Aarti snapped the run of show back into the binder after she’d finished reading through the details of her sister’s wedding for maybe the hundredth time. Everything looked perfect. It had to be. This was her big chance to prove herself as an event planner to her parents.
She’d followed her family’s tradition of becoming a doctor, but her heart had always pulled her toward organizing and overseeing the momentous celebrations in people’s lives. Her mother had never seen Aarti’s dream as anything more than a hobby, though, and in their family, that made it so. Maybe this would change things.
Nearby, her phone rang. The name Taylor Mobley, the chef doing the catering for the wedding, appeared on the screen. A chill rushed over her. They’d long ago established what time Taylor would arrive, and Aarti had texted her the address days ago. “Hello?”
“Aarti. It’s Erin Rasmussen.”
She froze. It wasn’t Taylor who greeted her, but her wife. Aarti closed the sliding glass door so she could hear over the crashing waves. Even in nice weather in the Hamptons, the swells rushed the shoreline, though they tended to be more bark than bite.
“What’s wrong?” She grasped the back of a chair for support, her mind already spinning with potential issues and ways to rectify them.
“Taylor broke her leg.”
This couldn’t be happening. A bit offshore, a few surfers straddled their boards, waiting. “What do you mean?”
“And fractured her wrist. A gutter overflowed and rainwater accumulated on the restaurant’s loading dock. She slipped and fell. We just got the imaging results. She wanted to inform you, but they’ve given her something for the pain, so I thought it better I break the news.” The weariness in Erin’s voice bled through the line.
Another time, Aarti might’ve inquired what type of fracture, but more important questions needed answers. In the background, Taylor pleaded for the phone.
“No, darling, you won’t be able to do it.” Erin’s muffled voice was barely audible. “I’ll tell her the plan. Just rest.”
With a hand on her forehead, Aarti paced the small living room. Late afternoon sunlight glinted off the waves as they tumbled toward the beach, and a few fishing vessels sat offshore. But the stunning view didn’t give her its usual solace. Not after this. “I’m sorry she’s injured. Where are you? Is there anything I can do?” She tried to focus, but her mind raced. Maya’s wedding was mere days away. What was Aarti supposed to do? As the event planner, she needed to figure out something fast.
“We’re at Lenox Hill. It wasn’t too busy when we arrived, so they saw her within an hour.” Again, Erin spoke to Taylor in a soothing voice.
Aarti pressed two fingers to her carotid artery and watched the clock on the mantel. Great. Tachycardia.
In the background, Erin assured Taylor that she wouldn’t be fit to cook for over a hundred guests, and no, she wouldn’t hand over the phone.
Aarti assumed Taylor’s medications had kicked in. “Well, let me know if I can reach out to any of my colleagues.”
“Thank you, but everyone’s been quite attentive,” Erin said, her attention on Aarti once again.
“Good.” Aarti had been so excited to forget the hospital on her vacation week, not that she wouldn’t still be working, just a different kind of work. The fulfilling kind. But her heartburn flared as she contemplated the problem. “You mentioned you had a plan?”
“Yes, I spoke with the executive chef of our second restaurant. Josephine Samuels. We’re sending her in Taylor’s place. Her sous chef can handle everything while she’s gone. It’ll be an excellent test for him. Meanwhile, Taylor’s sous chef can cover for her with my help. I’ve gotten quite adept at expediting. We’ll manage without Jo this week.”
“Erin, I respectfully disagree. She might be good, but this is an enormous problem, and I’m not comfortable throwing someone new into an event this important.” Aarti pulled her hair from her ponytail and shook it out. A headache pressed against the back of her eyes. “I’m not sure how much Taylor shared with you, but she told her cousin she’d be here herself overseeing the food preparation. Jackson and my sister have planned not one wedding, but two, with Christian and Hindu ceremonies, and there are separate menus for everything.” She threw the hair tie. “Catering one wedding is hard enough. How am I supposed to deal with an unknown chef? I can’t serve pigs in a blanket at the reception when everyone will be expecting traditional Indian food.” Even as she finished her tirade, she couldn’t come up with a better solution.
