The financial setback would only cost him a few more months of my involvement before Dean bought back his entire company.
“Have HR make the arrangement, please.”
Dean turned. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because there is still a policy, Scott. I meant if you wanted to cut her a check, it needs to be under something else. Like…additional gratuities from the last event she planned.”
I deadpanned him.
“Okay, maybe not the last one she planned.”
I shook my head. My heart broke for Elle having to live with the reputation of screwing up the years biggest event. Because she had done an incredible job. It was too bad no one else believed it. She was right. No matter how hard you plan, how meticulous you are, things will always go wrong. And people will only focus on the screw ups.
In her case, it was a missed cue, one that she shouldn’t have been responsible for in the first place.
One that she was more than prepared for.
One that I was largely to blame.
“So what are our options?”
Dean walked over, opening up his checkbook and writing out a figure. “Split this with me?”
I looked at the figure that was a fairly large bonus, but not too much for it to be suspiciously too generous. “I’ll cover the whole thing. Just sign it.”
Dean smirked and signed the check.
“Alright, I’ll have this delivered in a few days, when she’s back.”
“What do you mean? Why not send it now?”
“I spoke to Elle yesterday, she’s out of town. She won’t be home to sign for it.”
“Where’d she go?”
Dean shrugged and headed for the door. “I didn’t ask, figured she was visiting family for the holidays.”
“That’s unlikely,” I muttered as he walked out of my office.
Two days before Christmas Eve, I met Ron at the hotel for a quick breakfast before rushing back to my office to work on…anything. I’d avoided working out of my home for the past week since all it did was remind me of all the nights we’d spent together there.
Ron was late which was strange. The man was never late except when trying to be a father.
I finished off my first cup of coffee when Ron finally showed up and dropped a heavy folder on the white tablecloth.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Your Christmas present.” Ron nodded at the thick stack. “Sorry it’s not wrapped.”
I hesitated, then reached for the folder, scanning its contents and frowned. “Still not clear on what this is and why you’re giving it to me.”
“You’ve been asking me for my plans, policies, and everything that one might need to know about how Brightman Events operated; well, here it is. All of it.”
“Why now?”
“Because you’re going to need all the help you can get. It’s a tough business. Especially with Starr Howard leaving.”
