1.1 | Prints and Pieces

04 | schijn

0 4

s c h i j n

[Dutch]: Pretence. The act of giving a false appearance.

HOW I MIGHT have expected to show up at the gathering was: bright, sharp, efficient. Ready. It had been a while Haven nabbed a deal of this magnitude. An external catering arrangement for—as I had come to find out—a more than influential crowd.

What I wouldn't have expected a week ago, however, was to show up here feeling half dead.

My morning was riddled with Gabby's pertinent questions: you sure you can handle it? Stay back and I'll have Jen come with me. Are you sure you can do this? You look sick. Stay home.

And it all ended with an abundance of yeses, and a would you please get off my back? from me.

Because I was more than certain I could do my own damn job.

It didn't matter that it had been one of those nights, or actually, one of those weeks. It didn't matter if my blue eyes were currently sunken in, and I was tired through and through because I lacked sufficient sleep.

I was good at covering up. All it took was a little bit of concealer, and a conscious effort to keep my gaze focused. It had been a week planning this already, and there would be no backing out. Shawn trusted all of us—myself included—for a smooth sail. Because, and as he put it: they're big people, so do what you have to do, and then, extra. I'll take a piss on your paychecks if there's so much as a hitch.

It was an empty threat, but still, I knew just how much the opportunity meant to him. It didn't mean Haven was doing bad exactly, but this was far from an everyday contract, and we were all more than aware of that.

The cocktail event would be taking place at Lauren's parent's home. Well, their personal grand hall to be precise. Gabby and I were currently being ushered in through the staff entrance by a tall man, as we balanced the variety of finger foods, and desserts on a couple of carts. It was all here: bruschettas, hors d'oeuvres, zucchini bites, as well as the hogs in a blanket, and the corn meal cake Lauren still fussed over.

Gabby's cart had just dessert. A carefully arranged number of key lime pies, macaroons, and lemon scones fit on the platters. It wasn't ever a one person job, but the woman had raw talent, and her skillful fingers tailored everything to perfection before we set out. It had been about four years down the road, but I secretly still loved watching her work.

She basically taught me all I knew. Especially when I was more than considered a blatant amateur crooning over recipe books, clumsy hands messily doing all the work.

"Appetizers and dessert," the man spoke up once we fully got in. I observed him scribble something down on his clipboard, before gesturing his hand to the left. "The tables are over there. Set up on the pair at the extreme right."

We both nodded and followed his directions. All the while, I absentmindedly glanced around at the large space, and I honestly couldn't help but wonder exactly how much money Lauren's family was worth.