“Yes, yes, of course. That’s the good news. Jo helped Taylor choose the Indian dishes for the menu.”
Aarti bit her lip. What choice did she have? If they trusted this Jo woman, maybe it wasn’t quite doomsday yet. “But what about the rehearsal dinner and the rest of the week’s meals? What about supervising the catering team and setting up the outdoor kitchen?” She turned back to the view. Dark clouds to the north threatened rain. Fine, it could rain all it wanted today, but if a drop fell the rest of the week, she’d have something to say to more than one deity.
“Jo’s seen all the menus, and she can cook anything. And remember, the catering team under her will remain the same, so you’ll have that consistency. Taylor worked for the owner when she was in school. They’re professionals and do this all the time. Hold, please.” Again, Erin spoke to Taylor in a hushed voice.
Aarti drummed her fingers against the window.
“Taylor says they know how to erect the outdoor tent and kitchen faster than, well, she mentioned some elephant and circus analogy that would make more sense if you could see the state she’s in.”
Aarti pressed her forehead to the cool glass. Maya would never consider postponing the wedding, not with so many relatives flying in to attend. “We don’t have any other options, do we?” She’d hoped this event would go off without a hitch so her parents would respect her talents. How foolish she’d been.
Erin sighed. “I could drive Taylor to the Hamptons and park her on a stool to bark orders, but she’d be limited in what she could do. I think Jo’s a better option, and selfishly, I think Taylor should take it easy.”
“You’re right. Taylor needs to rest and recover.” Aarti rubbed her temple. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to wrap my head around this and make sure the event is successful. I’m sure Taylor wants that, too.”
“She does.” Erin said. “Jackson’s her favorite cousin, and she feels terrible—yes, darling, I just told her he’s your favorite cousin. No, I’m not telling her that—and she wanted to be the caterer as her gift to him. We still plan to attend the weddings, or at least as much of the day as she can handle. I’m going to rent a wheelchair for her.”
“He’ll be glad to see her. Have you told him yet?” Aarti hoped she didn’t have to be the one to break the news to Jackson and Maya.
“Yes, I spoke with him right before I called you.”
Aarti turned from the window with its graying sky and sank into a corner of the sofa. “When can I expect Jo?”
“She plans to be there at nine, just like Taylor had. I’ll run the binder with the run of show, menus, and recipes over to her once I get this one home and settled, though I’m sure Jo knows them by heart.” Erin cleared her throat. “I know this development makes things stressful for you, but know we’re sending you the next best.”
“Thank you.” She appreciated the sentiment. “If Jo’s as good as you make her out to be, we should survive.”
“I think you’ll do better than that, but you’ll meet her tomorrow. I’m sorry, they’re getting ready to release Taylor, so I need to go, but please call me if I can be of any help.”
Erin recited her number, and Aarti saved it to her phone.
“Give Taylor my best. And thanks for finding a solution.” Aarti hung up and leaned against the sofa’s arm. She’d done minor events, even a few weddings, but this was her biggest function to date. It was supposed to show her family how capable she was, how organized, how she’d spent months, even years, planning the smallest detail. And now, it appeared to be in limbo.
Perhaps Taylor was right. It seemed like a circus.
* * *
The crunch of gravel alerted Aarti a car had arrived at the guest cottage on her parents’ Southampton property. After checking the buttons of her blouse aligned with the fly of her slacks, she stepped onto the small porch and shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun off the SUV’s window.
A woman, presumably Jo Samuels, retrieved something from the rear seat, and her form-fitting jeans concealed little of her muscular physique. Aarti’s gaze traversed tight thighs and calves and stopped at the most audacious socks peeking above the woman’s Crocs. Fluorescent yellow, dotted with unwrapped Hershey’s kisses, or—Aarti blinked a few times—nope, poop emojis.
