Page 24 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)
Ruby
I don’t think Lin or I have ever been as close to a nervous breakdown as we were today.
We arrived at Boyd Hall at four, like we’d discussed with James and the others, to help the décor company get everything ready for tomorrow evening.
But the only person we found there was Mr. Jones, the caretaker, who was swearing loudly and colorfully into his phone, before subsequently informing us that the firm had accidentally double-booked themselves and decided to honor the more lucrative contract.
I just stood there in shock for a couple of minutes, then turned to Lin. The moment I looked into her eyes, I could tell that she was already mentally running through every option still open to us.
Mr. Jones added that after a bit of back and forth, the company had eventually agreed that they would at least drop off all the stuff we’d ordered from them at some point in the next hour. Even so, there weren’t enough of us to get everything set up and looking good in the time available.
To top it all off, Mr. Lexington suddenly turned up out of the blue and looked around the bare, undecorated hall in disbelief, at which point I wished the ground would just open up and swallow me.
I explained contritely what had happened, expecting him to shake his head in disappointment and start looking for a new chair for the events team.
But to my surprise, he just gave me a firm look and announced that he was going to find people to help.
Not long after that, the doors to Boyd Hall opened and the entire lacrosse team trooped into the room.
Without even glancing in our direction, James marched directly over to Jonesy, his expression grim, and then, as I looked on in amazement, Mr. Lexington got the attention of the rest of the team, pointed to Lin and me, and announced that all further instructions would come from us.
I then switched to autopilot, trying to dish out the jobs to be done among the boys in as organized a way as possible. That was an hour and a half ago now, and since then, I’ve pulled back from the brink of a breakdown, the same as Lin.
“It’s taking shape, don’t you think?” she says beside me as we work together to unroll a cable from the stage across Boyd Hall to the sound desk.
I look up and around me. Most of the decorations have already been put up, the stage is nearly built, and between them, Alistair and Wren have set up all the little tables on the floor in front of it.
“A bit further right, Ellington,” I hear the coach say suddenly, and take a closer look at how they’ve arranged them.
Oh no. There’s not enough room between the tables. I walk over to them and smile diplomatically at the lacrosse coach. “Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Freeman, but we need to make sure that people can get through between the tables.”
He blinks in surprise. Then he clears his throat and pulls his cap further down over his face. He takes a step back and beckons me forward with the other hand.
“Alistair,” I say. “Wait a moment.” I explain how much space we need between the tables so that guests have room to move.
“The first row can’t be too close to the stage either.
We can’t expect people to donate if they’ve been sat so close to the speakers that they’re deafened by the end of the evening. ”
I give a friendly yet determined smile and look expectantly at them until Alistair shakes his head with a sigh. “You’re hardcore, Ruby.”
While Wren and Alistair shift the tables into the right places, Lin and I start to check that all the cables on the sound desk are working.
“If we keep this up, we will actually be ready,” Lin says, but I hardly hear her because, at that moment, James comes through the huge main doors.
He’s carrying a table and glances at the plan Jessalyn is holding out to him. He looks around, then heads straight for the edge of the hall, where he puts the table down exactly where it needs to go. Then he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
Alistair wasn’t exaggerating when he said he couldn’t feel his arms anymore—the whole lacrosse team looks absolutely shattered.
They were doing the dreaded circuit training this afternoon.
After way less effort than they’ve been putting in, I really feel my muscles the next day, so I can’t imagine how sore the lads will be tomorrow.
I watch James as he takes a water bottle from Doug and swigs.
My stomach feels weirdly jittery. With his damp hair and flushed cheeks, in his lacrosse uniform, James really doesn’t look half bad.
Nuh-uh. I gulp. Suddenly, I’m remembering the last time I saw him breathless, sweaty, and red-faced.
That time, he was naked, whispering sweet nothings into my ear and kissing me until I lost my mind.
“Earth to Ruby?” Lin breaks into my trance. “Can you pass me that wire?”
“Yeah.” I hurriedly look away and try to steer my thoughts back to safer ground.
We don’t finish getting everything set up until well into the evening.
