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“That’s very nice of you to say. Both of you.” Sammie’s eyes glistened. “But I don’t know anything about wedding planning.”
“You can learn whatever you don’t know,” I said. “Anyway, no one can teach good taste. You’re either born with it or not.”
She gazed at me blankly.
“Which you have,” I said, realizing she hadn’t understood what I was trying to say. “You have a natural eye for what things should look like—elegant and understated and very beautiful.” Kind of like you, I thought but didn’t say. “You and I can work together to put a marketing plan in place. We’ll want to add a section to the website. I’m thinking we use some of Annie and Atticus’s wedding photos. The photographer got some great close-ups of the tables.”
“But what about my job at the restaurant?”
“Do you really want to wait tables the rest of your life?” I asked.
Her expression darkened. “I hadn’t really thought about it before.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” I said hastily. I’d put my foot in it. “I just meant, going forward, it might be nice to have evenings to spend with Chloe and a little more income.”
She sighed, dipping her chin in a sign of defeat. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“You’ll have to do both until we get some bookings,” I said.
“A destination wedding on a ranch. That sounds really nice, actually.” Had I detected a wistfulness in Sammie’s voice?
“I think it’s a great idea.” Soren pushed his empty plate aside. “You’ll be great at it too. You’ve got the right temperament to work with the public. People are rough sometimes. Hardest part of the job for me.”
“Yeah, there’s a reason you’re in the barn,” I said.
“Very funny.” Soren shot me a dirty look. “You’re not supposed to agree when someone says something self-deprecating.”
I chuckled. “Sorry, man. I was just kidding.”
“It’s all right. All true anyway,” Soren said.
“The brides could be challenging,” I said to Sammie. “Not everyone could do it.”
“Y’all really think I can do it?” Sammie asked. “I’ve never done anything except waitress and take care of my—of Chloe.”
Y’all. A perfect example of why I didn’t think she was from Philly.
“You can do it,” I said. “I have really good instincts about this kind of thing. So does Mama.”
“It’s worth discussing, I guess.” Sammie slouched over her plate, pushing a berry from one side to the other.
“Hey, if you’re not interested, it’s no big deal.” Her reaction stung a little. Mama was trying to help. She had a special place in her heart for single mothers. Before Pop, she’d been one. According to Atticus, even before our real father died, she was basically on her own.
Her head jerked up. “No, I’m interested.”
“Are you worried about childcare?” I asked.
Sammie worked three lunch and two evening shifts at the Bunkhouse. She’d told me she liked to work the evening because the tips were so good, but it was hard to leave Chloe at night. One of those evenings, Mama came over to the house and looked after her. On the other evening, Soren and I watched Chloe. Even though Sammie acted as though it was a huge favor, it really wasn’t much work for us. I did most of the work while Soren dozed on the couch. I couldn’t blame him since he’d been up since the crack of dawn. Typically, I fed Chloe a meal already prepared by her mother, put her in her jammies, and read to her before tucking her into bed at seven thirty.
“No. The preschool at the church is great. She loves it there,” Sammie said. “If I had to work more, I could add on a few more days.”
“Then what is it?”
“All those happy couples.” Sammie tugged at a piece of skin on her thumb.
“Make you feel lonely?” Soren asked.
“Something like that, yeah,” Sammie said.