It was going to be a long week.
Jo straightened and swung the door closed. She held a large duffel and a tote with a binder protruding from it. Her black tank hugged her torso, revealing she wore no bra, and an electric guitar decorated the front, the neck curving over one breast. Her hair, light brown at the roots and blond at the tips, shot out haphazardly in various directions in a manner that seemed intentional. Her piercing blue eyes claimed the status of most striking feature and seemed to take in Aarti much like she’d done moments before.
“I was told to stop at the little house. Am I in the right place?” Jo halted a few feet away. Her eyes were even bluer this close, like the depths of a drop-off beyond a sandbar.
Aarti snapped to attention and extended her hand. “You are. I’m Aarti Singh, the event planner.”
Jo shifted the tote, so both bags hung from one shoulder. “Jo Samuels. Nice to meet you. I’m filling in for Taylor.”
Her grip was firm, as if daily use had strengthened her hands. Aarti’s fingertips grazed over small callouses on Jo’s palm as she pulled away. Her runaway mind went to what they might feel like on other parts of her before she shoved the thoughts aside.
She focused. “I’m sorry to hear about Taylor. Thanks for volunteering.”
Something passed over Jo’s face. “I’m not volunteering. Taylor and Erin are my bosses. I go where they say.”
Aarti bristled. “Well, I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but—”
“That came out wrong.” Jo leaned against the handrail. “I’m happy to do what they ask. They’ve been generous, and if I can help you out this week, I’m glad.” She slowly smiled. “Even more glad now that I’m here.”
Was she flirting? Aarti took a step back. It was going to be difficult getting through the next handful of days working with a woman she was attracted to. She didn’t need Jo hitting on her to complicate matters.
“Let me show you where you’ll be staying.” Aarti crossed the porch and opened the door to the second unit, identical to the one she’d exited. Once inside, she turned in a circle. “It’s not huge, but you have it to yourself. As you can see, there’s a kitchenette, not that you’ll probably want to cook once you’re done for the day. Snacks are in the cupboard. And there’s a king bed and a full bath through there.”
Instead of checking out the bedroom, Jo dropped her bags on the floor and wandered through the living area to the sliding glass doors. “Whoa, look at that view. I’m staying here?” Her expression held childlike wonder.
Aarti had to smile. “Yes, it’s my parents’ guest house.” She opened the slider, and they stepped outside. “You’re welcome to use the deck.” She motioned across a low wall covered in wooden shakes, splitting the area in half. “I’ll be staying on the other side if you need anything.”
Jo glanced past her, where her bikini hung over a chaise lounge. “Is that yours?” The gleam in her eyes returned.
Aarti’s cheeks warmed. “It needed to dry. Let’s go back inside.”
Jo tested the thick cushion of the lounge chair. “This is almost as big as a twin bed.” She trailed her hand over the headrest. “I might sleep out here so I can hear the waves.”
As they stepped inside, Aarti shook away the image of Jo sleeping a dozen feet away, only a pane of glass between them. “Why don’t you get changed? I’ll be next door. Just knock when you’re ready.”
But before they reached the middle of the room, Jo bent over, and unable to stop in time, Aarti grabbed Jo’s hips to keep from slamming into her.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were stopping.”
A subtle scent surprised her, a perfume but not floral. Its notes were fresh and redolent of cardamom. Aarti glanced at her hands, still holding onto Jo’s jeans. She ripped them away.
Jo straightened, shook out a chef’s coat, and shrugged into it.
Aarti, mesmerized, watched her deftly push knots through buttonholes and then roll the sleeves over her sculpted forearms. Tattoos she hadn’t noticed marked the soft insides of Jo’s arms. Two crossed knives and what looked like an herb.
Aarti gave a start. She’d forgotten she was supposed to be leaving. When she looked up, Jo grinned. It seemed too late to do anything besides hope the burning tips of her ears weren’t evident.
