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“Oh, for sure,” Bianca remarked. “But the years with your Mom will be worth it.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” She glanced over her shoulder, then kneeled and began clipping the dogs back into their leads.
“For not thinking I’m crazy.”
“Chick, if you’re crazy then I’m clinically insane. Most people would have taken the rich guys deal immediately; you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” Taking the leads back, I herded my group back out of the gate and toward the main path. They bundled over one another and once we reached the path, I used a treat technique Bianca had taught me to get them in line and calmed down.
Bianca was right. People like Sawyer and Kane were rich enough to find another project to work on, another way to do good in the world.
I was certain of it.
21
CALLIE
The most exciting thing about July finally rolling around was the celebration of Sawyer’s birthday.
To other staff, it was the one time a year that the tyrannical boss was nice, but Sawyer liked to use his birthday as an excuse to not only thank the staff for their hard work but also to rustle up some donations. Multiple businesses and people from the rich walk of life loved to be seen wishing Sawyer a happy birthday. So he used that against them and would often ask for donations toward the charity voted on by staff members. Last year, it was a breast cancer charity, and the year before that was a homeless charity.
The jury was still out on what it would be this year, but the current voting had a children’s charity in the lead, and its popularity was growing.
This was the only time of year when event planning would overtake my normal duties, but this year, I was leading the charge rather than being someone on the outskirts just helping. The perks of being Sawyer’s personal assistant now.
“I’m not sure a finger food buffet is really appropriate,” I mused, staring down at the files in front of me. Several assistants from other departments sat at the table with me, bringing ideas from their staff.
“Why not?” Hillary from accounting stared at me over her square spectacles. “It’s going to be for a children’s charity, right? So finger food is perfect.”
“The charity hasn’t been chosen yet, Hillary,” Amy from Human Resources said. “So we can’t base the meal around the charity.”
“The children’s charity is the clear winner,” Hillary snapped back.
“You’re only saying that because your wife works for them,” Adam from Marketing retorted. “You can’t try and fix this.”
“I’m not fixing anything,” Hillary responded. “The votes are speaking for themselves and my wife has nothing to do with it!”
“Your wife has everything to do with it,” Amy replied sharply. “I haven’t forgotten last year when she got so drunk she threw up over the photocopier!”
As the argument broke out between them, I focused on the details listed below. The thought of the buffet was oddly making my stomach churn. In fact, I’d been unwell for the past week and wondered if I had picked up something at the restaurant Bianca and I had gone to for dinner. The seafood there had looked a little gray.
The argument rose in volume, so I lifted my head and pushed some damp hair away from my forehead. With the nausea and the hot flush sweeping down my back, I was not in the mood for an argument.
“If you must know, Sawyer personally picked the charities this year, so that has nothing to do with Hillary,” I said.
Hillary’s face turned smug.
“However, I agree that basing the meal around the charity is pointless until we have a winner. So I propose that we aim for a buffet but keep the food on the back burner until we have a winner. How does that sound?”
The heads around the table bobble like figures on a car dashboard, and then I stand and tuck the papers under my arm. “Excellent. I will leave you all to finalize the guest list while I track down a caterer that can provide themed food at short notice.”
I hurried from the room, puffing out my cheeks to try and cool myself down. The last thing I needed was all this talk of food among such high tensions. Heading back to my desk, I plucked at my shirt and groaned. This was the second shirt I had sweated through and it was only the early afternoon. At this time of year, I always brought an extra with how the July heat baked the desks near the windows, but this was different.
Whatever it was, I hope it passed quickly.
On my way to my desk, I dialed up the number of the caterer we had used last year. They were kind and flexible so having them again felt like a good choice. They didn’t answer when I called so I left my details on the answering machine. The next call was my contact within the press to let them know the date and time of the party. Sawyer’s birthday was always in the news but only a few trusted reporters were allowed inside.
