| |
When the menus were printed and everything was organized for that night’s dinner service, Sarah went up to Emile’s apartment to change into the clothes she had dropped off earlier—a cornflower-blue silk blouse that matched her eyes, a slim black pencil skirt, Grandma Annie’s long pearls, and a pair of strappy heels that made her six feet tall. She parted her hair in the middle, smoothed it perfectly straight with a flatiron, and was careful with her makeup. She would need the boost in confidence for her afternoon rendezvous with Carlotta Maria Del Monte, aka the Chocolate Bride. They were going to visit the banquet hall together, sample several chocolate wedding cake options that Paisley had prepared, and hopefully make important decisions.
Carlotta had been fairly undemanding so far but had a tendency to change her mind. Sarah’s job today was to get her to commit. They needed to move things along. The wedding date was coming up fast, and Sarah couldn’t put off this meeting any longer, even though she felt far from ready to pose as a chocolate expert and seasoned caterer.
When the happy couple had first contacted Emile, they’d already booked a location for the wedding. Sarah wasn’t surprised to hear that it was the most over-the-top, insanely expensive place in the area. She’d be staging the event in the ballroom at the Ashford Country Club, which had a bar and restaurant and a full banquet kitchen and normally catered its own weddings.
Sarah’s eyes had opened wide when she’d heard the news, but Carlotta had just shrugged, waving her left hand so the spectacular marquise-cut diamond perched there flashed blinding rays of light. “Don’t you worry,” Carlotta said, patting Sarah’s arm. “Teddy figured they might be a little miffed we were bringing you in, so he called the manager and asked him to make sure they’re all real friendly to your people. He worked something out, you know?” She winked, and Sarah wondered just what kind of deal the Chocolate Groom had struck. “We’ll go over there together and check it out. Have a little picnic. Try the cakes. It’ll be fun! My girlfriends want to come too. I’ll pick you up at three o’clock on Sunday, in front of your restaurant. Watch for the white car.”
On her way out, Sarah stopped to kiss Emile. He was ensconced in his chair by the window, with notepads, newspapers, and cookbooks scattered around him. He pushed his reading glasses up onto his forehead to look at her, throwing her a kiss with his fingers in the classic French gesture.
“You look wonderful, cheri. Beautiful!” he said, tipping up his cheek to meet her lips. “Don’t worry about a thing. You will be absolument parfait.”
The wash of sunlight coming in the window behind him glowed brighter for a moment. Sarah imagined her grandmother standing next to Emile’s chair, looking on as they spoke, and felt reassured.
“I hope you’ve managed to stuff enough information into my head,” Sarah said. “And I hope Paisley keeps an eye on her cell phone in case I need to secretly text her with questions. You too!”
“It’s right here.” He gestured toward the lamp table next to him. “I’ll be waiting, and I’ve practiced my thumb typing, just in case. It’s not easy with these clumsy old sausage fingers.”
Sarah collected the cake boxes waiting downstairs and made her way to the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. She heard a muffled pounding noise that seemed to be coming closer and closer. A white stretch limousine turned the corner, pulling up at Sarah’s feet. When the driver jumped out and went around to open the rear door for her, music blared out into the street.
Carlotta and two of her bridesmaids were already celebrating the big event. Dance music pulsed as they swayed and sang along, wineglasses in hand. Carlotta beckoned Sarah inside as the driver carefully loaded the cakes. She waved at her friend to kill the music and grabbed both of Sarah’s hands.
“Here she is, the woman who is literally making my dreams come true, Sarah Dumas!” The two girls cheered, and Sarah didn’t bother to correct them on her last name, which was actually still Westwood, the same as Devon’s. “These are my BFFs, Kayla and Nicole.”
They both sang “hi-iii” and smiled, waving their glasses. The three had obviously been to the salon together, as they all sported intricate hairdos and matching hot-pink manicures. Kayla poured a glass of white wine for Sarah then passed it carefully as the limo began to roll down the street.
“Carlotta, your hair looks amazing!” Sarah examined the complicated series of braids and twists. With the bride’s black hair, tanned skin, and light-gray eyes, she made a striking picture.
