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‘So you have nothing prepared?’
‘Sure, I do.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘In here.’
‘How very informal of you.’ Returning to her laptop, she typed in her password.
‘Next you’ll be telling me you’ve created a spreadsheet.’ His teasing tone did nothing to ease her rattled state, especially as shehadcreated a spreadsheet. The wedding planning website strongly recommended it.
Clicking on the wedding folder, her master checklist spreadsheet popped up on the screen.
His eyes grew wide. ‘Oh, my, god. You have created a spreadsheet?’
She turned to glare at him. ‘If you’ve quite finished.’ Turning back to her laptop, she double-clicked on her PowerPoint presentation. The first slide showed a photo of a tiny church nestled in a small hamlet within Bodmin Moor. ‘The Knights Templar,’ she said, referring to her notes. ‘Built in the twelfth century, a grade II listed building, secluded enough to be remote, but within a short drive from the A30.’
He squinted at the photo. ‘Do they want a church wedding?’
She shrugged. ‘I assume so.’
‘Bodmin Moor? That’s Cornwall, right? Why so far away?’
‘That leads me on to my next slide.’ She clicked the page. ‘The main venue. The Jamaica Inn, also located in Bodmin Moor.’
A selection of images appeared in a slide show. First the large pirate-ship sign outside the building, followed by the sumptuous four-poster bed in the bridal suite, and finishing with the lavish period-designed banqueting area.
She waited for him to say something positive, or at least nod his approval, but instead he frowned and said, ‘It’s a bit… gothic, isn’t it?’
‘Gothic? Of course not. It’s romantic.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s your idea of romantic?’
She sighed. Dealing with a Neanderthal was such exhausting work. ‘It’s a recreation of the inn in Daphne du Maurier’s classic novel.’
‘Still not getting the romance.’
‘It was my sister’s favourite novel when she was young. She studied it for A Level English literature.’
He didn’t look convinced. ‘And?’
‘And, as she’s now an actress, I thought it would be a nice nod to her favourite childhood story and her current profession.’ She clicked on the next slide. ‘Plus, it has a museum, a gift shop and the option to wear period dress from the era.’
‘Fancy dress?’ He looked appalled.
‘Not fancy dress, period dress.’
‘Same thing.’
‘Not the same thing. Fancy dress is not classy.’
‘Neither is dressing up as a pirate smuggler.’
She bit her tongue. ‘They have walking tours across Bodmin Moor and organised games for evening entertainment.’
He shook his head. ‘Why would we want that?’
‘For the stag and hen dos.’
He looked incredulous. ‘You think Zac wants a stag do involving organised games and visiting a stuffy museum?’
‘I thought it would be fun.’
