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“My dear, this was just wonderful. Thank you for everything.” She hands me a string of pearls off the main table. “Do you do weddings as well?”
“Do you have another son getting married that I didn’t know about?” I tease, taking the string and packing it into a box to hide my expression. I don’t want Caroline to know how desperate I am to hear what she has to say—even though I haven’t done one since I started my own business, I cut my event-planning teeth on weddings up in Seattle. Until everything went south with the agency, I’d been building a reputation as an up-and-coming wedding planner in the city.
Mrs. Springer laughs. “You know Angela Wright—the one who just couldn’t help it when the sunlight caught her ring and blinded us all—anyway, her mother was just telling me they are on the lookout for a wedding planner.”
I straighten and turn to face her. “I love doing weddings. I haven’t done one since I moved down here, but please give her my number.” As long as she doesn’t want the wedding to be before next February, I should be able to manage it.
When I started my business, I hadn’t expected to be hired for so many corporate gigs—particularly so many corporate holiday parties. Today’s shower kicks off a three-month rush of events and parties. Almost all of my weekends between now and New Year’s are booked solid.
Caroline pats my arm. “I will. And now I’ll get out of your hair and leave you to it.” She waltzes out of the room in a cloud of perfume and cashmere, calling out to someone as she clears the door.
I glance at my watch as she leaves, groaning when I see there are only about fifteen minutes before I’m supposed to have everything cleared out so they can open the tasting room. There’s an untouched slice of cake sitting on the table in front of me, and my stomach growls at the sight. Snagging the plate, I promise myself just two minutes of rest before I finish cleaning up.
“Maggie?”
I nearly choke on the mouthful of cake and frosting I’d just shoveled in my mouth as Jackie calls to me from the other end of the tasting room. “Do you need some help?”
I don’t want to accept her help, but a quick glance around the room proves that I’ll need it if I’m going to get out of here on time. And since I’d love to use this place for future events, I need to make a good impression.
“I would love a hand, if you can spare one.” I set the cake down on the table, promising to come back to it before I head home.
“I can spare a few, I think.” Jackie looks around at the large space. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”
She disappears through the back door marked “Employees only,” and I push myself to my feet. First things first, I need to change out of these heels. Shoes swapped, I grab a trash bag and start a sweep from the back of the room.
“Olive, why don’t you go help Maggie with the trash, and I’ll start with the pumpkins. Kel, you can start with the tables.” Jackie sweeps back into the room, Olive and Kel on her heels.
“Hi, Maggie! Grandma Jackie said you needed help, so I’m here to be your super helper.” Olive rushes over to me and starts picking up bits of wrapping paper and tossing them in my open bag. She’s got a streak of dirt on her cheek that wasn’t there this morning, and the knees of her leggings are brown—exactly how I imagine a kid should look running around this place.
I can’t help glancing at her father as he folds up the spare chairs and pulls tables back into their usual spots. He also has dirt streaked on his face and clothes, and dried sweat marks etched into the dust on the side of his neck. Whatever they’ve been doing for the last two hours looks like it was hard work.
“What have you and your dad been up to?” I ask as Olive gathers up a stack of dirty plates from the fireplace and tosses them in my bag. If Sunshine Cellars had a proper kitchen, I would have opted for real plates instead of plastic, but I made some concessions in favor of putting less strain on Jackie. And myself.
“We were down on the south hill. Daddy’s clearing that field, and there’s lots of big rocks and tree stumps to dig up. I was his helper.” She grins up at me before swiping a blob of frosting off the plate in her hands and sticking it in her mouth.
Horrified at the dirt visible on her finger as she pulls it out, I snatch a napkin off the table and hand it to her. “Girly, you better wash your hands before you try that again. There’s a few slices left—if your dad says it’s okay you can have one when we finish.” I shudder and Olive giggles.
“I thought that frosting tasted funny.” She examines her finger, the wet digit a mix of creamy white frosting and brown streaks. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”
“Pickle, you do not need cake.” Kel glares at me from across the room. “Did you forget about the deal we made this morning?”
Deal? I don’t remember making any kind of deal with Mr. Grumpypants. I open my mouth to argue, but Olive saves me from sticking my foot in it when she answers.
“I know, I know. Veggies for lunch because we had pancakes for breakfast.” Olive glances at the slices of cake still on the table. “What if we saved it for tomorrow?”
Kel doesn’t answer her as he lifts one of the smaller two-person tables over his head. He doesn’t even grunt, just swings it up as if it weighs nothing. The muscles in his back flex as he carries it over to the side of the room and sets it beside the picture window.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He turns to face me and Olive. “You eat your veggies without a fuss for lunch and dinner, and we get the south hill cleared, and you can have a slice of cake tomorrow.”
Olive runs over and does a complicated handshake with Kel, grinning and promising to eat so many vegetables she bursts. Who would have thought that asshole had such a soft spot for his kid?
Kel
Olive dances around me, picking up random bits of trash and decor as Jackie, Maggie, and I finish setting the tasting room back to rights. It’s past opening when we finish, but the cloudy skies are keeping people at home for the moment. I glance out the window, praying for the rain to stay away.
The guys I hired to help me harvest don’t arrive until tomorrow, and the last thing I need is for the fields to be a muddy mess while we work. They were supposed to be here today, but the winery they were working south of here needed them to stay an extra day. If Greg asked, Theodore Sutton could throw enough money around to get any crew we wanted, but Greg’s run this place his way for over twenty years. He isn’t about to change it now.
I set the box in my arms down by the main doors. “Can you bring your car around so we can load up the back?” The mountain of boxes and bags is almost as tall as Olive. How did the woman fit this all in her car?
