Wedneday, January 30th

"Maine? He's sending me to Maine?" Incredulity hung in the air as the words escaped my lips, punctuating the end of a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. I blinked at Mr. Reynolds, my supervisor, hoping that perhaps I had misheard.

He didn't flinch, his gaze steady and unyielding. The city outside, adorned in the hues of an approaching sunset. I leaned back in my chair, the sleek skyline of Baltimore visible through the windows, suddenly feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the winter weather outside.

Mr. Reynolds, a man with a perpetual stern expression, merely nodded. His gray hair and perfectly pressed suit gave him an air of authority that was difficult to challenge.

"Yes, Sierra. Maine," he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He's acquired a factory there, and he needs you to oversee operations for the Valentine's season."

I could feel my frown deepening with each word that Mr. Reynolds uttered. My fingers tightened around the arms of my chair, a futile attempt to ground myself in the familiar plush leather. Not only is he sending me there. He's sending me, during the Valentine's season—a time of heart-shaped everything, saccharine gestures, and a pervasive sense of romance that I had long learned to avoid.

I sighed, my fingers drumming nervously on the mahogany desk. "Valentine's season? You know how I feel about Valentine's Day, right?" He knows how I feel about Valentine's Day.

Mr. Reynolds looked at me with a measured expression. "Sierra, this is a crucial assignment. The company has downsized since the acquisition, and we need someone of your caliber to ensure a successful Valentine's season for the factory. Plus he requested we send you."

I rolled my eyes. I loved working for ACE but I hated that he thinks that he can randomly give me assignments whenever he wants.

He's your boss, of course he can.

I rolled my eyes.

I couldn't argue with his assessment of my skills, but the mention of Valentine's Day made my stomach churn. The holiday had never been my cup of tea.

"Plus, if you go, it puts you on the top of the list to be promoted to Director of Communications and Strategic Marketing. I know how much you want the job." Mr. Reynolds was right. Being promoted to Director of CSM would give me the career push I needed. It also promised a much-needed increase in salary.

"When do I leave?"I found myself asking, a mix of ambition and urgency in my voice.

"Tomorrow morning. Your flight's scheduled for 6 AM. I've already taken care of your accommodations over there," he informed me, his demeanor reflecting the efficiency and decisiveness for which he was known.

"Tomorrow?" I echoed, unable to hide my disbelief. "You're not giving me much time to prepare."

Mr. Reynolds leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Sierra, this is a time-sensitive matter. The factory needs your skills, and Valentine's Day waits for no one."

The thought of being the harbinger of Valentine's cheer in a factory that had likely seen better days sent a shiver down my spine. Maine in the middle of winter—braving both the frigid temperatures and the romantic onslaught. The prospect was daunting, to say the least.

"This assignment is an opportunity for you to showcase your leadership," Mr. Reynolds continued. "Embrace it, Sierra. It will open doors for you within the company."

Nodding, I rose from my chair, the weight of the impending journey settling upon my shoulders. As I gathered my things, Mr. Reynolds added, "Your itinerary and everything you need to know are on your desk. Make sure you're well-prepared. The factory awaits."

With those words lingering in the air, I stepped out of the office into the bustling hive of cubicles and glass-walled meeting rooms. My colleagues seemed engrossed in their own worlds, unaware of the storm that had just swept through me. I glanced at my reflection in the elevator doors, my gray eyes reflecting a mix of uncertainty and determination.

When the elevator doors slid open, I stepped in. The familiar ding announced each descending floor, and with every passing level, I felt a growing sense of detachment. When the elevator neared my destination, the door opened, welcoming me to the floor where my office resided. I stepped out, my heels tapping a hurried rhythm on the tiled floor. The hum of activity surrounded me, the low murmur of conversations and the occasional ring of a phone punctuating the air. As I walked past the maze of cubicles and private offices, my mind was already formulating the initial steps for the task ahead.

My office door loomed ahead, the placard with my name gleaming in polished silver. With a deep breath, I entered, ready to absorb myself in the challenges that awaited. I sat at my desk, surrounded by the trappings of my corporate existence—filed reports, a sleek laptop, and a row of meticulously aligned pens. In the middle of it all laid my folder for my trip to Maine.

He was seriously sending me to Maine in the dead of winter. Unbelievable.