“It’s the Viking look,” Carlotta said, running her hand lightly over the crown of her head. In the front, hanging down over her shoulder, one longer braid was adorned with a rustic silver bead. “I’m trying out different options for the wedding. What do you think?”
Kayla and Nicole showed Sarah their braided hair too, and by the time they arrived at the club, they were all chattering away.
The banquet hall at the Ashford Country Club was available for members only, but the Chocolate Groom, aka Theodore Wilson Hamilton III, aka Teddy, had been a member since birth, so that wasn’t a problem. Sarah had been there once before to attend the annual chamber of commerce holiday party. When the four women walked into the enormous lobby, she saw that the restaurant straight ahead was filled with families having Sunday-afternoon dinner, and the golfers’ bar to the left was packed. A discreetly uniformed assistant manager immediately approached Carlotta and welcomed her then took them to the closed double doors that Sarah knew led into the ballroom. He held them open briefly as the women went inside.
It’s perfect, Sarah thought. For the first time since she’d been handed this project, a thrill of creative excitement touched her. She looked around the room and imagined it set up for the event. Carlotta had chosen cream calla lilies and white roses for her floral theme, to complement her ivory silk gown, which fell in a long slim column. Sarah pictured flowers on the tables, on the stage, and edging the dance floor, with table linens of chocolate brown layered with crisp white, to match the staff uniforms. The bridesmaids would wear frothy mocha lace, and the groom and his men would be in dark-brown tuxedos. The walls and flooring in here were perfect, in earth tones with white marble trim and accents. Long brown velvet draperies tied back by heavy silk sashes framed the tall windows and French doors leading to the patio. It would be gorgeous, a chocolate lover’s dream. Add the amazing menu that Emile and Paisley had put together, and the ultimate chocolate wedding fantasy would come true.
Carlotta stood in the middle of the room and rotated, pointing and dictating. Sarah stood beside her and took notes, trying to keep up.
“I want the bars there, there, and there. And we’ll cut the cake in front of the windows, over there. When it’s time to go home, you can set up the little cakes and ice creams right outside the door here, so people pick them up after they get their things from the coat room. You’re bringing some kind of little refrigerator, right?” She turned to Sarah, who was scribbling madly on the rough floor plan she had sketched.
Sarah nodded. “Blake, the ice cream guy, is bringing a portable freezer. He’s going to be here in person to serve when you cut the cake and afterward, when people take their goodies and leave.” This was something she could say with confidence, since he had told her so when they were raiding the refrigerator around three in the morning.
“Hmm,” Carlotta said, giving Sarah a quick, curious look. “Good for him. The dedicated, hard-working type, eh?”
“Very.” Sarah felt her cheeks warm, thinking of his extremely dedicated behavior last night.
Carlotta grinned and winked.
Oh dear, Sarah thought. It’s that obvious?
The assistant manager brought out the three white pastry boxes and set them on a table with plates, forks, and serving knives. The women gathered around and sampled tiny slices of each cake. Everyone agreed that the dark chocolate studded with semisweet chocolate chips, marbled with streaks of chocolate pudding, and enrobed in chocolate ganache was the winner, hands down.
“Are you sure she can do this in a multitiered cake?” Carlotta wanted to know. “It won’t be too heavy and squash the bottom layers? Seems like the cake is pretty soft, and the ganache would be hard to cut. I love it, though. Yum!”
Sarah wrote down the questions. “I’ll explain all that in just a minute, if you don’t mind,” she said and whispered, “Ladies’ room?” Carlotta smiled and pointed the way. “Be right back,” Sarah called as she scooted into the hallway.
She pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed her cousin at she entered the bathroom. “Can we do the pudding cake in tiers? Won’t it collapse when they try to cut through the ganache? Help! I have no idea!”
Paisley sounded serene, always the eye of the storm. “Calm down, Sarah. Yes, of course we can. That’s why I sent a sample. I have a way of supporting the layers, and after they cut the ceremonial first slice, I’ll do the rest myself to make sure it’s perfect. I use a warm knife. It works fine.”
Sarah could hear kitchen noises and people talking in the background and glanced at the clock on her phone. “Wow, it’s so late. I didn’t realize.”
“Why don’t you take the night off?” her cousin suggested. “Carrie’s coming in a minute, and the reservation list looks pretty light. You could use a break.”