From her bag, Jo withdrew a bandana that matched her eyes, folded it against her thigh, and tied it on like a headband. After retrieving a long black case from her duffel and the binder from the tote, she nodded. “I’m good to go. Put me to work.”
“What’s the black thing?” Anything to stop the intense eye contact.
Jo ripped open the Velcro flap. She’d slotted a dozen shiny knives under elastic straps. “My babies.” She rolled it up. “Where to?”
“I’ll give you a quick tour. Hopefully, Taylor mentioned you’ll be doing on-site catering. The rest of the crew, minus the servers, is due this morning, along with the appliances for the outdoor kitchen. You’ll be in charge of all of it.”
“Whatever you need. I’m yours this week.”
Aarti clenched her jaw as she opened the door. At any other event, she wouldn’t mind working together because she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off Jo. However, her parents would be scrutinizing her every move in the next few days, and she had important things to do. Whatever you need. I’m yours this week was the last thing she needed to hear from a woman she found attractive.
They picked their way up the path toward the contemporary house her parents had built. Had it already been a dozen years ago?
“Seating for both ceremonies will begin a few yards past the swimming pool. During the Christian ceremony, the couple will be married under an elaborate trellis with the ocean as the backdrop. Did you find the run of show in Taylor’s binder?”
Jo shaded her eyes. “Yeah, though I focused on anything food-related and only skimmed the rest.”
“That’s fine.” She glanced back. “I’ll give you an updated ROS later. I need to be down here to direct arriving deliveries this morning.”
Jo stared at the water. “I can’t get over this view. It’s gorgeous here.”
Aarti looked out over the water and took in the scenery with her. Strands escaped her ponytail and blew across her eyes. She tucked them behind her ear. “After the Christian ceremony, you’ll serve food during the intermission while we switch décor.” She gestured to the seaward side of the house. “The procession for the Hindu ceremony will start over here, meander around the exterior, and end over there.”
“What about a mandap? Are you planning to use the trellis for that, too?”
Aarti caught her toe as she cut across the lawn, but regained her balance. She stopped to look at Jo. “How do you know about that?” Most of the non-Indian Americans she knew had no idea of what took place during an Indian wedding, let alone knew the name of the structure under which the bride and groom were married.
“I was an exchange student in France my junior year. The family I lived with owned a popular Indian restaurant in the 10th Arrondissement. Their eldest daughter’s arranged marriage took place while I was there.”
“Is that how you learned to cook Indian food?”
“Yeah. I quickly learned to make the family’s favorites. When Mademoiselle Mathur noticed my interest in cooking, she took me to work with her when I wasn’t in school and taught me how to make the restaurant’s dishes.” Jo rubbed her forearm and grinned. “I didn’t have hair on my arms for months because of the tandoori oven. But I got paid in kulfi or pretty much any food I wanted.”
Her smile was pleasant, and Aarti returned it. Jo’s abdomen didn’t look like she indulged in sweets. “Ice cream, huh? You’re easy to please.” Trained in Indian cooking? She wanted to shake her head. Erin could’ve mentioned that. Still, dishes varied across India, let alone in other countries. She’d judge for herself.
“I’d like to think so. I’m pretty laid-back. Not much rattles me.”
She hoped that was the case because Jo was about to get very busy, and she’d better be able to handle it. “You say that now, but I hope you realize Indian weddings are multi-day affairs. As in, many people are going to need to eat all throughout this week. And almost nothing is more important than the quality of the food served.”
“Got it, boss.”
She prickled at the moniker. “Please call me Aarti.” It would be refreshing to hear someone use her first name, since so few did. “Here, between the house and the ocean, they’ll erect the reception tent where the guests will dine and dance. Because we’ll be so spread out, I’ll give you a walkie-talkie so we can communicate.” She headed toward the large deck off the kitchen.
“Can’t we just call each other?”
