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I could call meetings and invite her via the calendar invite function, which she always ignores, so she doesn’t show up and looks unprofessional.
And that gets me thinking about more ways to make her look unprofessional.
When she took over as the marketing manager, Nana asked her to put together one marketing event each quarter—something that used to fall under my responsibilities. I know enough of the vendors that I can get them to donate bigger and better things to my charity event in July so she’s left looking unprepared for the third quarter event.
None of these ideas attack her the way she attacked Spencer and me, but they should be enough to show Nana that Amelia is the wrong choice.
As I pull into the space behind my bungalow, I draw in a deep breath. I can’t push her out of my mind since I live and work with her, but I can try to focus on something else for a while…like, for example, work.
I carry my suitcase inside before I head over to the office. It’s quiet as I walk in and turn my computer on, and it’s only when I log into my email that I see why it’s so quiet in the office.
There’s a major meeting happening over in the production facility with our bottle and cork suppliers, and I’m missing it.
Because it was moved.
It was supposed to be tomorrow.
It’s today.
When I check the calendar to see who made the edit…yep. “Amelia,” I hiss.
I haul ass over toward the production facility, but I’m too late. Two trucks are pulling away from the parking lot, and the others are all moving in opposite directions as the facility comes into my view in the distance.
Nana is heading toward the estate, my dad is heading back toward his office, and Amelia is heading in my direction, arm-in-arm with Drew.
A smile tips her lips once she spots me. “You missed an important meeting. Guess you should’ve been here rather than gallivanting around California with Spencer.”
“You changed it,” I say, not trying to keep the accusation out of my tone.
“Mr. Jackson called asking if it could be rescheduled, and I saw that we had room to handle it today.” She offers a fake smile.
“You did it to make sure I would look like I was ducking out on my responsibilities.” I point a finger at her.
“Don’t point at me,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “If you feel that way, it’s probably your guilty conscience. Hope you had a great birthday with my ex.” With those words, she yanks on Drew’s arm and pulls him away.
“You won’t get away with this,” I call after her.
“I already did,” she yells without turning around.
I hold in a frustrated scream. I will not let her see me sweat.
I’m busy calling vendors for Corks for a Cause, and I call up the vendors who attended our last event in February. All five were my vendors first, and they agree to give bigger support to our huge charity event on July fourteenth and offer a smaller donation to the Sips and Swirls ice cream and wine event Amelia is planning for the first weekend in August—something that was my idea, and she’s taking all the credit.
And since it’s her event now, she can figure out how to get vendors.
I head down to the tasting room before it closes toward the end of the day. I’ve put in a full day of organizing July’s event, and I’m excited about the things I have in store.
Amelia is in there with Nana and Delilah, and she’s watching Delilah as she talks to some customers. It’s as if she’s studying her every move so she can imitate her later.
“Wait a minute,” the woman whose name escapes me at the moment says when her eyes fall on me. “Is it true that you married Spencer Nash?”
My cheeks flush. “Yes.”
“Is it true about the other women?” Amelia asks.
I turn toward her with a glare. “No. It’s false, in fact.” She seems surprised I know what she’s talking about. “Someone probably desperate for my husband’s attention started some fake social media accounts about him.”
“Too bad about the Vikings losing him,” the man says.
