luck with the cruise. I’m sure you’ll be great.” My words may have sounded clipped but I’m sure he understood why.
“I really am sorry, Clio. I didn’t want to leave you in the lurch.”
“I know, don’t worry about it.” I rubbed my temples. “Look, I have to go!” I just wanted to end the call and solve the chef problem.
I hung up, and turned to Amory’s pinched face. “What the hell? Where is he?”
“He’s not coming!” I said, my voice rising.
“What!” she shrieked.
“He took a job on a cruise ship and he’s already in transit. He left a message on my cell last night, he reckons, but shoot, Amory, what the hell are we going to do?”
Amory slapped her palm on the bench so hard the coffee cups rattled together. “How could he do such a thing?”
“I know… but where are we going to find someone this late?” I moaned. I pictured myself tackling the kitchen, and blanched. Why was I so hopeless in the culinary arts?
“Surely he could have left one day later!” Amory’s eyes flashed, and her raised voice carried down the hall.
Cruz coughed, clearing his throat. “Ladies, I can help, if you’re in a bind. I’m sure I can work out what Georges has done…”
Relief hit me. Hadn’t he been a chef once upon a time?
“Really? Oh, Cruz, you’re a total lifesaver!” I was ready to bow at his feet. “OK, Georges said most of the canapés are prepared. I’ll go over the menu with you, and then leave you to it?”
“Sure,” he smiled warmly, like he’d relish the challenge.
My heart beat staccato, disaster averted. But it had been another close call and my heart was feeling the damage. “Actually, Amory, could you help Cruz? There’s some brand-new chef whites in the storeroom cupboard. Maybe some of them will fit?”
She squinted at me, but stayed silent.
Cruz rolled up his sleeves. “OK, my love, show me the way.”
While I double-checked the menus, and wrote notes for Cruz, they walked away together, Amory speaking quickly about the various dishes we’d planned alongside Georges. I couldn’t help but stop and watch them for a beat. They worked so well together in a crisis, their own worries shelved.
A few minutes later they returned and we chatted about the plan, and what time service would be. Cruz looked every inch a chef with his immaculate whites on, and I couldn’t help but notice how at ease he seemed at being thrust into a last minute situation.
“OK, well, if you’re confident with all of that, Cruz, I’ll leave you to it?”
“Sure, sure,” he smiled, tying his apron strings. “I’ll be fine, Clio.”
They huddled by the fridge, heads bent, surveying the contents. If all else failed, throw them together – didn’t that always work in romantic comedies? Surely if they could solve the missing-chef dilemma, they could solve anything!
Following in the wake of Aunt Bessie’s sugary-sweet perfume, I found her chatting to the florist while she set up her donut table. The donuts were cooling in the fridge, but she had elaborate stands for them, which she placed on the beautiful linen tablecloth. When she caught my eye she excused herself and sauntered over, her hips swinging in her Dolly-esque way. “I’ve been chatting to the other vendors from town and they’re thrilled you invited them here today. And I said, well, of course you would! That you’re planning to use them whenever you can. What?” she asked. “What’s that line between your eyes for?” She rubbed the spot, as if she could erase it, making my frown deepen. I filled her in on the Georges debacle, her eyes wide with shock.
“He just upped and left?”
I nodded. “It was a requirement of the job that he start pronto.”
She let out a breath. “Well, at least you’ve got a backup. How lucky are you?”
“Very.”
“Take some deep breaths, baby girl. You’ve got this. It’s going to be a huge success, I just know it. Mom sends her apologies, she had… other things to do today.”
“Like?” Washing, cleaning, and gardening in the snow…
“Well,” Aunt Bessie bumbled along. “You know, just things. Anyway, we’ll have Christmas Day together, right? You’ll come to me this year for lunch.”
Neutral territory. We both knew Mom wouldn’t step foot on Cedarwood soil, and Aunt Bessie knew I’d probably give all of us food poisoning if I attempted to cook. “I’d love that. Our first Christmas together in six years…”
Isla and Micah waved me over.
“You’d better go,” Aunt Bessie said, pecking me on the cheek, and giving my butt a slap for good measure as I wandered away, her cackle following me. I shook my head, and laughed.
“Guys, you look great!” After working this morning, they’d dashed upstairs to change. They were helping serve today, and would then take the brides on a tour of the estate, pointing out the various activities on offer for guests. Micah was dashing in a suit and tie, and Isla was effortlessly chic in a full-length green dress with long sleeves.
Isla blushed, which brought out the freckles on her nose. “We wanted to look the part. I must say, it’s nice to wear something other than my gardening gear and workboots.”
I smiled at her and turned to Micah, who was rubbing his hands together. “Micah, I hate to ask because of your beautiful clothes, but can you light the fire in the honeymoon suite so Isla can take them for a tour before lunch?”
“Sure.” He kissed Isla’s cheek and I turned away discreetly while they did the lovey-dovey goggle-eyes. For some inexplicable reason, the wedding march played in my mind, followed closely by a vision of Isla getting ready in a suite upstairs, her mother arranging her veil, tears filling her eyes at the sight of her beautiful daughter about to marry the man of her dreams… oh, she’d make a stunning bride…
“Clio?”
“The tiara…”
“Clio?”
I blinked. Did I say that aloud? I made a mental note to research the kind of tiara that would suit Isla; something elegant, classic, not too blingy…
“Clio?”
I shook myself. “Sorry, was lost in thought about… weddings.”
She frowned. “Right, well, it’s the day for it. What should I do?”
I checked my watch. “Can you help me with the gift bags? We can set them up in the lobby to hand out before they leave.”
We worked flat out for the next couple of hours until tires crunched on the gravel out front. They were here!
“Isla, can
