The Diva Takes the Cake

by Davis, Krista

  Mars’s expression of disgust turned to amusement. “Nat’s not going to be happy when she realizes she lost her boy toy.” He cocked his head toward Kevin, who was gazing at Darby with more than a passing interest.

  “At least someone is happy,” I grumbled. “You’re upset with Natasha, Phoebe and Joel aren’t speaking, my relationship with Wolf is down the tubes, and poor Humphrey’s hopes have been dashed—altogether a lousy weekend for relationships.”

  Our workers scattered to rest, shower, and dress for the wedding. Near the hydrangea that climbed the wall of the potting shed, Hannah and Craig shared a romantic kiss that made me itch to get into Craig’s room again to find out if the diamond necklace was still in his pocket. I sprinted to the house, but the two of them followed. Puttering around the kitchen, I surreptitiously kept tabs on Craig. When he called Hannah and Jen into the living room, I thought my chance had arrived and I started up the stairs. Unfortunately, Mom spotted me and pulled me into the living room with the rest of my family.

  In front of his little audience, Craig said, “I want to apologize for leaving yesterday. I know this won’t make it up to you but I wanted you to have these.” He handed Hannah and Jen white boxes.

  Jen ripped hers open faster than I’d have thought possible. “Ohhh, it matches my dress.” She lifted a small silver tiara set with faceted rose and clear crystals and placed it carefully on top of her auburn hair. Twirling like a ballerina, she asked, “Do I look like a princess?”

  I had ordered a special crown of pink and white roses for Jen to wear, pinned on with sparkly hair ornaments. I hated for it to go to waste, but Craig’s heart was in the right place.

  Hannah lifted a similar but larger tiara from her box. I had to hand it to Craig, the tiaras were the perfect touch of bling. Not too flashy or pretentious and they fit the pink theme of the wedding.

  Tears rolled down Hannah’s cheeks, and I thought I might be ill at the way she gazed adoringly at Craig. I turned to find Humphrey looking as sick as I felt.

  “We have to put a stop to this,” he muttered as we retreated to the kitchen where Wanda watched Mochie eat kibble out of an open-toed white satin shoe adorned by a swirl of Swarovski crystals. I’d been with Hannah when she paid a small fortune for them.

  “What on earth?” I reached out to rescue the shoe, but Wanda caught my arm.

  “Don’t disturb him. It’s good luck to have a house cat eat out of your shoe.”

  “Is it bad luck if he chews up the shoe?” I asked.

  Wanda clucked at me. “Don’t be silly. Cats don’t chew shoes like dogs do. And the way things have been going, poor Hannah needs all the good luck she can get. Natasha even hung a rosary over the door for good weather.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I banged into that thing this morning.”

  Wanda smiled. “But the weather is great. Natasha is hanging a horseshoe out back right now.”

  If I knew Natasha, she was ripping out all our hard work and replacing everything with feathers. Ignoring Humphrey’s pleas for my attention, I whipped outside, Daisy running alongside me, and barged into the backyard.

  To my utter amazement, Natasha was draping boxwood swags on the shed, attaching them with light pink grosgrain ribbon. I sputtered, at a complete loss for words.

  “I hope you don’t mind my dressing up the shed. It’s so plain.”

  On the window facing the wedding arch, she’d hung a large heart-shaped wreath covered with blooms of pink in every conceivable shade and shape. I had filled the window box below weeks ago, but now a horseshoe nestled, open side up, among the rambling petunias.

  At this point, I felt decorating the shed was overkill, but it seemed entirely too ungracious and unkind to say so.

  “No feathers?” I asked.

  Natasha stopped fussing with the swag. “Honestly, Sophie, I don’t know how you deal with vendors all the time. They promised me they’d be at the hotel early this morning, but when they arrived and realized no functions would be held there, they took my feathers back to the warehouse and didn’t even bother to call me. They’re supposed to be here any minute, but I have my doubts.”

  I wanted to chew her out again, but at this point the yard was decorated to the hilt and I couldn’t imagine where she thought she could use feathers. I thought I might get further with praise. “Thanks for the swags on the shed. They must have been a lot of work.”

