with the two of you before work starts.” Grandma Em motioned for Bridget to join them at the table. She didn’t live at the ranch, so her early appearance was even more unusual. “This is the only time today all three of us are free.”
Bridget put a kettle of water on the stove before sitting. Her brain didn’t fully function without the assistance of her ritual morning tea. Steeped, thank you, with boiling water poured slowly over a bag. No instant or those little pods for her.
“Are you wondering about the hayride and cookout tonight?”
“Among other things,” Molly answered. “All twelve guests have signed up. Did you finalize the menu?”
“Not quite.” Bridget grabbed a stack of guest-meal requests off the table and shuffled the papers like a deck of cards. “Our most recent newlyweds in cabin two want the zucchini, bacon and Gruyère quiche for brunch this morning. Cabin three is gluten-intolerant and cabin five is pescatarian.”
“What’s that?” Grandma Em asked.
“Eats fish and seafood but no meat.”
“Ah. Learn something new every day.”
Sweetheart Ranch boasted six cabins in total and construction was scheduled to begin in the fall on another two. Business had been booming since the ranch recently appeared in the Valentine’s Day issue of Southwest Bride magazine. According to the article, it was one of the top-ten most romantic wedding venues in Arizona.
Additional cabins weren’t the only planned expansion. Starting this week they’d added a hayride that ended with a campfire and cookout. Once they hired a full-time wrangler, they’d offer guided trail rides and a monthly “cowboy day.” The food part of the operation was also growing. In addition to wedding cakes, continental breakfasts and a specialty honeymoon brunch, light catering was now available.
That last idea had been Bridget’s. Grandma Em was owner of the ranch and head wedding coordinator. Molly assisted their grandmother and was in charge of guest relations. Bridget handled the food. Sweetheart Ranch wasn’t just a family-run business, it was truly a labor of love. In more ways than one.
I’m thinking of surf and turf,” Bridget said. “Grilled shrimp for the pescatarians and anybody else. Steak for the rest. I can easily roast ears of corn on the fire. Then side salad and rolls, both regular and gluten-free.”
“Doesn’t sound cowboyish enough,” Molly mused. “We are a Western-themed wedding ranch.”
“I’ll add beans.”
She shrugged. “I like that.”
Not pinto beans, Bridget decided as she shut off the stove and prepared her tea. She couldn’t bring herself to serve the unimaginative cowboy standby. Instead, she’d prepare Mexican charro beans with just a few poblano peppers for a touch of heat.
Grandma Em went on to talk about their upcoming weddings. April was going to be a busy month for them, as were May and, especially, June. They’d recently set a ranch record on Valentine’s Day. Eight ceremonies over a twelve-hour period. They’d be having almost as many ceremonies every Saturday in June.
Several couples had made unusual requests that required extra attention. Everything from a paralyzed groom walking with the aid of a robotic exoskeleton to the ranch’s first-ever canine ring bearer to a surprise flash-mob procession down the aisle that would be a huge surprise to the guests.
“The Literary Ladies book club requested a lunch on the sixteenth.” Grandma Em consulted her paper calendar. She was old-school.
Bridget preferred her electronic tablet and was seldom without the device. Not only did she store her recipes and research potential new menu items, but she also kept a detailed calendar and multiple lists without which she’d be a disorganized mess.
“I’m free that day. Do you know what they want?”
“They’re thinking along the line of finger sandwiches.” Grandma Em passed Bridget a piece of paper. “But I told them you’d call this week and finalize the details. Here’s the contact info.”
“This is great!” Bridget entered the name and number, her to-do list growing. She’d been considering adding wine tastings and English high teas to the ranch’s offerings. The Literary Ladies’ lunch would be a good test run.
Molly then brought up their projected reservations and several housekeeping issues, after which she distributed the first-quarter financials.
Giving the reports a cursory glance—the finances were really Molly and Grandma Em’s department—Bridget looked at the clock. Six forty-two! At this rate, she’d never get the continental breakfast served in time. Guests started wandering into the main house around seven o’clock, their stomachs growling.
She pushed back from the table and jumped to her feet. “Keep talking. I need to get busy.”
While she arranged a mouth-watering selection of homemade croissants and breads on a tray, Grandma Em and Molly continued their discussion. Ranch business soon gave way to the subject of Molly’s boyfriend, Owen. He’d asked to bring his three children along on the hayride tonight, if no one minded.
“Of course he can,” Grandma Em assured Molly. “He’s family.”
Both Grandma Em and Molly were deliriously happy. Grandma Em had eloped last November with Homer Foxworthy, a retired minister and Sweetheart Ranch’s on-staff wedding officiator. Molly was seriously dating Owen, Homer’s great-nephew. Bridget suspected her sister and Owen would one day soon be reserving the chapel for their own nuptials. Unlike their grandmother, Molly would never elope. She was a white-dress, big-splashy-wedding kind of gal.
Bridget remained the sole unattached O’Malley woman. She’d like to say she didn’t care. Truthfully, she harbored a tiny bit of jealousy toward her grandmother and younger sister. Happy for them, absolutely. They deserved the wonderful men they’d found. But Bridget also envied them. At thirty-two, her biological clock was ticking. Not fast but faster than it had been. Another birthday looming in the near future and no immediate prospects weren’t helping.
Mustang Valley was a cowboy town with a substantial male population. Though Bridget would admit it to no one, that perk was one of the reasons she’d accepted her grandmother’s job offer last year. So far, she’d yet to meet anyone with real potential.
Then again, she spent most of her time working, often putting in fifty to sixty hours a week. By the end of the day, she wanted nothing more than to unwind in front of the TV for an hour and rest her aching feet. Most nights she was in bed by nine.
Rushing back and forth between the kitchen and the parlor, Bridget quickly laid out the food. Besides the scrumptious breads and croissants, she’d included fruit salad, homemade jams and almond butter, yogurt parfaits and two choices of fresh-squeezed juices.
There! The room looked beautiful enough to appear in a TV commercial.
Wait a minute. What a great idea! She should tell Molly. Along with everything else she did, the younger O’Malley sister handled the ranch’s marketing and advertising.
“Hey,” Bridget announced as she entered the kitchen. “What if we do a TV commercial?”
She was met with complete silence.