It seemed to take hours to drape the panels of fabric over the windows, and we needed several attempts to get the lighted columns mounted next to the stage.
At one point, part of the stage came down, nearly hitting Doug—fortunately, he got away with nothing worse than a shock and a grazed arm, which Camille patched up for him with surprising care.
We had to make a few compromises—like not being able to decorate the ceiling—but all in all, the results are respectable. Especially now that it’s dark and the chandeliers are filling the hall with their warm light.
All the round tables have been fully set.
There are white tablecloths with silver runners over them, silver candlesticks, carefully folded napkins, and fine porcelain plates.
Jessalyn crafted the table numbers to help people find their seats.
There’s a screen on either side of the stage, and the presentation about the Family Center that Doug put together is playing on the left, but the one on the right doesn’t seem to be working.
Still, I’ve got plenty of time to sort that out, and if necessary, I can get one of the technicians to come and have a look at it tomorrow morning.
The lightbulbs that James bought at the beginning of the week bathe parts of the room in a bluish-purple hue, and there are projectors throwing little circles of light onto the walls.
OK, so it all took twice as long as if the professionals had put everything together, and it’s not as absolutely perfect as I’d have liked, but I’m still proud of what we’ve achieved.
I can picture the atmosphere tomorrow evening—the elegant guests, the delicious-smelling food, the classical music, and the head teacher smiling with satisfaction.
I look around at the boys, who are all knocking back huge gulps of water. We could never have managed without them. I make up my mind, walk over, and clear my throat. Twenty heads turn toward me. I can tell by the tingle on the back of my neck that James’s is among them.
“Thank you for your help,” I begin, looking each of them in turn in the eye. Except James. I’m still shocked by the thoughts that bubbled up in me earlier at the sight of him, and I don’t want to risk blushing beetroot red in front of the whole team. “We really owe you.”
“How about you buy us all a drink tomorrow? Here at the gala?” Cyril suggests with a grin. “That would be…fun.”
“My offer from earlier still stands,” interjects Mr. Freeman. He turns to me. “We were about to head to the pub to toast their hard work at training.”
“Great idea, coach,” says Alistair, clapping his hands. “So, back to the original plan? Black Fox?”
All the lacrosse lads cheer.
“And the first round’s on me,” says the coach, straightening his cap. “And of course the events committee is invited along, Miss Bell. You’ve been putting hard work in too.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” mutters a guy I’ve never seen before in my life. “They’d have been screwed without us…”
“Shut it, Kenton,” says James with quiet menace.
Kenton presses his lips together.
“Let’s go,” Freeman says, nodding toward the doors.
The others head out with Doug, Camille, and the rest of my team following on behind. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought the lacrosse and events teams would go out for a drink together by choice.
Lin nudges me in the ribs. “I’m gonna talk to Cyril for once,” she whispers, her expression determined. “So I at least know where I stand.”
I nod. “Good idea.”
“You’re not coming, are you?”
I shake my head, and the firm look fades from Lin’s eyes.
“Then neither am I,” she says, nodding toward my clipboard. “I’ll help you.”
“Don’t be silly,” I reply, hugging it to my chest so that she can’t see the things still to be ticked off. “A chance like this isn’t going to come around again. Go, and try to find out why he’s been ghosting you. And if he acts like a dick, give him hell.”
Lin hesitates a moment longer, but I point firmly toward the doors, so she eventually turns and runs after the others. I hear her soles click through the hall, then a loud bang as the door slams shut behind her.
Now I can turn back to my list. I sigh with the realization that the feeling I’ve been carrying around for weeks—in my chest, my stomach, and my whole body—has gotten stronger, not faded. I wonder if it will ever stop. I shake off the thoughts and get to work, ticking off the jobs.
First I head to the grand piano to the right of the stage and polish away each of the fingerprints left by our helpers on its glossy black surface.
Then I play music quietly on my phone, which I slip into the back pocket of my jeans.
As I listen to the soothing tones of Vancouver Sleep Clinic, I check that the name labels and place settings are right on every table.
“You didn’t come to the pub,” says a voice behind me suddenly.