Nico had heard this complaint several times since the decision had been made two weeks ago, and he stuck to the party line. “Roger agreed this was more suited to Malcolm’s personality,” he said as he watched Alexis berate a member of the catering staff for apparently asking a question. “He hated rubber chicken dinners.”
“As if I would allow chicken at Dad’s memorial when capon and pheasant exist. A quail would do. Duck at a stretch, although the quality has plummeted since every taco restaurant in the city put it on their menu.”
“There’s a smoked duck canapé on the grazing board,” he said to be difficult.
“Grazing boards, my God.”
Nico fell back on his usual method of dealing with Penny: agreeing she was right. “I understand,” he said as he watched Alexis move a table away from its proper spot to where it would block access to the entrance. It hadn’t taken Nico long to realize she was the embodiment of the Dunning-Krueger effect and would require monitoring.
“You might as well serve those jalapeño poppers from the grocery store.”
“I hear you.” There was no point telling Penny it was too late to make changes. She had the rich woman’s belief that anything was possible, given enough money.
“This is an important day and I should have known better thanto trust Roger with it. I would have planned this properly myself if my gallery hadn’t been launching a new artist. And of course I had to get the dogs settled on their diets. I’ll be there in an hour to check on things.” She hung up.
Nico wasn’t worried about Penny’s arrival. Valerie had it all together. He glanced down at the plan she’d given him, labeled neatly with his name, and went to move the table back to where it should be. As Valerie joined him to check through the final details, he relaxed. For the first time in his career, he didn’t need to worry about an event.
And he would definitely ask her out before he left today.
Three
Showtime was in fifty-six minutes, and Valerie, in her gray suit, had decided to stop worrying if she was in fact looking dowdy. Her goal was not to win the best-dressed award at her client’s celebration of life, and her outfit was perfectly suitable, if dull.
Was it dull? Too late now.
She turned her attention to more pertinent topics, like whether the room was in complete readiness, which it was. The string quartet was tuning up in the corner, preparing to play an inoffensive selection of Mozart’s greatest hits. The catering staff had finished knotting their ties. She checked the signing pen for the register, then the backup pen, and thebackupbackup pen to make sure all three worked. They did. Her stomach was starting to get the flutters that normally preceded a big event. She’d had enough of these feelings over the years to know they would fade once people started arriving and her anticipation shifted to participation.
Valerie looked around for Nico. She’d been doing that all day, searching for him and feeling an intense satisfaction to find that often he’d beendoing the same to her. This time, though, he was standing in the corner frowning at his phone, which cause a small beat of disappointment.
She glanced up at the ceiling fans as sweat beaded on her forehead.
“It’s getting hot in here,” she said to Ricky, waiting for him to finish humming the expected follow-up song line before she continued. “Can we turn those fans on?”
“Good idea. I’m overheating.”
“Are you kidding?” demanded Alexis. “It’s freezing.”
Ricky studied Valerie as he wiped his face. “You don’t look so good.”
“She’s always that color,” Alexis said.
The honor table caught Valerie’s attention. “Alexis, did you secure that portrait like I asked you?”
“I’m not sure how. You’d do it so much better.” Alexis left to busy herself organizing the Bread Company booklets.
There were fifty minutes left, but Valerie knew from experience that the first guests would start to arrive in twenty, and the Badgertons even earlier. She turned on the slideshow of Malcolm’s triumphs to play in the background and was about to fix the portrait when the door opened to reveal Roger Badgerton in a navy suit and crisp white shirt. He paused and looked around as Valerie watched, stomach getting tighter, until he finally nodded, his gaze lingering on the painting of his father. Behind him was an older blond woman, Roger’s sister, Penny Badgerton-Willis. Valerie hung back, not wanting to disturb the family as they prepared themselves for the celebration of life. She’d learned it was best to give people some space before greeting them.
Nico joined Valerie and looked at her closely. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She wasn’t, now that he mentioned it. The room was still too warm, and the butterflies in her stomach had spread, along with a faint nausea when she caught a whiff of the food. Nico didn’t need to hear that, though. “All good,” she said. “Feeling one hundred percent.”
“Nico, come,” called Penny.
He crossed the room to where Penny was waiting. Valerie’s wellness percentage might be closer to fifty than a hundred, but she could muscle through for the next few hours. She had to. Planning only went so far in determining an event’s success, and managing all of the last-minute issues that inevitably popped up could make or break the experience. At one of Ruth’s weddings, a guest had inadvertently stepped on a wasps’ nest, which could have been a disaster had Ruth not trotted across the lawn in her stilettos with a huge plastic tub to cover the nest without batting an eye. Luckily, due to the advanced age of many guests, Ruth also had a St. John Ambulance crew stationed discreetly in one of the upper bedrooms who could take care of any stings.
Valerie wasn’t worried about wasps, but she suddenly had grave doubts about the freshness of the sushi Alexis had fetched for lunch. Her stomach lurched thinking about it.
Oh no.
