“I met him briefly at the party.” Millie smiled. “Seems like a nice guy. And his girls are adorable. They were telling me about the swear box they made because their dad curses so much, and how they’re saving for a cat.”
“He does swear too much around them,” I said, “but he’s a really good dad.”
“Well, good for you. I think it’s—” Suddenly my sister stopped talking and burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Oh my God, you don’t see it?” She shook her head, her eyes tearing up. “You have a crush on Dad, Winnie!”
My spine snapped straight. “I do not!”
“Yes, you do—ex-military, divorced single dad with daughters, swears too much.” She leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet. “It’s totally Dad. And you’re Frannie, complete with gigantic age gap! Just don’t let his daughters find you guys making out in the closet like we caught them.”
“This is not that situation at all,” I argued. “Dad and Frannie were in love. They had a real relationship that they tried to hide. Dex and I are just friends.”
One of Millie’s eyebrows peaked as she picked up her coffee. “Sounds like it. My friends throw me down and rip my clothes all the time. And then offer to sew them.”
Rolling my eyes, I stood up. “Just forget it. I told you it wasn’t a big deal. I don’t even know if it will happen again.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Ellie asked.
I shrugged. “Maybe it was just one of those things we had to get out of our systems, you know?”
“Uh huh.” Millie smiled knowingly. “And does it feel like that this morning? Is he out of your system?”
Of course he wasn’t.
I hadn’t been able to think about anything else since I left his place last night—I’d barely even slept.
My face grew hot.
“That’s what I thought.” My sister’s grin was smug. “Good luck keeping this thing casual.”
“I don’t need luck,” I said, hugging my notebook to my chest. “Because I am the boss of my feelings.”
“Of course you are.” She started singing the song I’d been humming before, except that she could actually sing. “L is for the way you look at me . . .”
“Come on, Ell,” I said. “Let’s go take a look at the patio.”
“Okay. Bye, Millie.” Ellie got up and followed me to the door.
We heard my sister crooning all the way down the hall.
Later that afternoon, there was a lull at the front desk, and I took a minute to check my email. Most of it was junk, but I also had a message from a woman named Sandra Elson, who’d interviewed me last spring for a position in a Manhattan hotel. I hadn’t gotten the job, which turned out to be just as well, but afterward, she’d sent me a nice note saying that while I’d been a very strong candidate, the position had been filled internally.
Her return email address indicated she was now working for a new hotel, and the subject line said, Following Up — New Opportunity.
Curious, I opened it.
Dear Winifred,
Hello! I hope you are well. I wanted to reach out to you about a job opportunity at The Alexander, a boutique hotel in a former summer home in Newport, Rhode Island. I recently took a job here as manager, and I’m looking for an event planner to coordinate large gatherings, such as corporate retreats and wedding receptions, but also smaller events for our guests.
The Alexander is an elegant inn, just twenty-two rooms, in a nineteenth century mansion built by a silver heiress and her literary novelist husband. They threw famous parties here in the twenties and thirties—Harry Houdini performed at one!—and the home has been featured in a few Hollywood films. The grounds boast a gorgeous rose garden and spectacular ocean views.
There are several spaces ideal for weddings and receptions, including a luxurious Gilded Age ballroom, terraces overlooking the gardens, and interior rooms for more intimate occasions. When I first saw the possibilities, I immediately thought of you. As you know, your portfolio and personal interview made quite an impression on me.
If you’re interested in talking about the job, please do give me a call. I think you’d enjoy the atmosphere and creative freedom, and I will make it worth your while.
Sincerely,
Sandra Elson
Below her email signature was a telephone number as well as a website for The Alexander. I immediately clicked on the link, eager to see what she’d described.