  “You’re the only one who appreciates my efforts.”

  If only she would appreciate my efforts. “I think everything looks absolutely perfect just the way it is. I wouldn’t add another thing.”

  I spoke firmly, hoping she would get my message. Daisy and I returned to the kitchen, where Mom and Wanda sorted through place cards, trying to figure out who was still in town.

  Tucker slouched in one of the chairs by the fireplace and held a bag of frozen peas to his head. “Soph, sweetheart, could I trouble you for some aspirin?”

  I fetched the bottle and handed it to him with a glass of water. “Too much partying last night? Craig was up early.”

  “Speak softly, please. Craig wussed out and left. I spent the wee hours of the morning with the hardy boys—Uncle Stan, Kevin, Joel, and a few other lads.”

  “Not Robert?”

  “He took off. Got any hair of the dog? Scotch would be nice.”

  Wanda patted his shoulder. “I’ll make you my special tonic.”

  I crouched next to Tucker. He wasn’t doing his job. I hadn’t lured him to Hannah so he could party all night. “This is your last chance to woo Hannah away from Craig.”

  “As soon as my head clears.”

  Wanda mixed tomato juice with clam juice, added a generous dose of Tabasco sauce, then whisked in a raw egg. “This never fails.” She handed him the drink.

  Tucker choked on the first sip. “That’s brutal.”

  None of us had any sympathy for him.

  Humphrey sidled up to me. “Could I please have a moment?”

  But I ignored him when I saw Natasha leading men past the kitchen door. Visions of feathers propelled me outside, but it was worse than I imagined. She was bringing the ice lounge into my already crowded backyard.

  “Excuse me. Stop!” I shouted, but they kept going with gigantic blocks of ice.

  “It’s okay, Sophie,” called Natasha. “They’re bringing in the bar.” Waving her arms and shouting directions like a crazed traffic cop, she directed two men to place the blocks of ice ten feet from the dinner tables and another two men to set the wedding cake she’d baked as a gift to Hannah a bit farther into the yard.

  Natasha flicked her hands at me. “You’d better shower. I’ll handle this end of it.”

  Had she intentionally waited to bring her contributions when we had finished and no one was watching?

  There was no way her ice lounge would fit. But I had to tackle one problem at a time. The round table holding Natasha’s four-tier cake sat squarely in the sun. As if it weren’t enough to bake the cake herself, she’d also made the monogram topper linking H and C. Silver crystals sparkled on the initials.

  “The cake is going to melt there,” I said. Blunt, but to the point and not argumentative.

  “But the ice lounge has to be in the shade.”

  Just the opening I needed. “The cake is more important than an ice lounge.” I murmured, “Besides, there’s not room for it.”

  A voice rang out of the sky. Natasha and I turned our faces upward.

  Hannah leaned out the window in Jen’s room. “I love it! The ice bar stays, Sophie.”

  Natasha smiled at me. A condescending I-win-again smile that irritated me.

  Happily, I recognized the guys assembling the bar. At lightning speed, I ran past Humphrey and out to the street where I found Laurie, owner of the ice sculpture company. We’d worked together before on events, in fact, I had ordered our martini luges from her.

  “Please tell me you don’t have the rest of the ice lounge in your truck.”

&nb
sp; “What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you merging functions with Natasha?”

  I explained the situation, and she agreed that the ice lounge would not be a good idea in my crowded backyard.

  “What about the sculpture Natasha ordered?” Laurie pulled back a freezer blanket that wrapped a cupid sculpted from ice.

  What was with the hearts and cupid? Did Natasha not realize that Hannah had a stargazer lily theme? “Will it fit on the bar?”

  “It’ll be a tight squeeze with your martini luges, but she ordered the biggest bar we offer.”

  At that moment, Darby walked down the street from Natasha’s house, a delivery van drove up and blocked traffic, and Natasha emerged from my backyard.

  “Is that the cutest thing,” gushed Natasha. “I love the cupid.”

  Darby chimed in. “Adorable. And so perfect for a wedding. What a clever idea. Did you order that, Natasha? No wonder you have a TV show. You’re so original.”

