“No one is here to see your game face except me, so don’t worry about it for now. Just tell me what’s going on.”
She thrust her hands into her pockets, and slid her gaze away. “We stayed up late, too late, and went around in circles until words were just sounds, and had no meaning. Not my best idea when we’ve got such a busy day ahead of us.”
“So where did you leave it?”
“At a crossroads. What would you do, Clio, if you were me? To ask him to stay with me and sacrifice actual living, breathing, blue-faced, screaming babies would be the epitome of selfish on my part. And he doesn’t understand that my letting him go is being selfless. Sure, I could say, ‘Great, you’re giving in to me, perfect,’ but that’s not fair. And what if ten years down the track he hates me for it?”
What a mess. I suppose I hadn’t thought of the future, and whether he would feel robbed by not having the family he’d dreamed of. “There must be a compromise. There must be!”
She lifted a brow. “Can you tell me what that might be and then we’ll both know.”
I bit down on my lip. “I… umm… I’ll have to think on it.”
“Darling, don’t worry. Let’s get to work, yeah?” With a quick peck on my cheek, she turned on her heel, and met more musicians clutching instruments and standing wide-eyed by the entrance of the ballroom.
Click-clacking her way to them in her heels, she smiled – ever the professional. “Welcome, I’ll show you where to set up.”
I waved them off, clipboard pressed tight against my chest. Bridal expo day had well and truly arrived and with it a cast of people at the lodge, all vying to get their wares set up to display to our brides.
Through the window, snow drifted down as the orchestra started warming up, playing hauntingly beautiful Christmas carols. The wedding-dress designer caught my eye and pulled out a stunning white sheer satin gown and dressed a mannequin. The gown fell to the floor in delicate drapes, and I let out a gasp of delight as the small diamond beads twinkled under the lights. It was the kind of dress fairy tales were made of.
The florist was preparing the display of luscious bouquets and arranging them on tables. Some were seasonally themed, with white roses, pine cones and red cranberries, tied off with thick golden ribbon. My favorite was a posy of periwinkle, violet and lilac flowers, lilies, and something else I didn’t recognize. The different hues of purple were spellbinding and drew the eye.
The florist, a robust, spectacle-wearing man walked to me. “Clio, these are for you.” He handed me a bouquet of pale pink peonies.
“For me?”
He smiled and pointed to a card attached. “From a friend.”
I thanked him and he went back to arranging the centerpieces. I took the card, wondering who had sent me flowers. I tried to remember the last time anyone had, and came up blank.
Clio,
I hope the bridal expo goes off without a hitch. Have I told you yet that I’m glad you came home? Life was never really the same after you left. Looking forward to that dinner whenever you’re free.
Timothy x
Life was never really the same? But he got married and had a family about three minutes after I was out of sight! I’m sure I wasn’t on his mind one little bit. I didn’t hold any grudge or strong feeling about it – we’d been so young, really. But still, he had moved on fairly quickly and it wasn’t something I was likely to forget. Would something bloom between us if I just let go and lived for the moment? The same niggle bothered me. Kai. Even if nothing happened with him, would it be fair to date Timothy when secretly my heart beat a double rhythm when I thought of my Australian surfer yogi?
Taking my cell, I hastily sent Timothy a thank you text back, avoiding any talk about the dinner invitation.
This was why I loved work. Being busy gave me the ability to shelve any man dilemmas and focus on the task at hand. I found a crystal vase and took the bouquet to my office. That done, I went back to the ballroom and checked off my list.
Every vendor was accounted for, set up and ready to go. Isla and Micah had the activities organized. Aunt Bessie was getting her donuts out of the van and ready to serve… so what was I missing? I’d forgotten something, I could feel it.
I wandered around the tables we’d set up in different themes, lifting champagne flutes, checking for smudges. The cutlery was lined up perfectly, reflecting prisms of light from the chandeliers. Georges would serve canapés as soon as the guests…
Georges! Normally he’d be singing and bellowing in the kitchen, foodie scents wafting down the hallway making my mouth water, but I hadn’t seen him arrive yet. I dashed down the hall to check. The kitchen was empty, not a pot on the stove and, more worryingly, not a sign of Georges. Snatching up the phone I called him, picturing the worst – a car crash, the roads were slippery this time of year. My heart was in my throat by the time he answered on the third ring.
“Hi, Clio, did you get my message? I’m sorry to let you down like this, but I couldn’t say no. You understand, don’t you?”
Blood drained from my face as I checked my watch. Three hours until our brides were due and my chef was telling me he wasn’t coming. Trying to halt the erratic beat of my heart I said, “What message, Georges? Where are you?”
He groaned. “I left a message on your cell late last night.”
“Saying what, Georges? You’re supposed to be here!” I couldn’t keep the desperation from my voice.
“I was offered head chef position aboard a private cruise ship. I had to say yes, Clio. I realize the timing isn’t great…”
Just then Cruz walked into the kitchen, pointing to the coffee machine. I nodded, not sure whether he was asking permission or if I wanted a cup. My head was swimming with panic.
“Georges,” I said, trying to keep anger from bubbling up. “Please tell me you’re on your way here, and not en route to the bloody Mediterranean!”
I was met with silence. “Georges, I have a group of brides arriving in three hours, and you’re MIA. Please tell me I’m imagining this. Please.”
“Sorry, Clio. Part of the deal was that I had to leave immediately. You know how much I need this.”
It was all I could do not to scream, but I knew Georges’s catering business was floundering in Evergreen. Still, did he have to leave the day of the expo! “Where am I supposed to find a chef, Georges, with three hours’ notice!”
I could fix anything under pressure, but finding a chef in Evergreen with a three-hour deadline was a little too much, even for me.
The click-clack of Amory’s heels rang out as I tried to steady my voice. “Clio,” she hissed, “where the hell is Georges?” I pointed to the phone.
“Bessie can help,” Georges said. “And most of the canapés are made, they just need to be plated.”
I
