“Two years.” Was she not going to pick up Valerie’s comment aboutthe event?
“Right, it was the same time Justin moved to Halifax. It’s good to see you finally sticking with something. Remember when you quit that cooking class after two weeks?”
“I quit because I needed to work nights for a special event series.”
“Mmm. Get Erica those names, will you? She’s depending on you.”
When she disconnected, Valerie inhaled so deeply it oxygenated her toes. Her mother’s interest in all things Erica and, to a lesser degree, Erica’s brother, Justin, and no things Valerie was nothing new. When her parents remarried, Valerie became an afterthought on both sides. She supposed it was understandable. Her mother’s new husband had two children of his own who lived with them full-time. Valerie’s father was busy with his second wife, and when their twins were born, Valerie had made herself useful as a babysitter and collected compliments on what a good girl she was as if they were Pokémon.
Unable to help herself, she hid in the corner to compile a list of names for Erica, then hurried to place the Badgerton family photos on the tables. Valerie lingered on one of the siblings in their twenties, a candid shot as they laughed on a dock. They looked like they belonged together and she fought off a quick pulse of envy at their easy comfort. She put the photo down as Ricky came over.
“We’ve got the tea bar, coffee bar, and whiskey bar here, there, and there.” Ricky pointed at various spots in the room and raised an eyebrow. “I still can’t believe you’re having a whiskey bar at a memorial.”
“Malcolm loved a good smoky single malt,” said Valerie. “As for the quartet…”
“Over in that corner.” Alexis jabbed a confident finger and Valerie stifled a sigh. It was supposed to be under the big window, but Alexis feeling validated would make things easier in the long run.
“Sure.”
“The guest register should be near the door,” said Alexis. “That’swhat I’d do if I were you.”
The register for people to leave their memories had been hand-bound by an artisan who lived near the family cottage in the Mariposas. After signing, guests would collect booklets detailing Malcolm’s founding of the Bread Company, a beloved local bakery before it became a multimillion-dollar enterprise. Valerie had to put her foot down. “It’ll interfere with the flow if guests line up and block the entrance.”
“Oh, look atthat.” Alexis looked over Valerie’s shoulder, register forgotten, then pulled her hair up before letting it drop with a shake of her head. “Yummy. I hope he’s included in the event fee.”
“Don’t talk about people like…” Valerie’s reprimand died as she turned around. Standing in the doorway was a man backlit like a god from the heavens, so perfectly proportioned he could have stepped down from a pedestal at the Louvre.
Okay. Valerie didn’t entirely blame Alexis for her inappropriate reaction, although she hoped the poor guy hadn’t heard.
“Hi there,” called Alexis, giving a little wave. “And you are?”
“Nico Hever,” said the man—Nico—as he walked into the room. Also, there it was. Nico’s voice was the outlier that made her wonder if she was wrong about him and his lint brush. It was low and he spoke slowly, as if fully confident whatever he said was worth listening to. It was the opposite of Valerie, who rushed through her sentences to outrun the inevitable interruption. Yet there was a roughness to the edges, like he could get sort of growly if he wanted, although she couldn’t see him getting worked up over anything except a misplaced table setting.
She squinted to see him better and immediately decided the video call had not done him justice. Nor had it given her an immunity to those eyes, which held her gaze as if he was seeing only her. She bet he smelled good, but it wasn’t until he was close enough to shake her hand that she caught the faintest whiff of citrus.
“I’m pleased to meet you in person,” he said. Was he holding on amoment longer than necessary? It was probably wishful thinking.
She put herself back in professional mode, which did not involve drooling over her client’s intermediary. “I’m glad you’re here. Everything is under control, garbage cans and all.” She couldn’t help but tease him about his recent call to check the number of waste receptacles (his words).
“Good,” he said. “Guests will need a place to dispose of their debris after indulging at the high-protein, gluten-free, preservative-free, organic tapas table.”
“It’s also locally sourced.”
“I recall. Within fifty kilometers?”
“Twenty-five.”
This made him laugh for the first time ever, and she was astonished that all it took was a weak joke about hors d’oeuvres. She quickly introduced Ricky, then turned to Alexis. “This is my assistant.”
Alexis pushed forward to stand between them. “I’m more of a deputy. You can ask me for whatever assistance you require.”
Valerie was grateful that Nico didn’t react to the low purr in Alexis’s voice. He merely nodded and took the event folder Valerie handed to him.
The next hour went quickly as Valerie walked Nico through the space, Alexis hovering behind. He paused to examine the display of Malcolm’s museum-quality Malacca walking sticks.
“They’ll make an awesome photo op for guests,” enthused Alexis. “Even better than the flower wall at the nail studio.”
That was about all Valerie could take. “Alexis, would you mind grabbing some sandwiches for lunch?”
