“As well as the speed at which the food is going down their gullets.” He looked pleased. “Don’t you just love Sissy?”
Holly did not love Sissy, but she did love the sudden turn of mood. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
The end came after dessert, from which key lime pie was unanimously voted the winner. Holly elbowed him playfully. “How about that?”
“Well, she can’t be perfect,” Linus said, as Sissy stabbed the last forkful and popped it in her mouth.
Holding her breath, Holly rejoined the Suttons. This was it.
“I must say,” Mr. Sutton said, pushing back his chair and exhaling, “the food was unexpected.”
“Oh?” Holly was afraid to ask, unexpectedlygoodorbad?
“We loved all of it!” Sissy declared, gesturing with her hands. “And I don’t even like clams.”
Holly threw Linus a look, but he’d already ducked out at the wordclams.
“The problem is we don’t know which two dishes to choose,” Mrs. Sutton added, fanning herself with a napkin. Holly couldn’t help but notice a drop of butter grease on the front of her crisp white blouse. “I leave it up to Sissy. It’s her rehearsal dinner.” Everyone turned to the bride.
Sissy sighed. “I don’t know. Harold should be here. He’s so much better at making decisions.” She looked at Holly. “Maybe he can come taste everything later this week?”
Holly did not point out that Haroldhadmade his decision by choosing golf, but bit her tongue. There was no way she was going to offer another tasting if and when he did drag himself off the course. “With your rehearsal dinner next weekend, I think it would be best to narrow down your menu sooner than later.”
“What about this idea?” Mr. Sutton ventured. “Offer all of it. That way our guests can make their own selections.”
“You mean a buffet?” The Suttons had originally rebuked the mere suggestion of it.
This is a formal wedding weekend. Service must be plated, Sissy had stated in her last email.
“A buffet,” Sissy mused.
“I loathe that word,” Mrs. Sutton said, “but I’d hate to deny our family any of these dishes.”
“Buffet it is,” Mr. Sutton decided, tossing his napkin on the table and standing. “Now we must meet that chef.”
“Of course,” Holly began. “I’ll ask her to come out.”
But Mr. Sutton was already halfway to the door. “I must see this kitchen.”
Like children hearing the bell ring for recess, Sissy and her mother leapt up and followed. Linus trailed like a teacher trying to regain control.
“Is this it?” Mr. Sutton barked, halting outside the swinging door in the lobby. Without waiting, he barged in before Holly could catch up. Poor Greta had no idea what was coming.
Greta, who was in the middle of wiping down her butcher block island, looked up in surprise.
“Are you the chef?” Mr. Sutton asked.
Her eyes darted between the Suttons and Holly.
“I am. Greta Nyqvist,” she said, setting down her towel warily.
Mr. Sutton reached across the island for Greta’s hand and began shaking it vigorously. “With my business travels, I eat all over the world. But that was the best damn food I’ve had in ages.”
“Why, thank you,” Greta said, her face lighting up.
“You’re one hell of a cook.”
Holly did not saychef, nor did she follow Mr. Sutton out as he pushed through the swinging door. “Let’s take anotherlook at that firepit,” was the last thing she heard him say. Sissy, however, lingered.
