, please?” He poured her a glass of water.
She sat, ignoring the water glass, in favor of smoothing her hands over the notebook. He remembered the way her hand curled around his as they walked between classes and how she used to glide a hand over his shoulder while he studied. It wasn’t easy to shove those memories aside, but this wasn’t the right time for reminiscing.
“The local vendors are the backbone of this town, Calvin,” Grace said, her voice steady despite the way her fingers fidgeted with her pen. “I’ve looked over the email you sent. If we bring in corporate food trucks from the city, we’re essentially siphoning money out of Brookwell. That isn’t what this festival is for.”
Calvin had been forced to relax his normal wardrobe to blend better with the beach town vibe. He’d left the blazer in the closet and opted for a classic Irish cable knit sweater in a deep teal, though he stuck with khaki slacks rather than denim. He’d dressed as a casual professional, but his attention was fixed on the stray red curl that had escaped her clip.
Ten years ago, he would’ve had the honor of tucking that curl behind her ear, or simply winding it around his finger.
“Calvin?”
Hearing her say his name snapped him out of his inappropriate reverie. “Where to start,” he murmured. “At the top, I guess. I’m not trying to replace the locals, Grace. I’m trying to scale the event. Bring in more money for everyone. Levi brings national press to every venture. Sometimes even global interest.”
“I understand that.”
Oh, how he wished that were true. He’d nearly botched his first event with the business mogul because he was sure he’d understood the scope of influence. “National press requires a certain level of infrastructure,” he continued. “If the lines for a taco are forty minutes long because we only have one local stand, the reviews will be scathing and the festival credibility goes down.”
“Then we help the local stand hire more staff,” she countered. “We invest in our people. We don’t just invite in a competitor because it’s easier for your spreadsheet.”
“This is about more than the spreadsheet, it’s about highlighting what makes this town amazing.”
She stared at him. “Well, we agree on that.”
That was the only point of agreement for the next hour as she opened her notebook and gave him a mountain of data and meticulous notes he hadn’t expected. As the chairperson of the outreach committee, she’d done her homework.
He had no valid reason to be surprised, and yet he was.
Essentially, they bickered for an hour. Her deep-rooted community knowledge dueling against his data and projections. They weren’t making much progress. She refused to acknowledge any of his better ideas or options to compromise. So much for that united front.
By the time the rest of the committee arrived, the air in the meeting room felt thinner, practically humming with electricity. He was so attracted to the woman she’d become that he’d nearly walked back Levi’s expansion plans.
“Excuse me.” He left her at the table, winding his way through the restaurant and outside for a breath of air that wasn’t laced with the scent of Grace.
When he returned, she was standing close to Reed Davis, owner of the Pelican Pub and president of the Brookwell Music Festival planning committee. Whatever Reed said had her giggling. Cal’s vision hazed in a cloud of jealousy. Once upon a time, that laugh was reserved for his jokes.
And he was being a total ass. Of course, she had friends and colleagues. Relationships that were only new to him. Because he hadn’t tried to check on her after that final phone call.
Frustrated by his lack of control and focus, he took his seat and shut out all distractions while he reorganized his notes. No matter what happened in this meeting, he couldn’t risk alienating anyone by contradicting Grace directly.
The kick-off meeting proceeded with what he assumed was typical ease. The only new face this year, Cal stood and explained his role when he was introduced, being as succinct and non-threatening as possible. All around the room, folks seemed to accept his presence as Levi’s representative.
Finished for the moment, he sat down, risking a glance at Grace. She didn’t smile, but she wasn’t glaring either. Points to him for doingsomethingright today.
When it was Grace’s turn to present her ideas for outreach, she started by reviewing the attendance and sales numbers from last year. Then she shocked him speechless.
“Calvin and I brainstormed some ideas earlier. With Levi Garrison as a new corporate sponsor this year, we are likely to see a surge in attendance. To that end and to keep the event beneficial for everyone, I’d like to propose a scaled fee for vendors. Lower entry points for our local businesses as a starting point.”
