professional validation. At least the newer pursuit was a possibility.
Callie was thirty minutes into entering the furniture inventory into a spreadsheet when someone knocked on her office door. Upon opening it, she found a stunning brunette on the other side. The woman was tall and lean, with an athletic build and long, wavy hair draped around her shoulders.
Were all the women on Anchor Island former runway models? If so, Callie’s self-esteem would be mush by the holidays.
“Can I help you?” she said, noticing Jack had once again left his post.
“Are you Calliope Henderson?” the woman asked, a hint of New England in her voice.
Callie nodded. “Yes, I am.”
A slender hand was extended, bangle bracelets chiming like the bells over the hotel entrance. “I’m Will Parsons. I run the wedding-coordinator business on the island. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
So this was the woman responsible for making Callie’s life more difficult. Though to be fair, Sam had been the one who’d agreed to the holiday wedding.
“No. Not a problem. Please,” Callie said. “Come in.”
“I tried to call ahead,” Will said, accepting the chair Callie offered, “but couldn’t get an answer at the front desk.”
Callie sighed. She really didn’t have time to train a new front-desk clerk. “I apologize for that. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
She had no idea if they had either prepared, since she’d brought her own tea from the cottage, but Callie offered out of habit and hoped she could find something.
“I’m good, thanks.” Will settled into the small chair in front of Callie’s desk, making her long legs more apparent as her knees nearly touched her ears. But she gracefully leaned to one side, crossing her denim-covered legs and bouncing one combat boot.
Black boots, tight jeans, and gold jewelry. The elements should have clashed, but Ms. Parsons made the combination work.
Callie regained her own seat, moving the laptop off to the side so she could see her visitor without obstruction. “I was excited to hear the island has a wedding-coordination business,” she said.
“I haven’t been in business for long,” Will admitted. “I set up shop halfway through the summer, so I’m still working on getting the word out and establishing Destination Anchor as a serious entity.”
“I hear you’re already bringing business our way. That’s a good sign.”
Will leaned an elbow on her knee and tapped her chin with one slender finger. “That’s what I’m here to talk about. I told Sam I could wait until next week to get a sense of what the end result will be after the renovation, but I’m afraid my client is less patient than I am.”
The tapping intensified, as did the rate at which the combat boot bounced. If Callie didn’t know better, she’d think Ms. Parsons was nervous about something.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asked again. Like maybe a mixed drink or some antacid?
Will shook her head, but the tapping continued.
“Ms. Parsons—”
“Please, call me Will.”
“Right. Will. I’m afraid we don’t have a finished plan, as I’ve only begun the proposal for Mr. Edwards’s review today. But I can tell you that the inn will be elegant yet cozy, with quality furnishings and linens. The colors will be soothing but refreshing, in a way that I’m sure your wedding party will find quite appealing.”
“And it’ll be done?” Will asked. “By Christmas?”
Though Callie had aired her own doubts the day before, she’d given Sam her word the hotel would be ready for business in time for the wedding. And so it would be. But the question did explain her visitor’s frayed nerves. As a new business, she couldn’t make a promise to a client without complete faith that she could back it up.
Callie understood Will’s dilemma.
“Yes,” she said, happy to put the coordinator’s fears to rest. “I admit there is much work to be done in a very short
Callie was thirty minutes into entering the furniture inventory into a spreadsheet when someone knocked on her office door. Upon opening it, she found a stunning brunette on the other side. The woman was tall and lean, with an athletic build and long, wavy hair draped around her shoulders.
Were all the women on Anchor Island former runway models? If so, Callie’s self-esteem would be mush by the holidays.
“Can I help you?” she said, noticing Jack had once again left his post.
“Are you Calliope Henderson?” the woman asked, a hint of New England in her voice.
Callie nodded. “Yes, I am.”
A slender hand was extended, bangle bracelets chiming like the bells over the hotel entrance. “I’m Will Parsons. I run the wedding-coordinator business on the island. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
So this was the woman responsible for making Callie’s life more difficult. Though to be fair, Sam had been the one who’d agreed to the holiday wedding.
“No. Not a problem. Please,” Callie said. “Come in.”
“I tried to call ahead,” Will said, accepting the chair Callie offered, “but couldn’t get an answer at the front desk.”
Callie sighed. She really didn’t have time to train a new front-desk clerk. “I apologize for that. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
She had no idea if they had either prepared, since she’d brought her own tea from the cottage, but Callie offered out of habit and hoped she could find something.
“I’m good, thanks.” Will settled into the small chair in front of Callie’s desk, making her long legs more apparent as her knees nearly touched her ears. But she gracefully leaned to one side, crossing her denim-covered legs and bouncing one combat boot.
Black boots, tight jeans, and gold jewelry. The elements should have clashed, but Ms. Parsons made the combination work.
Callie regained her own seat, moving the laptop off to the side so she could see her visitor without obstruction. “I was excited to hear the island has a wedding-coordination business,” she said.
“I haven’t been in business for long,” Will admitted. “I set up shop halfway through the summer, so I’m still working on getting the word out and establishing Destination Anchor as a serious entity.”
“I hear you’re already bringing business our way. That’s a good sign.”
Will leaned an elbow on her knee and tapped her chin with one slender finger. “That’s what I’m here to talk about. I told Sam I could wait until next week to get a sense of what the end result will be after the renovation, but I’m afraid my client is less patient than I am.”
The tapping intensified, as did the rate at which the combat boot bounced. If Callie didn’t know better, she’d think Ms. Parsons was nervous about something.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asked again. Like maybe a mixed drink or some antacid?
Will shook her head, but the tapping continued.
“Ms. Parsons—”
“Please, call me Will.”
“Right. Will. I’m afraid we don’t have a finished plan, as I’ve only begun the proposal for Mr. Edwards’s review today. But I can tell you that the inn will be elegant yet cozy, with quality furnishings and linens. The colors will be soothing but refreshing, in a way that I’m sure your wedding party will find quite appealing.”
“And it’ll be done?” Will asked. “By Christmas?”
Though Callie had aired her own doubts the day before, she’d given Sam her word the hotel would be ready for business in time for the wedding. And so it would be. But the question did explain her visitor’s frayed nerves. As a new business, she couldn’t make a promise to a client without complete faith that she could back it up.
Callie understood Will’s dilemma.
“Yes,” she said, happy to put the coordinator’s fears to rest. “I admit there is much work to be done in a very short
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