I let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the day's challenges settling on my shoulders. As I ran my hands through my hair, an attempt to alleviate some of the stress, my office door slid open with a gentle whoosh.

Megan, my best friend, stepped in with her characteristic grace. Today, she was wearing her favorite outfit– a vibrant yellow dress. The bold color contrasted strikingly against her rich, dark chocolate skin. The dress encapsulated Megan's personality perfectly: bright, confident, and effortlessly stylish. Her presence in the room, as always, felt like a burst of sunshine.

"Hey, Sierra! What's cooking?" she chirped, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the office.

I looked up, a small smile playing on my lips at the sight of Megan. She was the antithesis of corporate stoicism, her infectious enthusiasm a welcome contrast to the seriousness that often permeated these walls.

"Hey, Megan," I replied, my tone a blend of weariness and a forced smile. "Just another day in the corporate grind."

She eyed me with concern, her expressive brown eyes narrowing. "Sierra, what happened in your meeting with Mr. Reynolds?"

I hesitated, debating whether to divulge the details of the unexpected assignment. Megan and I shared a friendship that extended beyond the confines of our professional roles, so her genuine concern demanded a response but there was something about this assignment that made me hesitant to share the news with her.

Megan's eyes widened with impatience. "Spill the beans, Sierra! What's going on?"

"Valentine's Day happened," I said, the words carrying a weight that only someone with a deep aversion to the holiday could understand.

Megan's eyes widened in comprehension. "You're still not a fan, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, the weariness momentarily lifted by Megan's straightforwardness. "Understatement of the year."

"So what about Valentine's day is making you so sad. We still have a few more weeks for that."

I took a deep breath, deciding to keep it brief. "I've been assigned to help a chocolate factory he's acquired in Maine for the Valentine's season I leave tomorrow."

"Maine? Tomorrow." Megan exclaimed. "That's sudden,"

"Tell me about it." I rolled my eyes.

Megan let out a sympathetic sigh. "Well, look at the bright side. It's just for a few weeks right, right? Ensure everything goes well, and you'll be back home before you know it."

I nodded, appreciating Megan's attempt to lighten the mood. "That's the plan."

"Look at it this way," Megan grinned, "It's a chocolate factory. It's not gonna be too hard to market chocolates. Everyone loves chocolate. You'll be around chocolate. That's every kid's dream. Hell, that's my dream!"

I chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Well, that doesn't do bad.."

Megan nudged me playfully, her optimism infectious. "Who knows, you might even find a valentine in the process."

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "In a town where everyone probably knows everyone else's middle name? Highly unlikely. Plus I'm not looking for anyone. You know this"

Megan laughed, undeterred. "Well, stranger things have happened. You've got this, Sierra!"

As Megan left my office, her vibrant energy lingering in the air. I found myself smiling. Megan and I have been friends for seven years. We met at UMD and we hit it off immediately. She was a DC girl and I was from Laurel, living in College Park but we both had so much in common. We were both studying Business, with her specializing in accounting and me, marketing. When we finished UMD we both started searching for jobs. My mother suggested we send our resume to ACE. Although I didn't want to work for him, I was desperate. I need the money to pay for my rent and buy food.

After working at ACE for a few months I was able to move to Baltimore so I wouldn't have to commute every day. Megan still lived in DC. She didn't mind driving from DC to Baltimore and back everyday. To me, it was ludicrous.

I reached for the folder that had been left conspicuously on my desk, its presence a silent command for my attention. With a sense of resignation mixed with a tinge of curiosity, I flipped it open. The first page greeted me with bold, unassuming text: "Chevalier Chocolate Factory - Located in Linstead, Maine. Current CEO: Christopher Chevalier, since 1989."

The document detailed the various aspects of the factory and about the town of Linstead. The pages were filled with a mix of technical specifics and intriguing historical anecdotes. It wasn't boring but I just wasn't ready to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to Maine and I only had a few hours to prepare for it.

"Linstead, Maine... Here I come!"

.......................

Thank you for reading my new book. The entire book is available on Amazon.  I'd love to gift 10 ebook copies to anyone who is interested. However, you must have an Amazon and be in the US. I'd also love to receive some feedback (What you liked, what you didn't like, how I can improve) on the book from anyone to whom it's gifted. Please let me know if you're interested.