She spreads out her materials and slides several pieces of paper toward me. As I reach for them, our hands nearly collide. We both pull back like we touched a hot burner on the stove.
Manning the helm, I say, “You’ve taken this task seriously. Let’s start with the budget.”
She slides over a spreadsheet. “Budget breakdown. Hall rental, catering, decorations, and entertainment.” She points to a circled number at the top to indicate how much money we have to work with.
I study it and when I look up, the crease between her eyebrows deepens. Is she waiting for my approval or preparing to argue?
“What do you think?” she asks.
“This is thorough.”
“I try to be. You should see my Pinterest boards. I have one for?—”
“Let’s get to the point.” Or else the small talk might turn into something more and I can’t afford that.
“I have some ideas for the theme and atmosphere.” Fingers wide, she moves them through the air in a jazzy half circle. “The aesthetic.”
Without hesitating, I blurt, “Let’s keep it simple.”
She huffs. “I haven’t even told you my ideas yet!”
“I know how this goes. You’re going to suggest something extravagant?—”
“Just hear me out. Winter wonderland. Ice sculptures, twinkling lights, signature beverages—” This time she spreads her hands like a magician performing a trick.
“See?”
“What’s wrong with winter wonderland?”
“The event isn’t until the spring. Ice sculptures are expensive and quickly turn into costly puddles at the right temperature. Twinkling lights are a fire hazard. And we’re not providing an open bar.”
She crosses her arms. “But the notion of ice, given that it’s a Fireman’s Ball and you’re hot—” She claps her hand over her mouth.
My eyebrow rises … along with some color to the tips of my ears. I should ignore her comment. Pretend it didn’t happen.
“I mean, the contrast. Like hot and cold. Fire and ice.” Her throat bobs on a thick swallow. “Like you guys handle hot things. I didn’t mean that?—”
I grunt, eager to dismiss the notion and what it could mean. “Yeah, I get it. Plus, the Fire & Ice Fest is coming soon and there will be ice skating and a bonfire, so that would be redundant.” I snarl, intending to keep the distance between us.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Okay, Admiral Grouch. What do you suggest?”
“As I said, we keep it simple. There doesn’t need to be a theme. Chairs and tables. Food and music. Done.”
“I can see you’ve really put some thought into this. Are we serving plain crackers and water?” Sarcasm accompanies each word.
I nod because, despite her intention, she’s on to something. “Cheese and crackers.”
She leans forward with disbelief. “Oh, how generous.”
“Chips and dip, too.”
She shakes her head. “This is the Fireman’s Ball. Guests expect something special.”
“You’ve been spending too much time on Pinterest.”
“People want to support the fire department and have a decent meal.”
“What about grinders—we could get a bulk discount. Fifty percent off fifty footlongs.”
