Page 80 of Just The Way You Aren't

"I have all the permits?—"

"Yes, but they need to be updated to reflect the new layout. Can you come by?"

I check the time. It's not even 9 AM and I already feel like I've run a marathon. "Sure. I'll be there by ten."

Janet and I spend the next hour reconstructing centerpieces. They're different from what I planned, but maybe better—more organic, more real. Like everything about Silver Hearts.

When I finally make it to The Plaza, Samuel meets me with a tablet and a concerned expression. "The good news is, we can approve your layout with minor modifications. The bad news is, you need three additional signatures by 2 PM."

"Of course I do." I manage a smile. "Where do I get these signatures?"

He hands me a list. Three different city offices. Because naturally, they couldn't all be in one building.

As I race across town, my phone rings. It's Dr. Martinez from Mount Sinai. "Willow? I'm afraid Mr. Fitzgerald had a fall this morning. He's stable, but he won't be able to attend tonight."

My heart clenches. Mr. Fitzgerald was supposed to give one of our client speeches about how Silver Hearts helped him stay independent after his wife died. "Is he okay?"

"Bruised ribs, mostly his pride. He's devastated about missing the event."

"Tell him not to worry. He needs to focus on getting better." I hang up and immediately dial Abby. "We need a new client speaker. What about Mrs. Patterson?"

"In Florida visiting her daughter. Mrs. Young?"

"Cataract surgery yesterday." I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. "What about Juana?"

"Available, but her English?—"

"Is perfect when she's passionate about something,” I insist. “Call her. Right now. Tell her we need her story tonight."

The permit offices are their own special hell. By the time I escape with the necessary signatures, it's past noon and I haven't eaten anything except the half a Pop-Tart I found in my car.

My phone shows seven missed calls and half as many texts. I dial Abby first.

"Don't panic," she starts again.

"Abby, I swear every time you say that?—"

"The Berkshires delivery is back on track. Auction items will arrive by 3 PM. And Mrs. Hollingsworth agreed to the dessert buffer. Also, Juana said yes, but she's nervous."

Some of the tension in my shoulders eases. "Okay. Good. What about the photographer?"

"Still working on it. But I did confirm the band, the caterer, and the volunteers."

"You're a lifesaver." I merge into traffic, heading back to the office. "I still need to?—"

"Shower, eat, and get ready?" Abby interrupts. "Already blocked your calendar from 4 PM on. What about the pets tonight?"

"Oh God, I forgot about?—"

"No problem. I'll pet-sit. Already figured you might need that."

"Abby, I could kiss you."

"Save it for Damien," she teases. "Speaking of which..."

"Don't start." But I'm smiling despite myself. "I’m nervous without thinking about how tonight's officially our last obligation to each other."

"But?"

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