Page 3 of The Maine Event (Romancing the Workplace #2)

TWO

“Woohoo, we made it to Wisconsin!” Richard cheers as we pass the sign announcing the state border. Claire, sitting shotgun, grins and gives him a high five.

The road trip to the cabin is already an exercise in patience and we’ve only been on the road for ninety minutes.

I’m crammed into the back between two car seats, my nieces babbling and giggling on either side of me.

The air is thick with the scent of strawberry yogurt and baby wipes, and I can already feel a headache forming behind my eyes.

“Rach, Rach, look!” My older niece, Lily, thrusts a sticky handful of chips towards my face. “I’m sharing with you!”

“Oh, um, thanks, Lily,” I manage, gingerly accepting a soggy chip and trying not to grimace. “That’s very nice of you.”

Claire catches my eye in the rearview mirror and grins. “Isn’t this fun, Rach? Just like old times, hitting the road for a family adventure.”

“Sure, if by ‘old times’ you mean ‘never,’ since we definitely didn’t take many road trips growing up,” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably as Lily’s baby sister, Anna, lets out a piercing shriek.

“Oh, come on, where’s your sense of adventure?” Claire teases. “This is going to be great, you’ll see. Quality family bonding time!”

I open my mouth to retort, but suddenly there’s a clatter and a splat, and I look down to see a blob of purple yogurt dripping down my blouse. Versace. Ruined.

“Oopsie!” Lily giggles, waving her now-empty yogurt cup. “Auntie Rachel is wearing my snack!”

I close my eyes and count to three, reminding myself that this is just temporary, that I can handle a little mess and noise for the sake of my family. But as I feel the cold yogurt seeping through to my skin, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

This is a mistake , a voice warns in my head. You should be back in Chicago, focusing on your career, not playing babysitter in some backwoods cabin .

But then I remember my promise to Mom, and the wistful look in her eyes as she urged me to find something more than just work. And I think of Claire, who’s always been there for me even when I’ve been too busy to return the favor.

No , I tell myself firmly. This isn’t a mistake. This is an opportunity. A chance to reconnect with what really matters, to figure out who I am beyond just my job title.

I open my eyes and smile at Lily, who’s now happily smearing yogurt on her own face. “You know what, Lil? I think purple might just be my color after all.”

Claire laughs from the front seat, and I feel a flicker of warmth in my chest. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

“Okay girls, what should we do first when we wake up at the lake house tomorrow?” Richard asks Lily and Anna.

“Make s’mores!” Lily exclaims.

“Go swimming!” Anna counters.

They chatter on excitedly, while I try to tune it out. I clear my throat.

“So, um, Lily… how’s kindergarten going?” I ask, attempting to make conversation with my five-year-old niece.

She turns and blinks at me. “I don’t like it.” An awkward pause. “They make us do work. Writing letters and numbers. Boring.”

“Oh, uh, wow. That sounds… fun.” I force a smile.

I’m saved from further small talk when my cell phone rings. I frown at the caller ID—it’s Helen, my boss. This can’t be good.

“Sorry, I have to take this. Work emergency,” I say, relieved at the interruption. “Helen, what’s up?”

“Rachel, I have huge news,” Helen says breathlessly. “Guess who was just on the phone inviting us to pitch?”

“Don’t do this to me. Who?” I knew immediately if Helen was playing coy, it was big news. “Who?!”

“You’ve been trying to poach them for months?”

My pulse quickens. “GreenShoots?”

“Yep. They’re looking to go in a new direction. But here’s the rub—they’ve put the account up for tender. Four agencies, including us.”

A thrill runs through me, followed by steely determination. I’ve worked too hard on landing GreenShoots to lose them now. Nearly eighteen months of subtle but constant engagement, and it’s finally paid off.

“A pitch is fine; I can handle the competition. When do they need the proposal by?”

Helen exhales. “That’s the kicker. They want pitches tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” The word explodes out of me, making Richard glance back in concern. I wave him off.

“I know, I know. They’re doing it on purpose, to see how we react to pressure. They want fresh ideas, not a polished dog and pony show,” Helen explains.

My mind races, already envisioning the key messages, tactics, case studies I’ll need to wow them, jetlag be damned. I’m their woman and they need to know it.

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” I say firmly. “Text me all the pitch details, I’ll start strategizing. Tell GreenShoots they’ll have the most persuasive damn proposal they’ve ever seen, even on short notice.”

