What—”
JoAnna swept the air between us. “Forget that. This is your night. Are you ready?”
“I’m scared to death, quite frankly,” I whispered back.
“Enjoy the moment no matter what it brings.”
And that is why I loved my secretary. She had a way of cutting through the background noise to get to the part that matters—at work, in life, in love.
I felt Andy’s hand encase mine a split second before Grandpa Stu winked at me and Sam and Mary Fran flashed a dual thumbs-up. Swinging my gaze to the left, I met Carter’s proud glance with what I hoped was a thankful one on my part. I was blessed and I knew that. No matter what happened in the next ten minutes, I had what mattered more than any award could ever mean.
“To present the Golden Storyboard, for this year’s Best Overall Ad Campaign, is last year’s winner, Cassie Turner, from the Ross Jackson Agency. Cassie?”
The model-thin advertising executive strolled onto the stage in a gold floor length dress that hugged her curves like a second skin. Her trademark blond locks hung down her back and across her shoulders in such glorious ringlets that even Carter had to sigh. But I didn’t care about any of that. My focus, my heart-pounding attention was fixed on the plain white envelope in Cassie’s bejeweled hand as she fairly glided into place behind the podium.
“Well, well, well, we meet again,” Cassie said around a dazzling smile of bleached teeth. “Only this time, and rather surprisingly I might add, I will remain at the bottom of the staircase”—as if on cue, the red velvet curtain beside the podium parted to reveal the famed spiral staircase, as well as the platform and screen it led to at the top—“while this year’s winner carries his or her Golden Storyboard to the top.”
I looked down at the napkin in my lap and then back up at the stage, my face warm from my tablemates’ renewed and not so subtle attention.
“So, without further ado, I present to you the nominees for this year’s Best Overall Ad Campaign.
“Ben Gibbens of The Beckler and Stanley Agency for the creativity that was this year’s St. Louis and You campaign for the St. Louis Tourism Commission.
“Deidre Ryan, of The Whitestone Agency for the creativity that was this year’s Books Can Take You Places campaign for the St. Louis Public Library System.
“Lexa Smyth of The Callahan Agency for the creativity that was this year’s Get Moving with MetroLink Campaign.”
Andy brought his lips within a few centimeters of my ear. “I didn’t know you were up against someone from the founder’s agency.”
“I am. But it’s okay. Really. It’s an honor to be nominated—”
“Get Moving with MetroLink? I remember that one,” Ms. Rapple whisper-gushed from the other side of my grandfather. “Best commercial I’ve seen in years.”
I started to look at Carter for the commiserating eye roll I knew I’d find, but then Cassie moved on to the fourth and final nominee—me.
“And Tobi Tobias of The Tobias Agency for the creativity that was New Town’s Where Vacation and Life Become One campaign.”
Like a robot, I started to applaud just like I had for the first three names, but stopped when JoAnna’s hand reached out and stilled mine. “This is your moment, Tobi. Savor it.”
And savor it I did. I savored the applause from the tables around me, the smiles from my loved ones, and the sweet kiss on my temple from Andy.
Yes, it was official. I would never, ever forget this moment for as long as I lived.
“And now, I present to you, the winner of this year’s Golden Storyboard for Best Overall Ad Campaign—Deidre Ryan!”
A gasp from the front center of the room was followed, a half second later, by a squeal from the vicinity of Deidre’s table, and, finally, the thunderous applause of the crowd that drowned out all but the sound of my own heart beating inside my chest. I felt Andy’s squeeze on my hand, and JoAnna’s breath on my ear as she said something I assume was sweet and supportive, but all I could do at that moment was stare with utter fascination as Deidre ran onto the stage, accepted her award from Cassie, and made her way up the spiral staircase to the platform at the top, her face a mixture of stunned surprise and little-girl joy.
I knew, on some level, I was supposed to feel bad—disappointed that it wasn’t me standing on that platform, staring down at the Golden Storyboard like it was the Holy Grail. But I didn’t. I was actually happy for the diminutive brunette I’d met a half dozen times over the past few years—a quiet, unassuming woman who’d likely dreamed of this moment as often as I had.
The applause continued as a smaller red curtain, positioned behind the platform, opened to reveal the screen tasked with sharing Deidre’s campaign with the audience. But just as the shot of the man and his little boy—decked out in Cardinals gear—appeared on the screen, I darted my attention back to Deidre, my confusion mingling with hers a split second before the platform she was standing on gave way, and she, and the stage lights above her, fell to the ground with a deafening thud.
~Chapter Three~
I tried to focus on the Yay-Us party JoAnna had graciously orchestrated for Sam and me at the agency immediately following the awards show, but it was hard. I understood her rationale in going ahead with the soirée despite the horror we’d all witnessed, but still, every time I tried to lose myself in conversation with one of my friends, I heard the sound of Deidre’s body hitting the stage and the delayed, yet no less bloodcurdling screams that had followed.
I knew I wasn’t the only one who kept traveling back to that horrific moment, but I also knew everyone—myself, included—was trying really hard to keep things light for Sam. After all, winning an industry award at any age was exciting, but to win one as a newly turned sixteen-year-old was something else entirely. Yet the fact that Grandpa Stu had disengaged himself from Ms. Rapple’s flappy (ewww) arms and was heading in my direction with worried eyes, was a pretty good indication my efforts at being upbeat and cheerful were falling short.
“Have I told you how much you look like your grandmother this evening?” Grandpa Stu pulled me in for a sidearm hug and a kiss on my temple. “With your hair all curled and framing your face the way it is, it’s like I’m thirty all over again, too.”
I captured his hand in mine and held it close to my cheek, the rasp in his voice a tribute to the love he’d shared with my grandmother—a love that had spawned my mom and, eventually, my brother, my sister, and me. “I miss her, too, Grandpa Stu.”
“I know you do.” He gestured toward the table of treats JoAnna had erected against the back wall in the conference room and, at my nod, tugged me over to the plate of Napoleons I was sure he’d already sampled a few times over the past hour or so. “So you doing okay, Sugar Lump?”
I took the dessert plate he held out to me and tried to focus on the plethora of options JoAnna had obviously been slaving over in the hours leading up to the award show—cookies, brownies, individual tarts, cupcakes, and the aforementioned Napoleons. My eyes knew everything looked amazing. Heck, even my hands were itching to start piling one of everything onto my plate. But my stomach was a different story. Instead of the feed-me rumbles that usually accompanied any and all sugar-related
