Page 4 of Marry Me Tomorrow
“It’s on the house,” she says. “Please, as a favor to me. I have to make up for whatever this oaf of a man did.” She shoots Trent a glare.
“Dude!” Trent says. “I didn’t do anything.” He holds up his hands defensively. “Honest, I just saved . . .” He turns to me and whispers, “What’s your name?”
“Jenny,” I whisper back.
“Right, I just saved Jenny here from being flattened like a pancake by a car in the street. I’m a hero. Don’t I deserve a little recognition for my heroic acts?”
Holly rolls her eyes but smiles as she tends to my scrape. “Probably your fault in the first place,” she mutters.
“You two are the funniest siblings,” I say with a hesitant laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.
Both of them freeze, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter. “Dude,” Trent says, “Greg would die if he heard that!”
“Oh, no, Jenny,” Holly says, still chuckling. “We’re not siblings. We’ve just been friends since childhood. I’m happily married to his best friend, Greg.” She holds out her hand to show off a simple but elegant wedding band.
After cleaning up my scrape, Holly hands me two orange-cinnamon muffins and a vanilla-coconut bar. “These are my Sunrise Sin muffins and a Butter Me Up bar.”
Trent grabs one of the muffins, stuffs the whole thing in his mouth, and turns to leave. “I’ve got to head back to the marina,” he says. “The place won’t run itself.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I didn’t mean to keep you.”
He swallows, then waves off my apology with a grin. “No need for that. I was happy to help. I hope this turns your day around. Just keep your head up when walking near the street, okay?”
I nod, watching as he jaunts out the door, his easy stride radiating confidence. Once he’s gone, I settle into a chair and pull out my sketchpad. I don’t normally sketch people, but there’s something about Trent—that mix of warmth and energy—that I need to capture. My pencil moves across the page, sketching his bright smile and those lake-blue eyes.
An hour later, my food is untouched, but the sketch is finished. It’s not perfect. I normally go for the more abstract and landscape drawings, but it captures the essence of the man who saved me.
“Wow.” Holly’s voice startles me. “That’s amazing,” she says, her eyes wide with admiration. I snap the sketchpad closed, embarrassed. I’d been so lost in my art that I’d forgotten where I was.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Just normally people finish my baked goods quickly, and when you didn’t, I thought something was wrong. Plus you’d been so focused, I just wanted to check and make sure everything was okay.” She looks at me a moment. “Is it? Okay, that is?” she asks gently. The question, paired with the morning’s events, makes my throat tighten.
“Yes . . . no . . . I don’t know, honestly,” I sniffle a little as the morning at the bank and nearly getting hit by a car comes crashing back to me. “Any chance you’re hiring?” I said softly, almost jokingly.
A sad but contemplative look crosses Holly’s eyes, her gaze momentarily distant. “Unfortunately, I’m not,” she says, her voice tinged with regret. But then, as if struck by an idea, her expression brightens. “But I know who is. And I happen to be good friends with him.”
Before I can respond, she glances toward the counter, calling back to another baker bustling behind the glass display case. “I’m taking a break!” she announces, wiping her hands on her apron. With a bright smile, she pulls out the chair across from me and sits down, her enthusiasm evident in the way she leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table.
She shares everything there is to know about the Chessie Valley Lake Marina and Lodge. Her words flow with the ease of someone who not only knows the place intimately but holds genuine affection for it. As she speaks, I can almost picture it—rustic wooden docks, shimmering water, the hum of activity mixed with the calm of the lake. The artist in me itches to paint it, and I haven’t even seen it yet.
“That place sounds wonderful,” I say, my heart lifting as hope stirs in my chest. “And from what you’re saying, it’s an assistant-type position.”
“That’s right.”
“I could definitely handle that.”
Holly’s lips twitch, suppressing a smile, as she says, “There’s one more thing I haven’t mentioned yet, and I hope it doesn’t sway you from interviewing.”
“Oh no,” I reply, a knot forming in my stomach. “What is it?” The hope that had been bubbling up inside me threatens to evaporate just as quickly.
She hesitates, then finally says, “Trent, the one who brought you in here . . .”
I nod slowly, encouraging her to continue.
“Well,” she says, “he runs the marina, so you’d be interviewing with him.”
Relief washes over me as I laugh lightly. “Oh, that doesn’t sound bad at all! You made it seem like there was going to be some awful catch. Trent was so kind to me today. It shouldn’t be a problem to work with him.” That tiny flicker of hope starts to settle more comfortably in my chest.
Holly waves a hand as though brushing away her earlier hesitation. “He is kind. I just wasn’t sure . . .” She trails off, her lips twitching again before shaking her head. “You know what? Never mind. I’m in love with this idea, and think you’d be perfect for the position.” Her enthusiasm is infectious as she adds, “I’ll talk to my husband Greg—you remember I told you he handles the marina’s marketing—and I’ll make sure you have an interview first thing tomorrow.”