“Really?”
“We’ll be fine. Get some rest, Sarah.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She washed her hands and checked her hair then went back to the ballroom to report her findings about the cake as though she’d always known the answers. Carlotta asked the assistant manager to box up the remaining cakes and put them in her car. Then the ladies trooped into the bar for a glass of champagne, which turned into two when the golfers found out what they’d just been doing. By the time they got back to the limo, Sarah was a little woozy, but since Devon was safe with Miki tonight and someone else was driving, she wasn’t too worried about it. She’d been flirting with the men and laughing with the women, silly fun she hadn’t enjoyed in ages. It was the kind of relief she needed with so much on her mind. The client seemed happy and relaxed too, which had been Sarah’s goal for the day.
The driver started the engine and took them gliding into the night. Darkness closed around them and turned the softly lit limo into a magical, intimate space. They traveled in silence for a few minutes, then Carlotta slid the cake boxes across the seat.
She pulled a handful of plastic forks out of her purse and challenged them with a raised eyebrow. “Ladies? Little snack?”
Carlotta cranked up the music, and they all attacked the cakes. Before she realized what had happened, Sarah had eaten way too much chocolate for her own good. The chemical high and intoxicating aroma had seduced her again. Her head began to buzz, and she couldn’t stop laughing. When Carlotta opened another bottle of champagne, a loud pop sounded, and Sarah felt certain tonight was a lost cause for them all. They were in Cocoa Fantasy Land, and it was truly a paradise.
Sarah felt the vehicle glide to a stop.
Kayla rolled down her window. “We’re here! Woo-hoo!”
“Really?” Nicole said, scrambling up to see. “Woo-hoo!”
“Woo what?” Sarah looked at Carlotta, who was struggling out of her jacket.
“Too hot,” the bride muttered, yanking at her sleeve. “Won’t need this inside, anyhow.”
“Where are we? I need to go home.” Sarah rolled down the other window. They were in the parking lot at Weepin’ Willie’s, the raunchiest bar in the county, and from the looks of the other vehicles parked nearby, there was a gang of bikers inside getting smashed. Sounded like it too.
“Oh no,” she said, a big danger sign flashing in her brain. She tried to grab Carlotta’s arm as the woman slid across the seat and out the door. “You really don’t want to go in there.” Sarah lost her grip on the bride and slid out into the driveway, somehow managing to land on her feet.
“Yes, I do,” Carlotta said, linking arms with her BFFs and heading toward the door. “We come here all the time, don’t we, girls?” They laughed and kept on walking.
Sarah tripped along behind like somebody’s kid sister. “You do? For real? ‘Cause I don’t think it’s the right kind of place for someone like you guys, you know? Or like me, for that matter. Couldn’t we just get back in the—”
She looked yearningly at the limo then turned and followed the others in time to hear Carlotta sing out, “Party! Tequila shots for everybody.”
Then there was a loud cheer, and Sarah followed them into the bar as she tried to get Carlotta’s attention. “Stop, please! This is a really, really bad idea.”
* * *
BLAKE AND HIS BROTHER leaned against the bar with a couple of cold beers in green bottles and watched as three crazy females all tried to squeeze through the door at the same time with their arms linked then gave up and entered one at a time. Then, after the third one, trailing along with a familiar scowl on her face, came Sarah.
She teetered on spindly little ridiculously high heels. Without thinking, he stepped over to hold her up so she wouldn’t break an ankle in those idiotic shoes. She was reaching out toward the woman with the strange braided hairdo and calling, “Wait! Stop!” Then she recognized him and swayed on her feet. Concerned, he folded her under his arm and swung her up onto the barstool next to Jordan so the brothers stood on either side of her. When Blake registered the pungent scent of chocolate and alcohol, he realized why she seemed out of it.
“You! What are you doing here?” She frowned and leaned away from him. “And what are you wearing?” She examined his leather riding gear with obvious surprise. Then she noticed his brother and raised one eyebrow.
“Whoa,” Jordan said. “If it isn’t Little Miss Chocolate. Slumming, babycakes?”
“Watch it,” Blake growled. “None of that.”
“I am most certainly not,” she said, blinking. She centered herself on the stool and crossed her legs. “I’m meeting with a client, actually.”
