Chapter Twenty

Now

I don’t know what to pack for my trip to Las Vegas. I’ve never been there. I wonder if I’ll have time to go to a show or if it’ll only be about work. I don’t want to ask and seem to be taking advantage of a work trip for personal business, but I’m excited.

We’ll be there on a Tuesday, but I hear Vegas is a city that never sleeps so there should be plenty of things to do during the week. Maybe it will be less crowded, making it possible to do something in the evening without advanced reservations.

All of my work materials are packed. The presentation is in a large casino with a huge convention center being built next to it. Alexander Corporation designed layouts to make the convention space appealing to prospective users.

I’ve worked as an assistant at many companies and have planned a lot of events. I know what works and what doesn’t work. Two huge pet peeves when attending a conference are not being able to find rooms and not having enough bathrooms.

It’ll be exciting to be a part of this job, to sit with a designer discussing what will and won’t work. The hallways that spur off into more hallways and have rooms such as L-24A drive me insane. Mark the hallways with names. The Rose Hall, the Imperial Hall, the Presidential Hall. Then have numbered rooms R-101, P-202. There’s no need to have letters after them. There are enough numbers available without confusing guests. And to make it even less confusing don’t use words that began with the same letter. If there is a Presidential Hall, don’t have a Peacock Hall. There won’t be more than twenty-six halls so each one can start with a different letter of the alphabet.

The designers listen to me and nod as if they think my ideas are brilliant, making me feel on top of the world. I might be able to suggest colors and fixtures if they want details, as I have two weeks to plan.

Now I know why people get so caught up in their jobs. I’m more understanding of my husband working late into the night because I do exactly that when I start planning. I sit down with my computer and notebook and search, writing down ideas, hoping to spend the day in Vegas with the design team and see my ideas come to life.

Maybe I won’t want to go to a show. But my nerves shatter thinking about presenting these ideas. This is a huge Las Vegas Resort and Casino. They’ll compete with many other conference spaces, and they’ll want theirs to be the best. If they choose us, it will be a ginormous amount of money for the company, and the first time I’ll be involved with a project like this from beginning to end.

A car picks me up from my house, making me feel special. It’s silly, but I’ve never had this kind of treatment before. It’s sort of cool to be picked up.

Mason gives me a distracted kiss on the cheek and I’m out the door. The driver grabs my bag and I thank him, wondering if I’m supposed to give him a tip. I haven’t done this sort of thing before. I hope I have enough cash.

“We’ll be at the airport in about thirty minutes, Mrs. Dagwood,” he says. “I’m Paul.”

“Thank you, Paul.” It’s just me in the back of the black SUV, and I keep my computer bag with me so I can look over my notes on the ride. I’m glad the driver isn’t a chatty guy. My stomach is too nervous for small talk.

I hope I have the right clothes, the right work materials. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything. I packed and repacked three times. I brought one nice dinner dress just in case, and a couple pairs of jeans and comfortable shirts. The rest of my clothes are all business wear.

We present to the casino two days after we arrive. So the first day we’ll go to the site and tour it. Kaden has already been there multiple times, and Dell has shown me other places the company has designed. It’s apparent how successful Kaden is. But even if I don’t admit it out loud, I think this design is the best one yet. I have a bit of pride, but I’m trying to tamper it.

The SUV arrives at the airport quickly, but when I look at my phone I see it’s been half an hour. We don’t pull up to the main terminal but to a private entrance.

“We’re here,” Paul says as he opens my door. I get out and look at him with confusion. “You’ll be flying on the corporate jet,” he says.

“Oh.” There’s awe in my voice. He laughs.

“I like that look on your face. I’ve yet to ride on one of those fancy jets, but when I do, I’m sure I’ll look just like you.”

“If I have any influence I’ll make sure you get a ride,” I tell Paul as I reach in my pocket for some cash.

He shakes his head and won’t accept it. “I’m a personal driver for Mr. Alexander. The pay is taken care of,” he says.

Is it odd he picked me up? Doesn’t he have more important people to take care of? I’m certainly not going to ask Paul. I thank him, grab my bag, and walk inside the private terminal. It’s a beautiful building.

A woman shows me to the back door and when I walk outside I’m stunned again at what I see. A huge white jet waits, the stairs down, carpet running to them. She’s leading me to it while someone else takes my bag and pushes it to the back of the jet where a loader is waiting.

“This is what we’re flying in?” I ask, feeling quite intimidated.

The girl laughs just as Paul did. “Yeah, she’s a beauty. I see a lot of private jets come in and out of here. It’s more fun to work in this area than the main terminal, and this jet is one of the nicer ones. I’ve been inside and you’re in for a real treat. Too bad it’s such a short flight.”

“How long does it take?” I ask.

“Only about an hour and a half,” she says as if it was a sin to fly that short distance in this beautiful machine.

“I’ve never flown on a private jet. I flew first class to Hawaii for my honeymoon what feels like forever ago, but other than that I . . .” My words trail off. I really don’t know what I’m trying to say.

“I totally get it. I’ve worked here for five years, and I’ve seen the inside of a lot of these jets, but I’ve never gone anywhere on one. Someday . . .” she finishes wistfully. I want to promise I’ll get her a ride, but I might not want to promise things I have no chance of delivering on.

I thank her for her help then step into the large jet. I hear voices and follow the sound. Dell and Jenny are already on the jet, drinks in their hands, their heads close together as they laugh about something. I approach them, hoping I don’t look as awestruck as I feel.

The jet is decorated in creams and soft blues. It looks classy yet comfortable. A table and chairs are secured to the floor in the back of the main room. There are also several comfortable chairs and couches with tables beside or in front of them. Work can easily be done while we’re flying.

“I’m Janice. Go ahead and take any seat,” a young woman wearing a pretty blue dress says. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll . . . uh . . . have a water I guess,” I answer.

“No way. It’s not a work night. Get a pink margarita. I promise you they’re to die for,” Dell calls out. He sounds as if he’s had a few of those already.

“I guess I’ll take that,” I tell the Janice. She smiles and disappears.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” I ask.

Jenny giggles. “Oh, Dell was just telling me about how he’d been installing a new stereo in his truck, and his three-year-old son was helping him. Dell didn’t pay attention for maybe five minutes, and when he looked up, his side mirror was gone. His son had figured out how to use the screwdriver and disassembled the thing that quickly. Dell was so proud of him for figuring it out that the boy didn’t get in trouble.” Jenny laughs.

I join them in laughter. There’s a small tug in my tummy as Dell continues telling stories of his children. I’m beginning to realize I won’t ever be a mother. It wouldn’t be right to bring a child into the world when I’m not sure my marriage will survive. And though I’m far from ancient, I can practically feel my time clock ticking away. Maybe I’m too selfish to have a child. I honestly don’t know.

The rest of the crew joins us over the next half hour and somehow I manage to drink two of the pink margaritas. I have no idea what’s in them, but Dell’s right, they’re delicious. I’m feeling pretty good when Kaden steps into the jet.

I look at him and his eyes spark the slightest bit. I must show some of my feelings, because he instantly responds. I set my drink down and decide it might not be the best idea for me to get tipsy when I’m around this man. I can’t afford to let down my defenses.

“Is everybody ready?” he asks as he tears his gaze from me and looks at the rest of the group.

“More than ready, Boss,” Dell says.

“Then let’s get this bird in the air.” He walks to the front of the jet and I let out a sigh of relief. As long as I stay with the pack I’ll be fine. I pick my drink up again. A little liquid courage to get through this flight is just what the doctor ordered.