9:24 AM
To: Miller, Trey
Re: Re: Venue Notes - Ivy Glen
Mr. Miller,
I agree about other locations, and I am contacting
the other places to see what they have available. Please let me know when you
have some time so I can show you a few of the places I have in mind. I agree
that Ivy Glen is out of the way, but I believe it may be our best option for
space, and that is one of the few places that allow you to bring your own
vendors. I will check to see what other locations, central to the downtown
area, will allow this as well.
Regards,
Emogen Kane
Event Planner
Elle E. Grant Events
I press send and start looking for the
venues that have proven to be sure things in the past. Elle tends to go for the
popular locations, but I believe there is an untapped market when going to the
outskirts of town. As someone who has only lived here a short time, I tend to
gravitate to the places that I hear about from other people. These people don’t
live, work and play in the downtown area; they’re transplants, like me.
Since Tuesday mornings at work are pretty
low-key, we spend most of our time on the phone confirming dates and times, or
sending emails to clients about what we need to proceed. The most hectic day is
definitely Thursday, because, as planners, we run all over the place to pick up
any last-minute items to make sure the events run smooth. I’m at an advantage
because I have one client to focus on, where Cam, Elle and the others have the
experience to handle multiple clients at once. I guess that’s a backhanded
advantage, because Elle is still testing me to see what I’m capable of.
I pick up my phone to call The Parlor,
another venue I think will appeal to T.M. Enterprise’s clientele, but I don’t
have a chance to make that call. I can hear someone on the other end. “Hello? I
mean, Elle E. Grant Events, this is Emogen Kane.”
“Emogen,” a male voice repeats, and I
know that it’s Mr . Miller. “This is Trey.”
“Good morning,” I respond. “What can I do
for you?”
“I just got your email, and I wanted to
see if you could meet for lunch. I have a few questions about the venues you
have in mind, but I’m running to a meeting in a few minutes.”
“If you’d like, I can email you the
places I have along with some details. I know you’re busy,” I acknowledge,
hoping that I don’t have to have lunch with Trey, Mr. Miller.
“No, that’s okay,” he sounds distracted.
“Just bring it with you. I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty. Will that be okay?”
I glance at my calendar, hoping there is
something to keep me from being alone with him again. But there is nothing, and
I hope the defeat I feel isn’t evident in my tone. “No, that will be fine, Mr.
Miller.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” he says. “And
Emogen? It’s Trey.”
He hangs up, leaving me feeling as though
I may have just fucked up. He sounded more irritated than pissed, but then
again, he probably hates being called ‘mister’ as much as I hate someone my age
responding with a ‘yes ma’am’ to me.
For the next two hours, I gather as much
information as possible to share with Trey. I have choices for vendors,
caterers, entertainers and florists to discuss with him, so there won’t be a
lull in our meeting. I should have insisted on meeting him someplace, yet here
I am, waiting at my desk like a sixteen-year-old waiting for her date to show
up.
Callie, our receptionist, buzzes me.
“Emogen, Mr. Miller is here for you.”
“Thank you, Callie. I’ll be right there.”
I let go of the button and grab my files to stuff them into my oversized
leather bag.
When I make my way to the front desk and
see Trey, all of my senses go out the window. Ryan who? No, I shake my head. I
love Ryan. I love Ryan. I repeat this with every step I take toward a grinning
Trey Miller.
“I’m sorry I’m early,” he says, reaching
for my bag. I pull the strap a little closer to my body, as if it has the
ability to save me from my
To: Miller, Trey
Re: Re: Venue Notes - Ivy Glen
Mr. Miller,
I agree about other locations, and I am contacting
the other places to see what they have available. Please let me know when you
have some time so I can show you a few of the places I have in mind. I agree
that Ivy Glen is out of the way, but I believe it may be our best option for
space, and that is one of the few places that allow you to bring your own
vendors. I will check to see what other locations, central to the downtown
area, will allow this as well.
Regards,
Emogen Kane
Event Planner
Elle E. Grant Events
I press send and start looking for the
venues that have proven to be sure things in the past. Elle tends to go for the
popular locations, but I believe there is an untapped market when going to the
outskirts of town. As someone who has only lived here a short time, I tend to
gravitate to the places that I hear about from other people. These people don’t
live, work and play in the downtown area; they’re transplants, like me.
Since Tuesday mornings at work are pretty
low-key, we spend most of our time on the phone confirming dates and times, or
sending emails to clients about what we need to proceed. The most hectic day is
definitely Thursday, because, as planners, we run all over the place to pick up
any last-minute items to make sure the events run smooth. I’m at an advantage
because I have one client to focus on, where Cam, Elle and the others have the
experience to handle multiple clients at once. I guess that’s a backhanded
advantage, because Elle is still testing me to see what I’m capable of.
I pick up my phone to call The Parlor,
another venue I think will appeal to T.M. Enterprise’s clientele, but I don’t
have a chance to make that call. I can hear someone on the other end. “Hello? I
mean, Elle E. Grant Events, this is Emogen Kane.”
“Emogen,” a male voice repeats, and I
know that it’s Mr . Miller. “This is Trey.”
“Good morning,” I respond. “What can I do
for you?”
“I just got your email, and I wanted to
see if you could meet for lunch. I have a few questions about the venues you
have in mind, but I’m running to a meeting in a few minutes.”
“If you’d like, I can email you the
places I have along with some details. I know you’re busy,” I acknowledge,
hoping that I don’t have to have lunch with Trey, Mr. Miller.
“No, that’s okay,” he sounds distracted.
“Just bring it with you. I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty. Will that be okay?”
I glance at my calendar, hoping there is
something to keep me from being alone with him again. But there is nothing, and
I hope the defeat I feel isn’t evident in my tone. “No, that will be fine, Mr.
Miller.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” he says. “And
Emogen? It’s Trey.”
He hangs up, leaving me feeling as though
I may have just fucked up. He sounded more irritated than pissed, but then
again, he probably hates being called ‘mister’ as much as I hate someone my age
responding with a ‘yes ma’am’ to me.
For the next two hours, I gather as much
information as possible to share with Trey. I have choices for vendors,
caterers, entertainers and florists to discuss with him, so there won’t be a
lull in our meeting. I should have insisted on meeting him someplace, yet here
I am, waiting at my desk like a sixteen-year-old waiting for her date to show
up.
Callie, our receptionist, buzzes me.
“Emogen, Mr. Miller is here for you.”
“Thank you, Callie. I’ll be right there.”
I let go of the button and grab my files to stuff them into my oversized
leather bag.
When I make my way to the front desk and
see Trey, all of my senses go out the window. Ryan who? No, I shake my head. I
love Ryan. I love Ryan. I repeat this with every step I take toward a grinning
Trey Miller.
“I’m sorry I’m early,” he says, reaching
for my bag. I pull the strap a little closer to my body, as if it has the
ability to save me from my
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