“That’s my star closer,” Helen says proudly. “I knew I could count on you.”

I hang up, adrenaline surging through my veins. This pitch could make my career. I have to win it. I have to get to Portland, fast.

But as I look up, I suddenly remember where I am—wedged in my brother-in-law’s SUV, zooming farther away from the airport with each passing mile. My stomach sinks.

What the hell am I going to do now?

I steel myself for the conversation I’m about to have. “Richard, I need you to turn the car around. I have to get to the airport.”

“What?” Claire twists around in her seat to face me, her eyebrows knitted together. “You can’t be serious! We’re literally going on vacation.”

“I know, I know.” I hold up my hands placatingly. “But this is a huge opportunity. I’ve been trying to land a huge client for over a year, and the pitch is tomorrow. I have to be there.”

“Unbelievable.” Claire shakes her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re really choosing work over family? Again?”

I wince at the accusation, but I don’t back down. “If I win this client, I’m a shoo-in for partner. It’s everything I’ve been working towards. I promise, once I close this deal, we can take a proper vacation, my treat.”

Claire scoffs and turns away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The girls have gone silent in the back, their earlier excitement fizzled out. They have no idea what we’re talking about, but they can sense it’s not good.

“Richard, please.” I lean forward, my voice urgent. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Richard meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, his expression conflicted. After a long moment, he sighs. “Alright, Rach.”

Relief floods through me, followed quickly by a pang of guilt as the girls start to whine.

“But Mom, that means it’ll take even longer to get to the lake!”

“I don’t want to spend more time in the car!”

I tune out their complaints, my mind already whirring with ideas for the pitch. This is my chance to prove myself, to show everyone at Channing Gabriel that I have what it takes to be a partner.

As Richard navigates the car through the traffic, heading back towards Chicago, I pull out my phone and start typing furiously. I have a presentation to plan, and I’ll be damned if I let this opportunity slip through my fingers.

The airport bustles with activity as I hurry through the sliding doors. I spot my assistant, Emily, near the check-in counters, her red hair a beacon amidst the crowd.

“Emily!” I call out, waving to catch her attention.

“Rachel, there you are!” She rushes over, handing me my ticket, a small carry-on, and a garment bag. “I picked out the blue suit, hope that’s ok. You’re going to crush this pitch.”

I take the items gratefully, a smile tugging at my lips. “You’re a lifesaver, Em. Truly.”

We navigate the throngs of travelers, making our way to security. As we wait in line, Emily fills me in on the latest office gossip, but my mind is already on the pitch, running through key points and anticipating potential questions. Em waves me off as I show my ticket to the TSA agent.

Once in the air, I pull out my laptop and immerse myself in the presentation, refining slides and practicing my delivery. The hours slip by, and as the plane touches down in Portland, I feel a surge of confidence. I’ve got this.

Disembarking, I reach for my suitcase in the overhead bin, my mind still running through the opening lines of my pitch. As I step onto the airbridge, a deep, mellifluous voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Excuse me, miss? I think you might have my suitcase.”

I turn to find a striking man with chiseled features and a charming smile. There are jawlines… and there’s him. He gestures to the bag in my hand, and I glance down, noticing a small red ribbon tied to the handle. Heat rises to my cheeks as I realize my mistake.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I hand him the suitcase, flustered, and he hands me mine.

His eyes sparkle with amusement. “No worries, it happens to the best of us. I take it you’re here on business?”

We fall into step, chatting easily about the trials and tribulations of corporate life. There’s an undeniable spark, and I find myself drawn to his wit and warmth.

But as we exit the airbridge, a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair rushes up to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Honey, I missed you so much!”

Reality comes crashing down, and I laugh inwardly at my foolishness. Of course, a man like him would be taken. I offer a polite nod and turn to head towards the exit, my focus shifting back to the task at hand.

And that’s when I see it. The sign that stops me dead in my tracks.

“Vacationland, welcome to the State of Maine.”

No!

This.

Is.

Not.

Happening?

My heart plummets as the realization hits me. I’m not in Portland, Oregon. I’m on the wrong side of the country.

No. No, no, no. That can’t be right. I blink hard, as if willing the sign to change. I dig into my bag, nearly ripping the zipper off as I yank out my ticket and unfold it with trembling hands. My eyes scan the fine print—Portland International Jetport (PWM).

Oh my God. PWM. Not PDX.