Page 7 of Lucy Loves Him Not
“I’m asking to keep this in my family. In honor of my grandmother. You won’t regret it. It’salwaysbeen this way. It’s a well-oiled machine.” I clasped my hands together in promise.
He nearly winced. “I have to do things differently.”
“Well, to be frank, you’ll be doing them wrong,” I said quickly without thinking.
He blinked at my words, surprised, and said, “Well, to be frank, I disagree.”
“There’s a good reason I did it the last two years. That I think you would realize?—”
“That reason is because Jeff was lazy,” he interjected.
“No, Jeff was just smart enough to know a good thing when he had it.”
“Lucy, I respect that this was your grandmother’s idea and that she was such a passionate volunteer that they let her take the reins. The town has grown and changed, and now the festival must, as well.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“But she left it to me. I could help it grow and change,” I said, though the task sounded daunting. I liked calling the same people and setting up the same booths year after year. It feltas traditional and reassuring as following your grandmother’s apple pie recipe.
“It wasn’t hers to leave to you. She was a passionate city volunteer, but this originated as a city event. It has remained a city event. It is underourumbrella.” He gave a weak smile.
“So, it was her idea, she ran it every year, but you feel fine minimizing her efforts by saying it wasn’t hers?” I was on the edge of my seat, leaning toward him.
“Miss Rhodes, I’m not dismissing her, but it is Sweet River’s Festival, otherwise it would be named Rhodes Summer Festival.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk and eyes on me.
I blew past his attempt at a joke. “This is your first year here. Why wouldn’t you wait and see how it’s done before making me a measly volunteer in charge of handing out hot dogs?”
He let out a small laugh. “I had no intention of putting you in the hot dog stand. But I will say, to be blunt, I saw the reports and knew I needed to make some changes to the festival.”
“Why? Why are you so set on changing things?” I threw my hands into the air.
“Because…” He bit his lip and fidgeted with paperwork on his desk. “There’s been a steady decline in fundraising and attendance the past few years. It’s getting smaller and smaller, which is the opposite of our city’s growth. We’re getting bigger, so our event should be getting bigger, too. This festival has so much potential to give back to the city, our small businesses, and schools. I’d like to see it thrive.”
I felt punched in the gut. My cheeks went red.I’ve made the festival…worse?
“You’re not a professional,” he said simply. “No one should’ve expected this job of volunteer.”
They could expect it of Clara Rhodes,I thought bitterly.
“Fine, point made.” I stood up. “I’ll send you everything you need.”
“Miss Rhodes.” He stood up, too. He was taller than me, which wasn’t hard to do at my five foot three, but he had a presence. He was in a button-down with a tie that was hanging loose. “You’re still welcome to volunteer.”
I laughed. “Sure you want the crazy redhead who fought with you on the phone to join the planning team?”
“I think the crazy redhead seems like a total MVP. No doubt you care.” His words were nice, but his tone was overly professional. Like a boss letting you go, but sending you off with a pep talk.
I was too embarrassed to take it any other way. He had just told me that under my “care” the numbers had plummeted.
“You can shoot me an email if you find yourself in a pinch, but as you said, you’re the professional. Hope you can get the numbers up,” I said, my tail between my legs, already regretting things I’d said.
He walked out from behind his desk as I started toward the door. He looked like he had more to say, so I slowed my pace, curious despite my tornado of bad feelings toward this man. He’d taken not only the festival but my pride in a couple of hours.
He opened his mouth as my eyes met his, but then he stopped himself. “I’ll see you around,” he finally said as I walked out the door.
I didn’t say anything back as I walked toward the elevator. I felt his eyes on me.
I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t see him ever again. I wished I hadn’t told him about Coffees and Commas. Now I’d have to fear running into him.
Tears started to stream down my cheeks as the elevator doors closed around me.