Aarti climbed the stairs. “I need instant communication. If you don’t hear your phone ring or vibrate, I can’t be running back and forth to get an ETA on the food or tell you what I need.” She gestured. “This is where you’ll set up the outdoor kitchen. The tent is almost the same size as the deck, and the wood grills and tandoori ovens can go on the pavement. All the other appliances should be electric. We’ll be using multiple generators, both here and at the reception tent.”
“What about more lighting?” Jo glanced at the two security lights below the eaves.
“You’ll also have generator-run lights, inside the tent and out, for after the sun sets.”
Jo dropped her knives and binder on the table, leaned on the railing, and looked out toward the cottage. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I’d hate to drive over four hours round trip to Manhattan each day or try to find a vacant room with such late notice.”
With the sun on her face and the wind rippling her hair, she was even more striking.
Jo turned. “I’m sure your guests are occupying most of them around here.”
Caught staring, Aarti startled. “You’re welcome. And yes, they are. Many are staying at a resort, but some opted for Airbnbs.” She looked toward the horizon. “Like you said, the view is gorgeous, and I hope you find time to enjoy it.” She faced Jo. “One thing though, while I realize there’s a lot to do, I need you to follow labor laws, both for yourself and those working for you.”
“Not an issue. My staff would tell you I’m a stickler about that.” Jo folded her arms. “There’s a difference between being laid-back and taking advantage of people. But if I feel the work can’t be done with the number of people I’m given, we’ll have to discuss bringing on another person or two.”
While she agreed, Aarti didn’t want the cost of the event to increase. Showing her parents she could operate under budget was essential. Taylor hadn’t charged them for her role, calling it her wedding gift, and Aarti doubted she’d rescind her offer because she couldn’t personally cater it. Jackson was her cousin, after all—favorite cousin, Erin had said. And he’d told Aarti that Taylor had been the person who supported him the most after his accident.
“Do you think the staff we have can handle food for six hundred and forty-five guests?” She kept her expression stoic.
Jo swayed and grasped the railing. “Taylor said a hundred.”
“Just testing your inability to be rattled.” Aarti grinned. “Yes, it’ll be around a hundred guests. Ready to see the main kitchen?”
Jo blew out a breath and slapped her hand over her heart. “The restaurant only does a hundred and fifty covers on a busy night. You scared me. Mean.” She winked and picked up her belongings.
Not mean, but against her better judgment when she needed to keep things professional. What had possessed her to flirt, especially being so out of practice? At least Jo’s wink had held amusement.
* * *
Aarti’s parents had remodeled the kitchen last winter, though they claimed it wasn’t because of Maya’s nuptials. She knew better. They went to great lengths for their younger daughter who did no wrong.
Yesterday, Aarti had brightened the lifeless stainless steel appliances and granite countertops with large bowls of lemons and limes, and arranged overflowing bunches of cilantro on the island workstation, in the small breakfast nook, and on the sideboard coffee station. A citrusy fragrance filled the air.
“You can leave your things here. Family members might pop in to make themselves coffee or tea, but no one will disturb them. And there’s a mini fridge with milk and creamer,” she opened a cupboard, “so they have no excuse to be underfoot over there.”
Jo wandered around the island. She opened the refrigerator, glanced inside, then closed the door. She gestured toward the pantry with its frosted glass window. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
Jo stepped inside. “Wow. This is half the square footage of my apartment.”
She laughed. “Obnoxious, isn’t it? If my parents ever filled it, they’d look like those people with bunkers loaded for the apocalypse. At least you’ll have plenty of room for the dried, canned, and jarred goods.” She grew serious. “Which reminds me. I have until two today to place my food order for a next-day delivery. Let me get my laptop so we can determine what you need.”
Jo shut the pantry. “I made a list last night, so you’ll just have to input the items.”
Aarti stared at her. “What time did Erin call you?”
“I don’t know.” Jo shrugged. “Five?”
Impressed only scratched the surface. “You somehow wrote your order, packed, and arranged a rental car between five and whenever you went to bed?”
