Page 77 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

‘Well . . . no.’

‘Right.’ Jean’s voice stayed calm and practical. ‘Listen to me. Feeding fourteen people isn’t the same as feeding four. You need food you can control.’

Sammy glanced at her original ideas – roast chicken sounded controllable.

‘You want things you can prep ahead,’ Jean continued.

‘So . . . not beef Wellington.’

‘Christ no.’

Sammy laughed again. ‘What would you make?’

‘Starter?’

‘Mm.’

‘Soup. Something seasonal. Easy.’

Sammy immediately wrote that down, with a note next to it – speak to Nate. ‘Fish course?’

‘No fish course. For the main . . . Good roast, bit of beef or lamb. Dauphinoise potatoes. Proper vegetables. Something you’ve cooked before.’

‘That sounds . . . normal.’

‘Normal’s underrated.’

Sammy stared at her chaotic notes. No lobster. No beef Wellington. ‘And pudding?’

‘Something you can make the day before.’

Sammy blew out a breath. The kitchen still felt too hot, but her heart rate had steadied.

‘You know,’ Jean said, ‘folk who really know what they’re doing usually don’t need to show off about it.’

Sammy looked toward the door Valerie had disappeared through earlier. ‘Thanks,’ she said softly, ending the call, but before she put the phone down, it sounded again: Chloe.

Sammy smiled inwardly, excitement rising. ‘Hi, Clo . . . I’ve got the most brilliant news . . .’

‘Hang on,’ Chloe cut in. ‘I’ve just sat down with an ice cream, so this better be good. Go on, entertain me.’

Sammy plunged in, words tumbling over themselves as she told her about the dinner. Fourteen guests.

‘Fourteen?’ Chloe let out a low whistle. ‘God, that’s . . . a lot. You’re basically running a restaurant now.’

‘It’s a dinner party,’ Sammy said, still buoyant. ‘I’m working through what I could do . . . let me tell you what I’m planning.’

‘Mm,’ Chloe said, and Sammy could hear the scrape of a spoon, a slow, deliberate swallow. ‘This won’t delay my stay, will it? Cos I can’t stand much more of that pair . . .’

Sammy pushed her notebook away. ‘I don’t know when the dinner will be yet.’ Even to her own ears, it sounded off – flattened somehow.

Another chew. A swallow. ‘Right. Well,’ Chloe said lightly, ‘obviously this cooking thing comes first. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your big event.’ A small laugh. ‘Sounds like a lot of work though. Hope it’s worth it.’

Sammy couldn’t think of a reply.

‘Anyway,’ Chloe went on, brightening again, ‘we’ll make a plan when you actually know, yeah? No point me rearranging my life for a maybe.’

‘Yeah,’ Sammy said. ‘Yeah, of course.’