Page 86 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

“Where’s Dash?” she asked.

“He snuck back in to get one more thing,” Kate said.

“And looks like he was successful.” Foster pointed behind her.

Amid the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles and the traces of smoke in the air, the majority of their party guests walked toward them. The group split apart at the last second, allowing Dash to wheel a skirted table right up in front of Foster—his favorite cake from Beverly’s, safe and sound, and featuring a single candle right in the center. Hans rolled up right behind him, a long brass lighter in hand. He lit the candle and the group sang to Foster a second time. Natalie caught Dash’s eye and mouthed the words thank you. He replied with a subtle smile and nod of his head.

When the serenade concluded, Foster placed a hand over his chest and said, “Well, this proves two things: you folks will go through hell for a slice of cake from Beverly’s … and seventy candles would surely send the Nashville fire department into a tailspin.”

Two servers cut and boxed up slices of cake for guests to take home. It didn’t take long for the group to dwindle and soon only the inner circle remained. As much as Natalie wanted to engage in some last-minute networking, the vibe had been completely shot. Not a single guest mentioned Natalie & Co during farewells. Everyone had made it off the patio with their personal belongings though, thank goodness. Fire crews had already begun decking the halls in bright yellow caution tape.

“I’ll be in touch in a few days, once reports are in and the owners have a chance to survey the damage,” Hans said.

Natalie nodded. “Not quite the outcome we were hoping for, but you’ve been a dream to work with, Hans. Absolute grace under pressure. This is certainly not a reflection on you.”

“You’re very kind, Ms. Powell. Unfortunately, as GM, everything at Terrace Oak is a reflection on me. But hey, we saved the cake!”

Hans added a laugh after these comments. Yet, the lines of distress on his forehead sang a different tune … while Natalie composed a song of her own.

Shot through the heart and I’m to blame.

Darlin’ I give event planning a bad name.

“Would you email me the names of the owners? I want to personally reach out and let them know how beautifully you’ve handled everything.”

Because I will die if you lose your job over this.

He shook her hand. “That’s certainly not necessary, but most appreciated.”

As Hans walked away, Kate slipped up next to Natalie and touched her shoulder.

“What’s the word?” she asked.

“Hans will reach out to me in a few days and we’ll go from there. Pop will have to run back up here to pick up a few things—that is, if anything’s salvageable.”

“He’ll be more than happy to do whatever you need. Me too. Just say the word.”

Natalie’s bottom lip quivered. “Not sure what I’m going to do about the jazz trio. I don’t have insurance to cover the cost of their instruments, or a dime to pay out of pocket. And then there’s all the sound equipment–”

With a reassuring pat, Kate said, “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. Check the contract you signed with Hans. Maybe there’s a clause⁠—”

“There’s not.” Her head fell in defeat.

“When investors start reaching out, just bump up the buy-in amount to cover it. Ask for ten grand more than you’d planned to. That’s pocket change for a lot of these people.”

When investors start reaching out? Ha!

Not a single guest said a word about my pitch.

Not so much as a “good luck” sprinkled in with their goodbyes.

“I don’t think there’s gonna be any investors. No one said a word about Natalie & Co on their way out.”

“Because you’ve got to give people time to process. To go from beautiful event mode to terror-filled evacuation. It’s gonna take a minute. Wait a few days, then email everyone you pitched and go from there. You’ll see. It’s all gonna work out.”

“I sure hope you’re right.” Natalie blew out a breath and pulled out her phone. “I’ve got to call for a car and get rolling or else I’m gonna miss my flight.”

“After everything that's happened, I think you can call in sick tomorrow. Stay one more night.”