“Tell you what. Let’s put Brody to a test.” Sydney narrows her eyes and I know that look.
“What kind of test?”
Sydney snaps her fingers. “What’s that saying your dad says about being ten minutes late?”
“If you’re ten minutes early, you’re ten minutes late,” I recite. “And your point?”
“Get to Tawney’s thirty minutes before your date and wait for him. Then see what happens.”
“Syd, I’ll look like a desperate puppy.”
“Then enter through the kitchen and wait for him in there.”
“And what’s it going to prove? That he’s punctual?”
“That he’s taking this date seriously even though it’s only at Tawney’s. And I think he asked you to meet him there because he probably sensed that you didn’t want to go out with him in the first place.”
“So, he shows up on time. Then what?” I ask.
“Then have your date. Get to know him. Apparently, he’s a good guy. Chivalry at its finest by walking you home, changing out your battery, and wanting to repay you for the cocoa he spilled.”
“I spilled it,” I correct her.
“Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.” She waves her hand in the air. “He scared you, which made you drop it.”
“And that’s just it, Syd. I’m scared.”
“Which is natural after what that shitbag, crazy, waste of space ex-boyfriend did to you.”
I want to laugh as I glance her way while she clears the table. Because she’s right. Todd is a shitbag and crazy. “And why do you have a good feeling about Brody? For all we know, he’s some guy who’s trying to get his jollies or worse, he could be just like that shitbag.”
“He’s a good guy.”
My eyes narrow. “You think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
Chapter Twelve
Delilah
“Kitty?” I gasp as I enter the office. Then I clear my throat while placing the box of mock-ups on the long table next to a couple of designs she must be reviewing. “I’m sorry. I mean, Mrs. Cole.”
Turns out, the woman I met several weeks ago in the bathroom is Catherine Cole.
Catherine Cole is Kitty.
I should have figured it out. Her expensive suit, the information she knew about Liz going on maternity leave, and all the trigger words.
Was the bathroom conversation my interview? I spoke to her like she was another employee, not realizing Kitty is the chief operating officer at CJJ Public Relations.
“Please call me Catherine. Kitty is a nickname a friend of mine gave me a while back,” she says as she stretches out her hand to shake mine. “Sorry I misled you in the bathroom a few weeks ago. You looked so tense I didn’t want to add to your bundle of nerves.”
“Is that why I never had my last interview with you?”
“Yes. I was so impressed with how passionate you were. I looked up your work and told Peter we need people like you on our team.”
“I don’t know what to say, except . . . thank you.”
A photo resting on the corner of the desk catches my eye. It’s Catherine with a baby girl in her lap and a man embracing them. That must be her daughter and Jackson. My goodness, he’s so handsome.
Catherine motions to the box. “Looks like you have hit the ground running. Show me what you have done so far,” she says with a smile.
“The account is Evergreen Escapes, a glamping campground resort not too far away from Napa Valley.” I pull out the boards and lay them on the long table. “The grounds are absolutely beautiful, with lush gardens, lots of trees, and the amenities are luxurious. I added a catchy slogan here”—I point to one of the boards—“with the plush accommodations, attention to detail with different themed rooms, and the spacing of each sleeping space giving the guests the privacy they need.”
“I think you just gave me the presentation pitch, Delilah.” Catherine nods as she picks up each draft. “I am in awe of the research you have done. Very impressive work.”
“Thank you,” I say bashfully.
Since I am still building my personal list of contacts, I had to use the internet to research the clients and owners, Kevin and Beverly Carson. Their daughter, Kayla, is the resort director. The happy couple bought the land, built the campground from scratch, and added to it over the years to what it is today.
“Although this isn’t my idea of camping, it’s a great concept. It would be nice to visit the grounds.” I pick up one board showing an intimate bedroom with a fur carpet inside a large tent.
“I think that’s a great idea. Why don’t you book a weekend there? Survey the grounds and get a feel for it.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.”
“This project is a small account for us. Their marketing strategy just needs a little revamping.”
“Rumor has it, the owners want to retire.”
“Well, there are some things happening behind the scenes. Nothing set in stone yet and nothing I can disclose right now.” Catherine sits in her chair and opens her calendar. “They’re scheduled for a formal presentation six weeks from today”—she looks up at me— “that’s plenty of time to prepare.”
“Absolutely.”
“So, let’s look at what else we can do to hit the ball out of the park.”
Where has the week gone? I have buried my head in this project and it’s only one account. I can’t imagine what it will be like when the workload piles on with more than one assignment.
“You’re still here?” Peter Grisham peeks his head in the war room, a place we can spread out and get creative, since my office is stifling my creative juices.
The large room has CJJ’s award-winning designs hung on the wall. I recognize them all too well from their ads and commercials, and I hope mine will be up there someday. Also etched in the wall are a few inspirational quotes.
My favorite quote:
The only easy day was yesterday.
“Hi, Mr. Grisham.” I look at my cell, checking the time, and realize it’s been in silent mode. I see missed calls from Sydney and a text from Drake asking for me to call him.
It’s been months since I have talked to my brother. I’ve been avoiding his calls and ignoring his text messages. The last time we spoke was at the hospital after Dylan’s shooting when he gave me the big-brother-rub-it-in lecture, making me feel weak and stupid for staying with Todd.
“How many times do I have to tell you, please call me Peter,” he says, entering the room. “What are you doing here so late?”
“Just finishing up a few more details,” I reply as I slip on the heels I removed to give my feet some reprieve.
“We don’t want you to burn out too quickly.” He studies the designs laid on the table.
“Is there anything I can help you with, Peter?”
He picks up an 11x17 board and angles his head then raises it showing me. “You have done an amazing job here, Delilah. I hate to admit it, but these designs are so much better than what Liz came up with.”