Chapter 168

When Amy wasn’t sitting on our bench again the following morning, I went looking for her.

I walked down the front of the building, checking for her in each group of students standing around, talking and laughing as they prepared themselves for the school day.

Next, I went inside and checked the cafeteria and the library. When I had no luck in either place, I went to her locker. But she wasn’t there either.

I found her sitting in her homeroom with her head on the desk, cradled in her arms.

I wanted to go into the room and talk to her, but the teacher was there, and he didn’t tolerate students talking in his classroom unless he called upon them.

It was the perfect place for Amy to avoid talking to me.

Still, I wasn’t going to give up. I knew enough about Amy’s school day to find a place to talk to her.

Amy beat me to math class, and the teacher scolded me when I didn’t take my seat immediately. But I was ready after the bell rang, and I followed her out the door, through the hallway, and into the ladies’ room.

I waited until she came out of a stall and approached her as she washed her hands.

I saw her stiffen when she saw my face in the mirror above the sink.

“Amy, I just want to ask you if the charity can still use your progressive dinner idea,” I said. “It’s such a good idea. I hate to see it go to waste.”

She rinsed her hands and reached for a paper towel. She wouldn’t look at me, but in the mirror, I saw her eyes were brimming with tears.

“I don’t care what you or your company does,” she said. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

I froze, feeling like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. “I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry, Amy. Please forgive me.”

She shook her head before running from the room, leaving me clutching the sink as I tried to breathe.

I staggered into a stall and sat on the toilet, and sobbed silently into my hands. Werewolf History Class had started, but I didn’t care.

I texted Joe and asked him to pick me up now. There was no way I could sit in a classroom anymore today.

After telling the school secretary I was sick, I signed out and waited at the gate for the limousine to appear.

School would never be the same again without Amy’s friendship. Thankfully, I would soon graduate, but I would miss my best friend forever.

I stood waiting for my ride to the office with the sun shining on my face and listening to the birds sing sweetly in the trees, but I couldn’t take joy in any of it.

The look of misery on Amy’s face haunted me. I was responsible for it. If I hadn’t left her alone at the party, I could have shut down the Myers sisters at the first sign of their prejudice against Amy.

I wanted to do something to punish them for what they did, but hurting them wouldn’t make things better between me and Amy.

Joe pulled the car in front of me, and I climbed inside before he could get out of the vehicle.

The partition between the front and back seats slid down. “Is everything alright, Miss Wilson?”

“Yes, Joe,” I replied. “Please take me to the office. I have more work today than I thought.”

“Very good, Miss,” he said, and the partition slid up into place.

During the ride to the office, the memory of Amy’s face before she ran from the bathroom, flashed through my mind.

I was tempted to call Richard Myers and tell him Wilson, Inc. wouldn’t do any business with him until his daughters publicly apologized to Amy.

But that seemed like I would be wasting a lot of energy on being vengeful. The girls were being punished by their father and the Fosters.

That needed to be enough.

When Joe pulled in front of Alex’s building, I thanked him and ran inside.

Arriving at my office, I closed the door and looked out the window at the view Amy loved so much. She wouldn’t waste her time getting revenge.

Instead of doing something terrible to the Myers sisters, I needed to do something good for the Betas.

Using Amy’s idea to raise more money for them would help ease my conscience a little over what happened to her.

The progressive dinner was happening as soon as possible!

I texted Debbie and asked her to come to my office.

When she arrived, I told her of my decision. She was pleased, and we dove into the planning of the event.

“We need five restaurants willing to provide the different courses at cost to them.” Debbie tapped a pen on her notepad.

“And the restaurants should be special,” I added. I wanted to make this event exceptional.

“I agree,” Debbie said. My enthusiasm was mirrored in her voice. “Let’s try to get Gilded to do the first course: cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”

“Great idea,” I said. “What do you think about asking Moonglow to provide the appetizers?”

“That’s an excellent choice,” Debbie agreed as she wrote on her notepad. “Moonglow is a wonderful place.”

“How can we make the salad course stand out?” I mused. “What restaurants are known for their salads?”

“What about From the Garden?” Debbie suggested. “They grow their own veggies on the roof and serve them fresh in customized salads with twenty different homemade dressings.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said. Why had I never heard of the place?

“The entrees should be served somewhere spectacular,” Debbie said.

I opened a desk drawer and pulled out a magazine, and handed it to Debbie. “This is a new place I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Downstream. I’ve heard of it,” she said as she reviewed the article.

“Diners lineup at a long U-shaped counter with water flowing in front of them,” I explained. “Different entrees float past them in the water on small trays, and the diners choose which entree they want and place it in front of them.”

“That sounds interesting,” Debbie said. “I’d love to try it. But is the food good?”

“The magazine’s food critic gave it five stars,” I replied.

“I’ll put them on the list,” Debbie said. “Now, all that’s left is the dessert course.”

I have an idea for that, too,” I told her. “My friend William told me about a place called The Chocolate Factory.”

“I have been there!” Debbie laughed. “It’s in an old candy factory. Everything is chocolate themed. They even have chocolate fountains. And I have never tasted better chocolate soufflé.”

“Let’s put them on the list,” I said. “If you get me the phone numbers, I’ll call the owners of the restaurants myself.”

“That would ensure their cooperation better than if I called them,” Debbie said. “I’ll have the numbers for you as soon as I return to my desk.”

“Email them to me,” I said. “I’ll let you know when I get their responses.”

Debbie went back to her office, and I soon received an email with the phone numbers for the restaurants. I got busy making the calls.

I was ecstatic when all five restaurants wanted to participate in the progressive dinner.

They agreed to charge us what the ingredients would cost them in return for the advertising of their businesses.

I called Debbie to let her know.

“We should sell tickets that can be stamped at each location,” she suggested.

“How much should we charge per ticket?” I asked.

“It’s such a unique event being held at wonderful locations. With some hype and good press, we should be able to charge five thousand dollars apiece,” Debbie said.

“The number of tickets will be limited,” I said. “The restaurants only hold about a hundred people at a time. I requested two seatings at each restaurant.”

“I’ll have two hundred tickets printed,” Debbie said. “The fact that there won’t be enough for every Alpha in the area will make them want to attend even more.”

I counted on my fingers. “That sounds good, but save at least six tickets for me,” I said.

“Will do,” Debbie chirped. “I’ll send you a mock-up of the tickets before I send it to the printer.”

We hung up, and I counted on my fingers again the people I wanted to have tickets.

Six tickets were enough for Alex, Victor, William, me, Amy, and Mr. Gray. It was Amy’s idea. She should be there to see how wonderful it’s going to be.

I would take the tickets to Mr. Gray’s restaurant.