When it was finally time for Mason's next gig at the Lakeside Daisy, I had the perfect plan in place to get his attention. Instead of being out and about waiting on tables like I always was, I'd be handling financial details in Lydia's old office, and he'd be so curious where I was that he would have to come find me.

Brilliant. I may not have been the prettiest girl in the universe with my average straight brown hair and simple eye makeup, but I could be smart when I wanted to be.

Mason never did return my call about Lydia, but that was okay. I was about to show him that I was just as capable as the late woman he clearly was so devastated about.

What was more impressive than being important?

I did pretty good for myself in terms of earning tips, but any money I made from helping out George with ironing out the details to keep the big picture up and running in his late wife's honor was different. It was steady.

Maybe that was what everyone liked about having a real adult income. Hm.

Even so, that shit wasn't for me.

"Marigold?" a male voice said from around the office door corner. I win! "Marigold?"

Mason locked eyes with me as I sat in the spinny office chair, but he didn't say anything else right off the bat.

I smiled and fiddled with the pen in my hands. "Good afternoon."

"What are you doing in here?" he asked. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I am."

He hesitated for a moment, head tilted and eyes squinted, then replied, "No, you're not."

What was he talking about? I was sitting in an office holding a pen. It didn't get any more productive than that.

I tilted my chin up to tell him that I was, indeed, working, when Ashley poked her head into the office too, then turned to Mason. "Didn't she tell you? She's the most important person in the world now."

Mason nodded. "I see."

With the damage done, Ashley returned to work, which left just Mason and me once again. I bit my cheek. It sounded way less impressive when Ashley did the explaining for me.

"So when did this happen?" Mason asked. "You know, you helping out—" he hesitated as he struggled to find a name.

"George?"

Mason nodded. "Yeah, him. Since when are you helping him out with keeping this place running?"

"Since a few days ago. I'm really not sure what I'm doing yet, but he seems to think I'm helping, and that's all I can do, really."

"So you control the finances now?"

I giggled. "I don't control anything, so don't ask me for more money. I can't do that. Well, yet, at least."

He smiled. "And how long is this arrangement going to last?"

"As long as I'm needed, I guess. But don't worry. I'll do my actual job once the evening traffic starts flowing in, so no one is going to get screwed over."

"I don't care about that. I just play the piano," he said, and with those words, he headed back out to do his job.

I smiled to myself. There wasn't a lot of noise coming from outside without much of a crowd, but I still shut the door so I could focus. I probably wasn't going to get a lot of work done, but how was that different than any other office job?

"Oh, and Marigold?" Mason opened the door just as I had gotten comfortable in my seat again.

I looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Ashley's yelling at someone who wants to speak to the manager."

I blinked a couple times. How was that my problem? "That sounds about right."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Me?" I wasn't a manager. I just had an office and a spinny chair. "Oh, shit. I'm supposed to be in charge when George isn't here."

Mason nodded. "Uh, yeah."

"Well, if Ashley's mad, she probably has a reason. Customers suck," I said.

Mason gave me the same confused look as when he first spotted me in the office, then turned around and shut the door behind him.

If an actual manager wanted to deal with that, they could. I was just a lowly temporary office-dweller anyway.

***

Some people were more difficult to read than others. Mason, on one hand, was one of the most challenging human puzzles I had ever met. There was a lot going on in his mind, and he wouldn't let me anywhere near close enough to figure out what it was. But I didn't mind being challenged.

Blake, on the other hand, let me know exactly what he was thinking before I even thought about asking him.

"You're wasting your time trying to get his attention, MG," Blake said after I told him all about my plot to get Mason to notice my new responsibilities. "If he cared at all, he'd act like it."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't understand straight people's problems, Blake. It's so much more difficult to navigate the talking stage when it's a girl and a guy."

Blake burst out laughing. "You're not serious, are you? That might be the dumbest thing you've ever said to me in the ten years I've known you."

"What? It's true. We're on completely different wavelengths, but when it's two guys, the wavelengths are much more similar—"

Blake interrupted me. "Shut the hell up, MG. You don't know what you're talking about."

That was probably true, and it was pretty much par for the course for me.

I let out a sigh. Even when Blake had a million mean things to say about just about everything, he usually had a point.

I paused at that thought. Only usually.

That meant that there was also a chance that he was wrong, and that was what I had to hold on to if I wanted a chance at seeing that red sailboat that I still didn't know was Mason's.

If he came from money, though, I assumed he would have been more impressed by my new temporary job. But he also wasn't the most expressive guy out there, so I didn't have to worry quite yet.

As he walked away, I couldn't help but think that I failed to impress two people with my brilliance that day. But there was always Alex, and she was usually more supportive of me than Blake was.

I knocked on her bedroom door, and although it was getting a little late, she grumbled a what through the closed door.

Not the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but it was permission nonetheless.

"Do you think I'm wasting my time with Mason?" I asked.

"Do you want the short answer or the long one?"

"Short is fine. You seem tired."

"Then yes," she said. "You're definitely wasting your time, his time, my time, everyone's time."

I bit my cheek. She didn't know what she was talking about any more than I did, but I said thank you anyway and turned to leave her alone for the night.

"Marigold?" Alex piped up just in time for me to hear her.

"Yeah?"

"You're too pretty and too smart for this nonsense," she said.

I smiled. "Well, thank you. That means a lot coming from you."

It certainly wasn't true, but a little white lie never killed anyone. It was only a mild disappointment in the grand scheme of things.

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Hello friend! Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate your support on this book. It means so much more to me than you think.

So for today's question, which is worse: being too hot or being too cold?

For me, a native Northeast Ohioan in the USA, it is so much worse being hot. We deal with warm summers and cold winters here (and everything in between, honestly--American weather is an absolute trip), and I cannot stand it when I'm too warm. If you're too cold, you can add more layers or cuddle under a blanket, but if you're too hot? All you can do about it is cry. So I'm certainly looking forward to summertime! *insert clown emoji here*