Always the Bridesmaid. Nina Harrington
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‘Bridezillas. Elspeth is quite capable of handling the work—but she has my telephone number if she needs it. And I have Lucy’s box.’ Amy waved it triumphantly towards Frank, before pulling the squashed cushions out from beneath her top. ‘Sorry, Jarella. What’s next?’
It was Jared who answered.
‘Apart from ten hours’ sleep? Coffee, telephones, a photocopier and a computer. It appears that I have a wedding to organise.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘THAT’S ten strawberry tarts, twelve apple strudel, and six fresh cream chocolate éclairs. Well, that should keep you going, girls! Just pop back if you need more.’
Amy passed the emergency order to the two waitresses from the French pavement café down the road, and held open the shop door. Their jovial teenage chatter echoed around the warm room and blended with the traffic noise from the busy London street on the other side of the glass this lovely Saturday morning.
Both girls were dressed in the kind of pretty printed cotton dresses with thin spaghetti straps that she used to wear every summer in her old life. Sunlight flooded through the pristine glass windows and reflected back from the cream walls onto the warm terracotta floor tiles. It would be heaven to simply strip off her chef’s jacket and spend the rest of the day in a tiny top. Except, of course, she had thrown or given away all her tankinis and strappy dresses.
Anything that would have revealed the scarring which stretched down the centre of her chest.
The palm of her hand pressed down on the raised ridge of skin below her T-shirt and jacket. The plastic surgeon in Chicago had suggested that she should think of it as a medal.
A souvenir for a survivor.
And she was a survivor. At least he had got that bit right.
A familiar lump thickened in Amy’s throat as she looked back into the shop area, bustling with customers and bright chatter.
This was her home now, and her sanctuary. Her dream of making Edlers the place she had known as a girl had become a reality. This was where she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Safe, secure, running her own business, with her friends in the community around her.
This was where she could offer a child a loving home—just as the Edler family had done for her when her own parents died.
And that was worth every scrap of energy in her body.
Trixi sidled up next to her and flung an arm around her shoulder.
‘Two more hot chefs at the back door, boss, panting for their orders. No sign of that blond bloke from yesterday yet. Is he likely to turn up today?’
‘Oh, yes. He’ll turn up. At least, I hope he will.’
The sound of trance dance music hit Jared like a wall as he stepped through the curtain into Amy’s kitchen. It was almost noon on a Saturday morning, the sun was shining, and the beat was making the walls and floor throb. Just like his head.
If only he hadn’t decided to lie down on the sofa after dinner he could have been working through the photocopy of the wedding plan back in his air-conditioned apartment at that very second.
In control and in his own space. Which was precisely how he liked it.
Instead of which he would have to go down on bended knee and beg this girl to take pity and let him off the hook. He knew his strengths. Coming up with a comprehensive schedule of works for a building project was one thing—planning a wedding was something else.
If you wanted a job done, you hired a professional.
Through his sunglasses he could make out that Amy was alone. She appeared to be jogging between two long tables covered with trays and boxes, furiously writing on printed sheets on a clipboard. Where were all the other chefs?
‘Morning,’ he offered with a smile. No response. ‘Good morning,’ he bellowed, standing only feet away from Amy. At that precise moment the teenage girl he remembered as Trixi appeared from a door at the other end of the room and turned the volume down on the stereo.
Amy’s head shot up, and she gave him the kind of smile that creased the corners of her mouth and made a direct hit in his solar plexus.
‘No need to shout. I’m right here. And good morning to you, Mr Shaw. I expected to see you at the crack of dawn.’
There was a certain gentle warmth in her voice, as though she might actually be pleased to see him again. Maybe the day was not completely lost after all.
‘Sorry about that. My body clock hasn’t re-set yet.’
‘You don’t need to apologise,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Yesterday was quite a day.’
The muscles of his face relaxed a little. This woman was a saint! The hard fluorescent lighting in the room focused the shadows of her high cheekbones and pale skin. In another time, on another day, Jared thought, it might have been fun to show this woman some sunshine. Perhaps a picnic, or a boat trip down the Thames?
With a bit of luck she might even remove some of those layers of clothing. His linen shirt was already starting to cling to his back, despite the heavy-duty air-conditioning unit clattering away very noisily in the corner. She had to be roasting under that high-neck T-shirt.
Amy waved her clipboard in his direction. ‘Saturday happens to be my busiest day, so there’s not a lot of time for chatter while I get the orders prepped. I appreciate the apology, but I know you only came here to collect the pink box.’
He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it closed again as Amy tapped her pen several times against her chin before grinning at him.
‘I have decided that there could be one or two small details on the wedding plan which you could check for me. If you think you can manage it?’ she said.
Jared pursed his lips and sighed loudly. ‘You do know that I have zero experience in anything wedding-related, don’t you? I could even be a liability!’
‘No, you won’t. Just think of it as another project to plan. You’ll be fine!’
His grimace must have been the answer Amy needed, and she gestured towards the small circular table furthest from the ovens and the work area.
‘You’ll find what you need on the table over there. I’ve already cross-referenced the details on the master checklist to a printout of names and addresses. Not all of the suppliers are open on Saturdays, so I focused on the names I recognised, and I’ve written notes on everyone I could speak to in person at this time of the morning.’
‘And…?’ Jared tried to remember that he was supposed to be taking charge. So much for his cunning plan. Amy Edler was already way ahead of him!
She decided to put him out of his misery.
‘Relax, Jared. So far all the items I’ve checked are still on schedule. You can breathe again.’ She nodded her head towards the table and curled her lips. ‘There are two names we need to talk to as soon as possible. I started with the hotel, but they have a celebrity wedding this morning, so their events planner had already left for the church, to make sure everything went smoothly.’
She spotted the expression on Jared’s face and immediately tried to calm him. ‘Don’t panic. According to the manager, the Shaw-Gerard wedding is booked and confirmed for next Saturday. But I don’t have any details, so that needs to be checked out—I suggest Monday morning. Everyone is going to be run ragged today.’
He snorted. ‘You’ve got that right. Okay. You’re busy. I have the rest of the day. Why don’t you leave me to start work on the rest? I have my laptop, two phones, and transport if needed. What do you say?’ Jared looked up, half expecting an instant rebuff, but it never came.
‘I say fine. There’s a fax machine and a photocopier upstairs in my flat if it becomes too noisy.