I’ve done nothing but screw up since I started working for him. I vow to make the dinner party the best it can be. One his mother would have enjoyed.
The next few days go by in a blaze of activity. We fall into a comfortable pattern, Sterling MacKay and I. In the morning he emails or hands me my list of things to do for the day, and I attack them with a vengeance. By the following Wednesday, everything’s set for the dinner party. I’ve ordered the food, scheduled the catering staff, requested plenty of flagrant blooms. For some reason, he wanted flowers in every room. Must be something his mother did.
On Thursday, I go shopping for clothes at the stores he recommended. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t had time to do it until now. Thankfully, the stores are all located in and around Tyson’s Corner. After I give the store clerks his name, I’m waited on hand and foot. By the time I’m finished, my feet ache. But I’m now the proud possessor of a kick-ass wardrobe, everything on his list plus a couple of items bought with the American Express card he had delivered to me for ‘incidentals’. Since I haven’t seen a dime of my salary, I put my personal items on the card but keep an accounting so I can reimburse him once I get paid.
On Friday, my first paycheck arrives. By messenger. The man sure loves to keep them busy. After FICA and taxes are taken out, it’s more than I’ve ever seen. After I deposit my money, I write a check to the facility that handled my mother’s care, a full half of the amount I just received. With any luck, by the end of the year, her medical bills will be paid. I write another check for the personal items I purchased and put it in Sterling MacKay’s bank account.
That night, we meet in his office to go over the dinner arrangements. But before we have a chance to do that, he asks, “Why is there a deposit from you in my checking account for $157.01?”
“I used the American Express card to pay for personal things.”
“Like what?”
My cheeks flush with heat. “Underwear.”
He fights back a smile. “Very well. Is everything in place for the dinner party tomorrow?”
“Yes. Everyone accepted your invitation. I wanted to cover the seating arrangement with you so I can make the place cards. Anton seems to think the numbers are off.” On his orders, the prig had called to make sure everything had been handled. It’d hurt, that phone call. It meant MacKay didn’t trust me to take care of things. But then, why should he? I’ve screwed up time and again. But I’ve handled everything on his list so I can take pride in my accomplishments.
“What do you mean the numbers are off?”
“You invited ten people, plus you that makes eleven. So that leaves an empty space at the table.”
“There’s no empty space. That’s where you will seat, Ms. Bennett.”
My stomach lurches. “Me?” I choke out.
“Yes. You. I would like you to play hostess.”
I gulp. “Hostess?” I’ve never held a dinner party in my life. Much less a fancy one. How can he entrust me with such a task?
“It’s not that hard. You can do it.” Smiling, he cocks his head to the side. Tension no longer rides his shoulders. He actually trusts me to handle this.
Very well. If that’s he wants, I’ll do my best. “What do you need me to do?”
“You only need to be yourself. During the dinner party, I will address you by your first name. I would appreciate it if you would the same with me. Mr. MacKay sounds odd in a social setting.”
“Yes, Mr. MacKay.”
He lifts a brow. “Let’s practice now, shall we? Caitlyn.” He points to me. No doubt what he wants me to do.
“Yes, S-Sterling.” His name emerges as a whisper, not the firm tone of a personal assistant. Can’t help it. That darn S at the front of his moniker lends itself to a soft pronunciation. Never mind it’s followed by a hard T.
“Good.” His gray glance lands on me, for once shining with approval.
What
The next few days go by in a blaze of activity. We fall into a comfortable pattern, Sterling MacKay and I. In the morning he emails or hands me my list of things to do for the day, and I attack them with a vengeance. By the following Wednesday, everything’s set for the dinner party. I’ve ordered the food, scheduled the catering staff, requested plenty of flagrant blooms. For some reason, he wanted flowers in every room. Must be something his mother did.
On Thursday, I go shopping for clothes at the stores he recommended. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t had time to do it until now. Thankfully, the stores are all located in and around Tyson’s Corner. After I give the store clerks his name, I’m waited on hand and foot. By the time I’m finished, my feet ache. But I’m now the proud possessor of a kick-ass wardrobe, everything on his list plus a couple of items bought with the American Express card he had delivered to me for ‘incidentals’. Since I haven’t seen a dime of my salary, I put my personal items on the card but keep an accounting so I can reimburse him once I get paid.
On Friday, my first paycheck arrives. By messenger. The man sure loves to keep them busy. After FICA and taxes are taken out, it’s more than I’ve ever seen. After I deposit my money, I write a check to the facility that handled my mother’s care, a full half of the amount I just received. With any luck, by the end of the year, her medical bills will be paid. I write another check for the personal items I purchased and put it in Sterling MacKay’s bank account.
That night, we meet in his office to go over the dinner arrangements. But before we have a chance to do that, he asks, “Why is there a deposit from you in my checking account for $157.01?”
“I used the American Express card to pay for personal things.”
“Like what?”
My cheeks flush with heat. “Underwear.”
He fights back a smile. “Very well. Is everything in place for the dinner party tomorrow?”
“Yes. Everyone accepted your invitation. I wanted to cover the seating arrangement with you so I can make the place cards. Anton seems to think the numbers are off.” On his orders, the prig had called to make sure everything had been handled. It’d hurt, that phone call. It meant MacKay didn’t trust me to take care of things. But then, why should he? I’ve screwed up time and again. But I’ve handled everything on his list so I can take pride in my accomplishments.
“What do you mean the numbers are off?”
“You invited ten people, plus you that makes eleven. So that leaves an empty space at the table.”
“There’s no empty space. That’s where you will seat, Ms. Bennett.”
My stomach lurches. “Me?” I choke out.
“Yes. You. I would like you to play hostess.”
I gulp. “Hostess?” I’ve never held a dinner party in my life. Much less a fancy one. How can he entrust me with such a task?
“It’s not that hard. You can do it.” Smiling, he cocks his head to the side. Tension no longer rides his shoulders. He actually trusts me to handle this.
Very well. If that’s he wants, I’ll do my best. “What do you need me to do?”
“You only need to be yourself. During the dinner party, I will address you by your first name. I would appreciate it if you would the same with me. Mr. MacKay sounds odd in a social setting.”
“Yes, Mr. MacKay.”
He lifts a brow. “Let’s practice now, shall we? Caitlyn.” He points to me. No doubt what he wants me to do.
“Yes, S-Sterling.” His name emerges as a whisper, not the firm tone of a personal assistant. Can’t help it. That darn S at the front of his moniker lends itself to a soft pronunciation. Never mind it’s followed by a hard T.
“Good.” His gray glance lands on me, for once shining with approval.
What
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