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“She cancelled the caterer. One day before her wedding.” A slow burn started beneath Bobbi’s skin. “The caterer that I hand picked. The caterer that is the most sought after caterer in this entire county. Do you know that I had to bribe Chef Jean with free hockey lessons for his kids to get him to do this on Christmas Eve? Hockey lessons that I haven’t told Billie about either.”
“I’m sure your sister won’t mind.”
“She’s full of shit by the way.”
“Who, Billie or Betty?”
“Betty! Honestly, Gramps. Aren’t you paying attention? She likes shrimp.” Doesn’t she?
Bobbi threw her hands up into the air. “What the hell does she expect everyone to eat? Fruit loops? There’s a sale on at the grocer. I could stock up. What do you think? Twenty-five boxes or so?”
“Betty said that Duke Everett was on it.”
Bobbi snorted. “Duke Everett? What’s he going to be able to scrounge together this late in the game? It’s not like he can order in anything special. It’s freaking two days until Christmas. Nothing will get here in time. So what’s on the menu, chicken wings and pizza?”
Herschel looked pained. “Something like that.”
“You know what?” She tossed a cloth into the kitchen sink. “Whatever. It’s her wedding, is there anything else I should know about?”
“She also said something about not getting married at the church. Thought it wasn’t cozy enough.”
Okay. Bobbi was going to lose it now. Sure she’d volunteered to oversee the details of her sister’s wedding, and she supposed that as Betty was the bride it was her sister’s prerogative to change all the things that Bobbi had painstakingly organized, but to do it one day before the event? Was her sister nuts?
“Oh god,” Bobbi groaned. Of course her sister was nuts.
“She said not to worry,” Herschel said quickly.
“Really,” Bobbi said. “And why is that exactly?”
“W
ell, she said that Shane agreed to host the wedding at his place.”
“That’s my place too, and I sure as hell don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“Betty said the one barn can be converted into something suitable.”
“Unbelievable,” Bobbi replied with a wince. Shit, was that the beginning of a headache? She rubbed her temple and headed for the cabinet in the bathroom. She grabbed some pain meds and after washing it down with a cold glass of water, she glanced at her grandfather.
“So who’s doing the converting?”
“Converting?” He scratched at his ball cap.
“Who’s doing all the work? Because I sure as hell have better things to do.” Like finding those damn roses.
“Matt Hawkins from what I understand.”
Okay, Bobbi thought. That wasn’t so bad. The guy was handy.
“There is one more thing though,” Herschel said hesitantly.
Bobbi was afraid to ask. So she said nothing.
“She asked about the roses.”
Yep. That was definitely a headache coming on.
“What did you tell her?” Bobbi asked.
