Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
I grin like I just won the lottery. My daughter is proud of me. “Love you too, baby.”
I’m still grinning when I pull into my driveway and my cell rings. It’s an unknown number, and I would usually let it go to voice mail, but at the last PTA meeting, a few Harrington moms mentioned calling about some spaces they needed redecorated.
“I’m gonna regret this,” I mutter before accepting the call. “Hello.”
“Soledad, hi. This is Delores Callahan.”
I almost drive through the garage door without lifting it, I’m so taken off guard.
“Oh. Delores.” I put the car in park so I can focus. “Hey. How are you?”
“I’m fine, but let’s skip the pleasantries.”
Right. Because who wants to be pleasant when you can be… Delores?
“Of course,” I say. “Was there something you needed?”
“Yes, we’re looking for someone to cook for the Christmas party at the house.”
“I cater some small dinner parties, but I’m not—”
“I would consider our executive Christmas dinner a small party. Smaller than three parties in one day at the Harvest Festival.”
I wouldn’t think Delores would have heard or cared about the Harvest Festival.
“You could prepare the food on-site if that’s easier,” she continues as if I weren’t in the process of turning her down. “A small city could fit in Pop’s kitchen. He has like three ovens. And you wouldn’t have to worry about cleanup. The same company that cleans the offices comes to clean up at the house after the party.”
“Look, Delores, don’t you think it would be kind of awkward for me to handle the food considering my ex-husband stole a lot of money from your company?”
“We bear you and your girls no ill will,” Delores says, her usually gruff voice smoothed with something close to kindness. “And we probably wouldn’t have gotten most of that money back without your help.”
“If I do this,” I say, “and that’s still a big if, I would prepare the menu we agree on and I’ll make sure everything’s set up, but I don’t want to attend the party. I don’t want to see everyone.”
“Pop’s assistant, Willa, usually handles a lot of details and hosting. You could hand most of the on-site stuff off to her.”
“I’m not sure,” I hedge.
“We pay generously.”
Now that gives me pause. Christmas is coming. I’d like to be able to get the girls a few things they really want, but even more, I’d like to not work much at all once they’re on holiday break. I could do a few easy sponsored posts, but otherwise, I want to get some quality time with my family.
“Can I think about it?” I ask, rubbing my tired eyes.
“Yes, but don’t take too long. Typically we’d have this settled already.”
“Typically your cousin Eileen does the party, and we know how vile her food is.”
Delores makes a strangled sound between a chuckle and a harrumph.
Shit. When will I learn to govern my mouth? Delores seems to bring out the sassy in me.
“True. Her food is inedible,” Delores agrees with no apparent animosity. “It’s been pointed out to me that using her every year could smack of nepotism.”
I stall, hearing the echo of a past conversation in which I told Judah the exact same thing. “Hey, Delores, what prompted you to approach me?”
“Didn’t you have a salad dressing go viral or something? A lot of people in the office were talking about that. We want that too.”
“So I had a vinaigrette go viral,” I say, allowing a sliver of my disbelief to creep in. “And now you want me to cater your holiday party?”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Send me the details and we’ll see.”
“Check your text messages.”
I pull the phone away and check my messages. The amount she’s proposing is as much as I made in the last three weeks combined. How can I not?
I pull the phone back to my ear.
“I guess we have a deal.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
JUDAH
I’m tempted to ignore the phone when it rings. For once I’m not working on a Saturday night. I was excited to give my career the attention I hadn’t been able to early on and am grateful for the opportunity at CalPot, but being a director at one of the largest companies in the state is incredibly demanding. The boys need so much during the week that I often bring lots of work home on the weekends.
But even I have to watch when Georgia plays Florida at Georgia. I’m kicking myself now for turning down the season tickets we get through the office, even though I, like the boys, sometimes get overwhelmed in crowds that huge. I haven’t gone to as many games the last few years as I would have liked.
But I do watch.
I ordered wings. I have cold beer. I’m set for a kid-less, workless night. But my phone ringing on the weekend is usually the boys or my job. I can’t ignore either.