Page 3 of A Newport Christmess

“I don’t remember seeing it ...” I put the phone on speaker and opened my email app, scrolling through the countless unopened emails that plagued my inbox. Sure enough, there it was. Sender: Irene Garrity. Subject: Aker/Carrigan Wedding. Please respond at your earliest convenience. “Found it. Sorry, I’m not super great at checking my emails.”

Silence.

I cleared my throat. “But I can check them more often if I need to.”

“I would appreciate it, Ms. Cook. That way, we have our communications documented, and nothing gets missed.”

Ashlee smirked from across the kitchen, and I scowled at her. Responsiveness was certainly not my strong suit, like it was hers. Neither was organization. Actually, my list of non-strengths was pretty extensive. “Great idea.”

“If you will respond to my email as soon as possible with all the supplies you’ll require, I think all I need from you now are your intended dates to travel so I can book your flights.”

“Oh, I won’t need to fly. Newport is only an hour and a half from where I live.”

The silence on the line returned with an awkward vengeance.

I sent Ashlee an uneasy glance. “I promise I’ll be careful getting the gingerbread houses there. My friend already agreed to let me borrow her SUV—”

“Aren’t you from San Diego, Ms. Cook?”

“I am.”

“The wedding is in Newport ... Rhode Island. I don’t think you’ll want to drive.”

“Rhode Island?” I stared at the phone. “As in one of the thirteen colonies, Rhode Island?”

“That’s the one,” she said dryly, not even a little impressed with my sixth-grade knowledge of the state.

My mind skimmed over the brief communications I’d had with Nikki. “But I thought the wedding was going to be in Newport Beach. Isn’t Nikki from Orange County?”

“She lives there now, but she grew up in Rhode Island.”

I gave an absent nod, mouth open in dismay, only slightly aware that Ms. Garrity couldn’t hear my response.

“The location of the wedding was on the electronic contract you signed.” She paused. “If you cared to read it, that is.”

Curse words. But honestly, who reads those things? “I didn’t notice that. Which is totally my fault, but I can’t do the centerpieces if the wedding is in Rhode Island. They’ll take me weeks to create ... and I would need to be there the whole time. And I’d need a kitchen ... and all the supplies.”

“I’ll see to the arrangements.” Ms. Garrity cleared her throat. “Though perhaps Ms. Aker will understand if you need to back out because of extenuating circumstances.” Had I imagined it, or was there a touch of hope in her voice?

I glanced at Ashlee for an answer, but she only shrugged. “Can you hold a moment, Ms. Garrity?” I asked.

The woman exhaled sharply. “Of course.”

I lowered the phone, hastily pressing mute, before sending Ashlee a pleading look. “What would you do?”

She shook her head, obviously unwilling to influence me.

I tilted my head back in disbelief. “You know how bad I am at making decisions.”

Her lips were firmly pressed together.

“Please?”

She huffed. “Fine. Since you already committed to it, if it were me, I’d do it.”

I stared at her, unblinking. “You’d just fly across the country to somewhere you’ve never been, all by yourself, at Christmas?”

She flung up a hand and gave a sardonic laugh. “Then, don’t do it. At least that way, we can spend Christmas together.”