I getto work a little after nine. Suzan doesn’t come in until after eleven, when she’s done with her daily one on one Pilates session with Jude. I set her green superfood juice in the cooler in her office so it’s ready for her arrival.
While the office is still quiet and before the emails start piling in and the phone starts ringing off the hook, I fire up my computer and search up venues in Istanbul for Logan’s event. I’m feeling rather giddy about the whole thing. Firstly, I’ve never travelled further than Los Angeles and that was for a class trip to Universal Studios.
My parents are hardworking, both been working since they were eighteen. They don’t like to travel and while we weren’t considered poor, they always opted for saving their money for a rainy day instead of spending it on a lavish vacation.
Traveling is my dream; it always has been since I was a little girl. Which is why, I chose to become an event planner, more specifically weddings is the route I would like to specialize in but I love all aspects of the job. Growing up I wanted to be an air stewardess, but my mother blew a casket when I brought it up and she went off into a two-hour long rant about the dangers of flying and she didn’t spend four days in labor giving me life so I could risk it for a meager salary.
It didn’t matter how much I tried to convince her that flying was the safest way to travel, she was having none of it, so we came to a compromise, and I settled for event planning which now that I think about it was the smarter choice for a career. As a little girl I was a fanatic of David Tutera, the celebrity wedding planner. It's going to take time and hard work, but I believe I’m on the right path and in the best place I could be to acquire the knowledge and proficiency to become a renowned event planner like him and Suzan, of course.
My phone rings, startling me from my thoughts. When I see Suzan’s name flashing across my screen. I swipe my finger across the screen and lift the phone to my ear. “Good morning, Suzan.”
“Savannah,” she croaks on the other end, her voice strained as though she’s in agony. “I’m on my way to the hospital—”
I sit upright with concern, “Oh my God, are you okay?”
Suzan sighs down the phone and snaps at whichever unfortunate person she is with. “No, I’ve dislocated a disc in my lower back during my Pilates session this morning and I’m in absolute agony.” She huffs irritably. “I’m going to be okay, but I’ll be out for a few days it seems, so I’m going to need you to hold the fort over there until I’m back.” I nod in understanding and pick up my pen to take notes while she delegates tasks and appointments that she has over the next couple of days. “Oh, and I’m supposed to be overlooking a birthday event this evening for a dear friend of mine. I’m going to need you to take point on that one. I’ll forward you the email with all the details.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll handle it, it’s quiet this week anyway so I can catch up on all our provisional bookings. Don’t worry about things here, you just focus on getting better,”
Suzan heaves a sigh, “You’re a star, Savannah. If you need anything—”
I shake my head and smile, waving off her comment like she could even see me. “Suzan, I’ll be okay. Feel better soon.” She utters a thank you and I hang up the phone and eye it for a long moment while chewing gingerly on my lip.
Oh my.
This is great.
Well, for me that is; not so great for Suzan’s back.
But I’ve been practically begging her for more responsibility, and it seems someone up there has been listening. I mean sure it sucks that she had to get hurt for me to get the opportunity, but as the saying goes, fate does work in mysterious ways and I’m not about to slap the gift horse in the mouth when it’s handed me a chance to prove to her and myself that I am more than capable of getting the job done without her micromanaging every little thing.
A little after nine the sales team come in and the phones start ringing off the hook with enquiries. I answer a couple of emails and meet with prospective clients to discuss their events in more detail. “Oh shoot, I need to dash.” I say in a flurry when I see the time is almost two in the afternoon. I take a large gulp of my coffee and gather the papers splayed out on the counter before me.
Traffic permitting, I should get to the client’s house for two-thirty to ensure everything is set and ready to go for the revelries.
Twenty minutes later I’m standing before a stunning, Palladian style mansion.
“Wow.”
* * *
“And what timeare the serving staff due to arrive?” I question the caterer while we walk through the bustling kitchen. Which is magnificently designed and awashed with modern features including expansive worktops, modern hobs and an assortment of other cooking devices I’m almost certain have not even been used.
I walk through toward the open plan living room which is set with cocktail tables dressed prettily with white rose centerpieces. The house itself is so beautifully finished and furnished that you don’t need much else. In the foyer a huge white rose backdrop with the words in soft pink roses, ‘Happy 40th April’. I stop and admire it, snapping a couple of photos so we can add it to our portfolio and website.
The huge hallway has two rows of tall windows, letting in a huge amount of natural light. The open feel is accentuated by two-fold-back doors.
“Staff are due to arrive any moment.”
I nod while typing out a quick reply to my mom asking me if I’ll be joining them on the weekend for my birthday dinner.
Gosh, as if I would miss that. I’m really looking forward to sinking my teeth into my momma’s delicious homemade fried chicken and waffle.
“Perfect, please brief them to circulate with the canapés and the champagne for arrival.” I say and glance down at my watch. “The String quartet should arrive momentarily, please have them setup in the backyard for the dinner.” He nods and utters a got it and walks off in the direction of the kitchen.
As the time nears six o’ clock, the guests are due to arrive any moment, so far, I’ve not seen the client around, she’s still up in her room getting glammed up. I’ve been dealing with her personal assistant Jenna. While we work, Suzan wants us to always look professional and presentable, hence why I brought a formal dress with me to change into for the party. I head over to one of the five bathrooms in the house and change into a simple red midi dress with spaghetti straps that hugs my body nicely and freshen up my make-up. I comb my fingers through my hair, ruffling up the roots for more volume before I walk out of the bathroom and make my way down the winding staircase, holding onto the guardrail for dear life so I don’t slip on the shiny marble floor in my three-inch heels.
“Sav?” I go stock-still, my blood freezing over in my veins when I hear that familiar voice behind me. Please, God, let it be my mind playing games on me and not…