Sand Castle Bay (Ocean Breeze) - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,11
faintest possibility that he was going to get through Emily’s visit with his sanity intact, especially with his eight-year-old apparently as enamored with her as he’d once been?
* * *
Emily had made herself a promise not to check her cell phone for messages until she’d spent a little time with family, but ingrained habits were hard to break. When she heard the signal for yet another text message in the past half hour, she excused herself from the table.
“Sorry. I need to deal with this,” she said.
“Told you she wouldn’t last an hour without checking her phone,” Samantha teased. “I’m just surprised you haven’t been on yours yet, Gabi.”
Gabi flushed guiltily. “Actually I made a few calls and sent a couple of emails right before you all got here. My very efficient assistant is on top of things at the office. She knows how to reach me if anything crops up that she can’t handle.”
“I wish I had one of those,” Emily said. “Mine’s great at taking messages and following up on details, but when it comes to taking the initiative or pacifying clients, that’s all on me.” She gestured with the phone. “And that’s what I’m dealing with now.”
“Go ahead and make your calls,” Cora Jane told her.
On the deck, Emily returned a call from Sophia Grayson, a high-maintenance Beverly Hills socialite who expected everything to be done yesterday. She paid top dollar to make that happen, and her acceptance of Emily had been a huge recommendation in certain circles.
“You’re up early,” Emily said when she’d reached her. “It’s barely eight o’clock out there.”
“I’m up early because I haven’t slept all night,” Sophia complained with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve been fretting about that disastrous mix-up with the drapery fabric. You know I’m throwing a very important party in less than two weeks, Emily. You promised every last detail would be completed in plenty of time.”
“And they will be,” Emily assured her. “The new drapes are being made as we speak. I spoke to Enrico myself, and he’s appalled by the mistake. He’s put his best people on the job and he’ll have the replacements ready to be installed tomorrow.”
“What about the paint in the dining room?” Sophia complained. “It’s just awful. I would never have chosen that color. People will feel as if they’re inside a pumpkin.”
“I did warn you that orange could be overwhelming,” Emily felt compelled to say, “but we have the backup ready to go. I think you’ll be much happier with the taupe. It’s so classy, definitely much more expressive of your excellent taste and style. The crew will be there at nine and should be out by this afternoon.”
“I know taupe will be just fine, but I’d hoped for a little pop of color for a change,” Sophia said with a sigh of regret.
“And we’ll have that in the accessories,” Emily assured her. “You have an appointment with Steve from Rodeo Gallery to look at art this afternoon. I think you’ll find a lovely painting for your collection of fresh new artists that will give you exactly the splash of color you want. Once you’ve chosen that, we can add a few other touches to bring it all together.”
“I suppose,” Sophia said. “You do know I trust you, Emily. You haven’t let me down yet. Where are you, though? Why aren’t you here? Isn’t on-site oversight part of that fee I pay for your services?”
“I’m dealing with a bit of a family emergency in North Carolina, Sophia, but you’re not to worry. Everything’s under control. If you need me, all you have to do is call.”
A beep told her she had another call. “Sweetie, I have to run,” she told Sophia. “I’ll speak to you later today, make sure everything’s on track. Text me if you need me before then.”
She cut off the call before Sophia could come up with another crisis. Glancing at the caller ID, she saw the name of the client she’d just met with in Aspen.
“We like your ideas,” Derek Young said without preamble. “How soon can you get back here to get started? We’d like to have the lodge up and running by December first to take full advantage of the ski season. Thanksgiving would be even better.”
Emily hated the thought of putting him off, but she had little choice. “It’ll be a couple of weeks at least,” she admitted. “If there’s any way to make it sooner, I will. I’ll be honest with you, though, Derek. December might