Jordan snorted. “Ri-ight, that’s a good one.”
“I am too. That’s the Chocolate Bride over there, Carlotta, the dark-haired one by the pool tables who’s buying drinks for everyone.”
The bartender was pouring tequila shots and passing them around. Blake and Sarah declined, but Jordan grabbed his and downed it in one swig. He looked toward the three women, who were now dancing. “Who are your pretty new friends?” His eyes wandered over to watch Carlotta kick off her Jimmy Choos and pick up a pool cue then chalk the tip. He put down his beer and started walking in her direction.
“Oops!” Sarah wobbled on her perch, and Blake steadied her, rotating the stool a bit so he could hold her in place. She gave him a dirty look, and he quickly held both hands in the air with an innocent smile. Obviously she was still mad at him, for whatever reason, but he wasn’t going to just walk away. Maybe this would be his chance to get back into her good graces. He signaled to the bartender for a glass of water and offered it to her.
She accepted it and automatically sipped but seemed more interested in what was going on across the room. “I warned them,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Laughter and cheers erupted from the pool tables, and Blake glanced over to see Carlotta lining up a shot. It looked as though she was playing against Jordan and some of his buddies. Her two friends sat on the laps of a couple of big, burly guys he’d seen at Willie’s lots of times, regulars. Everyone watched avidly as the game proceeded, and the reason was soon obvious. Carlotta had apparently invited them to a game of Strip Pool. Instead of playing for money or drinks, they were playing for clothes.
It started with shoes, socks, and jewelry, but soon things got more serious. Several rounds of drinks were called for, and the noise volume escalated. The crowd got rowdier as Carlotta stripped down to her matching black lace bra and panties, and a couple of the guys were left wearing boxers. Jordan was doing pretty well and had managed to keep his pants on.
Sarah watched the whole thing while sitting with her legs crossed in a ladylike pose, her eyes wide and rarely blinking. Blake was a little worried about her.
“What were you ladies doing today, anyhow?”
“Oh, scouting the banquet hall and tasting cakes.” She kept close attention on her friends, a worried pucker between her eyebrows. “I think they had too much chocolate and champagne,” she whispered behind her hand.
He laughed. “You think so? They do seem to be having an interesting evening.”
“Not me, though.” Sarah glanced at him and folded her hands in her lap. “I know when to stop, especially around so many men.”
“Oh, I see. Can’t trust them, right?”
“No, of course not.” She waved one hand. “Things can get out of control, you know.”
“Yes, I remember.”
She thought for a minute then raised her eyes. “I do too. Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid of me to, um... lead you on. Sorry.”
He watched her face cycle through several expressions, from embarrassment to sorrow. She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye.
“I just can’t do it, Blake. Every time I let down my guard, it’s a disaster.”
“Sarah, I’m not like him. I’m one of the good guys.”
“I know, but really, it’s just impossible. My heart isn’t normal anymore. You should find someone else.” A tear slipped from her eye and ran down her cheek.
Blake wiped it away gently with his thumb, frowning. “What if I don’t want to? What if I want you? Give us a chance. I won’t let you down.” He put his arms around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “Please trust me.”
She shook her head then hesitated, gazing at him wistfully.
“I love you, Sarah,” he whispered in her ear, but he wasn’t sure she heard him. The crowd was getting louder and rowdier, and now it sounded as if a fight was breaking out. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the bouncer coming out from behind the bar, holding a baseball bat. Blake’s brain flashed, warning him to pay attention.
“Uh-oh,” he said, setting Sarah on her wobbly feet and urging her toward the door. “Time to go, missy.” He half carried her away from the bar as they pushed through the crowd.
She clung to him, looking back over her shoulder anxiously. “But wait, my friends. Shouldn’t we do something?”
Blake looked over and saw Jordan taking charge, herding the three women toward the rear exit, his arms full of discarded clothing.
“I think those girls can take care of themselves, honey. Let’s meet them outside.”
As they slipped toward the exit, he saw a woman’s hand rise above the crowd, swinging a black lace bra round and round. Then a man’s hands appeared, grabbed the bra, and shot it across the room like a rubber band.
Blake grinned and steered Sarah out the door.