Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Christopher grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who just says what’s on their mind like you do.”
“Oh, I don’t. I frequently withhold feelings in order to protect the feelings of others.” Did I just say that? I hung my head in mortification. “I seem to have a slight filter issue around you, Christopher, apologies.”
“You can call me Chris, please.” He was still smiling. “And I think you’re very refreshing.”
Something about his tone made my cheeks hot. “Thank you.” I pulled my seat a little closer to the table and knocked my knee against his. My pulse throbbed in my neck as I tucked my legs back under my seat.
“You look a little flushed. Are you okay?”
“Uh, I walked here. That’s probably why.” It has nothing to do with my knee touching your knee, or the fact that I’ve reverted to a fourteen-year-old.
“In those shoes?” Chris raised a brow.
He noticed my shoes? When? “I’m used to walking in them. My mom put me in my first pair of heels when I was fourteen and told me I better get used to them because they would help me overcome the disadvantage of being short.”
“Is your mother short?”
“Nope.”
“So how did she know you were done growing at fourteen? For all she knew, you might have grown into supermodel height.”
“That’s what I said.” I replied a little loudly in my enthusiasm because it was exactly what I used to say to her when I was a teen. I flushed at my volume-control issue while Chris chuckled.
“Well,” I continued more quietly. “She was right. Five foot four is not exactly tall. And I am now very used to walking in high heels. They hurt by the end of the day, but you grow used to the ache, you know.” And why was I still talking about high heels?
Embarrassed by my rambling, I turned to why we were here.
Work.
“So let’s talk about your retirement party.” I pulled my tablet out of my purse and tapped its pen on the screen to quickly open up my notes. “The first thing I need to know is budget. Do you have a budget in mind?”
“Ah, okay. Um . . . I have to admit I am clueless to how much it costs to throw a party. I don’t want to spend crazy amounts of money . . .”
Seeing how lost he looked, I countered to rescue him. “What’s most important to you? Food or venue?”
“Food. Always food.” He grinned.
I grinned back. “Good choice. Okay, well, let’s just discuss what you’re looking for, and we’ll come back to budget.”
He nodded for me to continue.
“Most people want to jump right into discussing and nailing down the venue. However, I like to discuss food and music because those things actually give me a much better sense of the kind of energy you’d like at your event. So, Chris, what are you thinking?” I looked him directly in the eyes as he leaned toward me. “Food: Do you want a formal sit-down dinner, or would you prefer something more relaxed, where food is served sporadically throughout?”
“The latter. Definitely the latter.”
I noted that. “Do you want to do a buffet, canapés, and snacks . . . Or we could even do something along the lines of a relaxed cookout. We could hire a chef who is a master of the grill, and we could do burgers, hot dogs, maybe even some seafood?”
“That sounds perfect actually. The cookout idea. I think it would appeal to a lot of my guests.” He frowned. “Maybe not all though.”
Scrawling on my tablet, I made another list heading. “Let’s talk about guests, then. Who in general—I don’t need names right now, though I will need a guest list as soon as possible—will be attending? Give me the generalized groups.”
Chris’s gaze never left my face. “Friends from the air force, from NASA. College buddies. All of whom I’m sure would love the cookout. But I’ll also be inviting the Hawthornes, my father . . .”
I smiled to myself as I wrote. “Okay, I understand. I think, however, we’re going to concentrate on the fact that this is your retirement party, a celebration of you, and it should reflect who you are. If a cookout is what you want, I can come up with ways to refine how it’s served to guests who might not want to stand in a line at a grill or eat messy food with their hands.”
“Sounds great.”
“Okay, fantastic. That was easy.” I smiled. “What about music? Do you want live music? A deejay? Or are you happy for us just to use a sound system to play a prearranged playlist?”
“A sound system is fine.”
“Genre of music?”
Chris shook his head. “I don’t want classical music. Too formal. A relaxed playlist. Maybe a mix of classic rock and pop. No techno, no dance, nothing too divisive that might grate on some people.”