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She fought the grimace those words evoked, having totally forgotten about this morning’s nightmare. “Thanks,” she said. “I was thinking the same about you.”
He grinned, then turned and led the way to the industrial-looking kitchen. A medium-size room with old appliances, maybe dating back to the Alamo. He opened the oven door and the greasy aroma of fried chicken permeated the air. Making her stomach churn.
“How’s the food served for this hoe-down?”
He laughed. “I just set the aluminum containers on top of the stove, put the plates and forks out and let ‘em have at it.”
“Hmm.” Not very civilized for “Ladies Who Lunch”.
Seemed to her the women who belonged to th
e Junior League would prefer a more elegant luncheon—and venue. But Liza had to make do with the tools in her toolbox.
“You can help yourself to anything you want,” Sean said, as though he could see her brain whirling with possibilities for sprucing up this shindig. “There’s some stuff packed away in the cupboards and storage room—all left over from parties when we rent out the hall.”
This made her ears perk up. “Really? I can poke around and use whatever I want?”
“Knock your socks off,” he said. “Just check the expiration date on anything edible. No telling how long it’s been tucked away.”
“Good tip,” she said. “Thanks for your help.”
“Sure. I’ll be in here watching the chicken crisp.”
“Don’t let it burn.”
She left the kitchen and returned to the dismal meeting room. Surveying the space she had to work with, she realized she could just throw the tablecloth over the table, set the folded napkins at every place setting, put out the flowers and be done with it.
But that really wasn’t her style.
Consulting her watch, Liza was a little anxious to know she only had an hour left before the ladies would arrive. Less time before Jess would get here.
She really didn’t want to disappoint her new boss. Underachieving wasn’t exactly in her blood. And, admittedly, she wanted to impress Jess and confirm that hiring her was a good decision.
Wrapping orchids in foil may not be Liza’s forte, but impromptu parties were. And having worked in the stressful field of PR, where every event, press conference and speech could make or break a company’s reputation, she was the epitome of grace under pressure.
She went to work, starting with the table. Clearing it, she spread the white linen cloth over it from end to end, covering the hideous gray plastic. Then she retrieved the chipped white plates from the kitchen and set them in front of every chair. Rooting around in the kitchen drawers didn’t help her to find anything useful with which to fashion napkin holders. Frowning and tapping her foot on the scuffed linoleum floor, she debated her options. Sean watched with curiosity in his dark brown eyes.
“Aha,” she muttered to herself as an idea formed in her head. “Scissors?” she asked. He dug out a pair from a drawer and handed them over.
Back in the meeting room, Liza removed one of the bright yellow satin bows from an orchid pot and turned it into thirteen long, thin ribbons. Folding the napkins so they looked like fans—apropos for southern belles in the summer heat, she thought—she wrapped the ribbon around their bases and tied them in bows. With the scissors, she lightly curled the ends of the ribbon, giving them an elegant, yet dainty touch. She placed an adorned fan-napkin in the center of every plate, then added the mismatched flatware in formal fashion.
Jess’ centerpieces were beautiful arrangements, with flowers and greenery that covered low-arching metal frames. The blooms were held in place by the foam built into the framework. Greenery wound around the metal, concealing it, and other buds filled the inner part of the piece. One elegant yellow rose—surrounded by what Liza actually knew to be bluebonnet, the Texas state flower, thank you, Daddy!—served as the focal point in the middle of each arrangement. She stared at one of them for a few seconds, another great idea popping into her head.
She raced back to the kitchen, her time limited. “Votive holders and tea lights?” she asked Sean.
He frowned. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Little glass containers for little candles.”
“Oh yeah, sure. Molly Barstow had her Sweet Sixteen birthday party here a couple weeks ago and there were candles galore. She got away with all those open flames on account of her daddy being the fire marshal.”
He disappeared for a few minutes while Liza went back to the meeting room. Plucking the roses from the centers of the table arrangements, she carefully peeled off their velvety petals and scattered them around the table. She had a handful left over and considered where else they’d help to snazz up the room and make it a little more elegant, more feminine.
Her gaze landed on the credenza against the far wall. It was framed on either side by moose or elk heads. She couldn’t tell which, really. And there was nothing she could do about the hideous creatures, but…
She could turn the credenza into a buffet!
Setting aside the extra petals she’d use later, she accepted the seven votive holders Sean handed over.