Jo tilted her head. “No, I worked last night and didn’t get out of there until eleven, so I did it after that.”
“I appreciate your initiative.” She touched Jo’s arm to convey her sincerity. “That’s enormously helpful. May I see it?”
While Jo found her list, Aarti ducked into the formal dining room to retrieve her laptop. Neat piles of paper covered the table. While the arrangement might not make sense to anyone else, it did to her. She’d threatened her family, including Jackson, if they moved anything.
When she returned, Jo sat at the banquette in the breakfast nook. She’d laid out two sheets filled with small, neat handwriting.
Jo turned the lists toward her. “Taylor said the wedding cake and the Indian sweets were special order.”
“Yes, and the chocolate truffles. But you don’t have to worry about those.”
“Not even plating them?”
“Nope. I’ve hired an Indian bakery. What they can’t make ahead, they’ll finish on site. For instance, they’ll serve the gulab jamun and halwa hot. I plan to station the two of them in the downstairs kitchenette so you won’t be competing for space.”
Jo’s expression held a hint of amusement. “Of course, there’s another kitchen. And the wedding cake?”
“I’ve hired a bakery that blends Eastern and Western concepts. Maya and Jackson chose a pistachio-flavored cake with mango filling and saffron buttercream. The bakers will cover it with edible paper designs resembling the henna patterns brides have painted on their skin.”
“Sounds delicious.” Jo leaned forward. “I hope I get to try it.”
Aarti smiled. “With kulfi?”
Jo licked her bottom lip. “I never turn down ice cream.”
Aarti thanked Krishna she was sitting, or her knees would have given out at the sight of Jo’s tongue making that sensual sweep. She pulled up the food distributor’s website. “In the meantime, use what you find in the cupboards, refrigerator, and pantry. I want you to prepare six Indian dishes, all savory. I’d like three of them to be vegetarian. The others may contain chicken, turkey, or fish.”
“Why those three?” Jo didn’t seem to flinch at being asked to cook on the spot.
“Because I’ll be the one determining how well you cook Indian food, and those are my preferred animal proteins.” She began to input the order.
Jo hadn’t moved. “Are you sure? I make a great goat—”
“I’m a cardiologist, and I’ve seen enough heart disease. I eat those three.” It came out sharper than intended.
Jo’s back hit the banquette. “You’re a doctor?”
She seemed to care more about that than which types of meat have the most saturated fat.
“Yes.” Aarti typed basmati rice in the search field.
“Planning a wedding, let alone two, is an enormous task. What made you offer to do that for your sister?” Jo shook her head, as though in disbelief.
Afraid of making an error on the order under Jo’s questioning, or simply by her presence, she pushed her laptop away. They didn’t need enough rice to feed all of East Hampton. “I didn’t. I’ve been an event planner for a few weddings, and I’ve done other events as well. It’s always something I’ve been interested in.”
“But you became a cardiologist.” Jo’s eyes narrowed.
Aarti refused to have a prolonged conversation about this volatile topic in her parents’ kitchen. “I’m the Indian daughter of two surgeons. And the eldest, which comes with even greater pressure.” She shifted in her seat. “So, it’s complicated. Now, how about those dishes?”
Jo seemed to take the hint. “Got it. Sorry, boss—Aarti.” She stood. “Do you have any requests? Most of what I know how to make are North Indian dishes. Are those acceptable?”
Aarti tapped the touch pad to wake the screen. “Yes. I gave you my requirements. The remaining decisions are yours.” She wanted to see how Jo responded, if the head of her catering team could think on her feet.
Within minutes, Jo had emptied the refrigerator of half its contents. Aarti hadn’t moved. She hadn’t even looked away, though the island had blocked most of her view of Jo’s jean-clad lower half. All her stuff was in the dining room, but something made her stay besides being able to watch the driveway for deliveries. She rested her chin in her hand. Besides flirting like a hormonal teen, something made her want to be near Jo.