At noon, I met with Frankie Lawson of Sun Valley Lodge and gave her the bad news that Sylvia’s wedding had been cancelled.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she changed her mind tomorrow,” Frankie said. “She’s so dramatic, she’s probably doing it to get attention.”
“She seemed pretty serious.” Then I thought about the way Sylvia had taken off her ring and carefully tucked it into her purse. Frankie could be right.
Frankie flicked off an invisible speck of dust from the cuff of her black business suit. “I’ll call Mrs. Rockfort and see if she would like me to hold the date. It might be interesting to get her reaction.”
“You’re a saint. I purposely have not called her yet.” That woman had me on a pathway to an ulcer. Delegation was something I had perfected in my contacts with her. “I need your