  Horns honked and some guy shouted out his car window. Oblivious, the truck driver hauled out a box.

  Natasha crowed, “My feathers! Take them inside, please.”

  Sometimes it’s just best to acknowledge that you’ve been licked and give in. “Just the sculpture then.” I followed Laurie’s crew to the backyard to be sure Natasha didn’t give her a hard time about the rest of the lounge she’d ordered.

  The ice bar had been assembled on top of a light box fitted with a tray. A pump hidden under a table on the side of the bar would suck water out of the tray as it melted and the light box would illuminate the bar.

  Brawny guys lifted the cupid and set it in the center of the bar as Natasha rounded the corner with a skinny five-foot-tall vase filled with gigantic ostrich plumes. “Aren’t these perfect centerpieces?”

  The table had already been set with lavish white peonies in short vases. Humphrey and Joel, neither dressed for the wedding, placed more of the mirrors between the flowers and glass votives. The lush peonies already infused the reception area with their sweet, clean scent.

  “They’re too tall, Natasha. The slightest breeze will knock them over.” They might have been impressive in her hotel ballroom setting, but they couldn’t have been more wrong for a garden wedding.

  A rapping sound interrupted my thoughts, and Daisy barked at something behind me. I turned to see Tucker in the sunroom, brandishing some kind of weapon in one hand and pretending to fence, while eating what looked suspiciously like our chocolate truffle favors with the other.

  Natasha huffed and ignored me, still carrying around her gigantic feather centerpiece.

  It seemed like hundreds of details flashed through my head every minute, and I wished I weren’t wasting time on Natasha’s nonsense. I hurried to the house to retrieve the cake knife and server of ornate sterling, one of the few items my grandparents had brought from Germany. Mom dragged them out for every special occasion. The long blade had been honed to a sharp point over the generations, but it connected us as a family. I found them in the sunroom, where the cake would have rested safely out of the heat.

  When I returned to the yard and set them on the table next to the wedding cake, the two martini luges I had ordered had been positioned on opposite ends of Natasha’s ice bar. It was crowded, though, with the cupid in the middle, and I walked away when Natasha fussed over the placement of the cupid.

  Uncle Stan and Robert rounded the corner, still dressed in casual clothes. “Need a hand?” asked Robert. “No charge!”

  I enlisted their help in setting out place cards, and we were almost finished when I heard a crash.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  From “THE GOOD LIFE”:

  Dear Sophie,

  My great-grandmother’s diamond pin would be perfect on my son’s fiancée’s wedding dress, but I’m not ready to part with the brooch. I would be thrilled for her to wear it, but how do I tell her I want it back?

  —Mother of the Groom in Mount Crawford

  Dear Mother,

  Surprise her with the pin and include a note welcoming her to the family. Explain that the pin is to serve as “something borrowed.” I can think of few lovelier ways to let her know she’s a trusted member of your family now.

  —Sophie

  Natasha squealed and cupped her hands over her mouth. The cupid sculpture lay at her feet in large shards, surrounded by tiny diamondlike bits. I dashed to the basement and retrieved two coolers. If the ice melted, the guests would have to stand on a soggy lawn to get drinks.

  Natasha kneeled next to me and helped with the laborious task of picking up chunks and bits of ice and putting them into the coolers. I fought the urge to say something nasty. It wouldn’t change anything.

  Rushing, we dragged the coolers to the shed. I opened the door for Natasha and heard her shriek.

  Peering inside, I made out Wanda and Robert in a clutch so passionate I felt like I’d intruded on something that ought to be private. What was it about the potting shed that made everyone so amorous?

  Natasha rarely lost her composure, but her throat muscles grew taut and her shoulders trembled. She sucked in air and pulled the cooler into the shed. Standing up straight, she wiped a strand of hair out of her face and hissed, “Mother! You have no idea what I went through to sweet-talk Mordecai out of his house to meet you. Meanwhile, you’re sneaking around in a garden shed like a hormone-crazed teenager.”

  “I can’t imagine what you thought I would see in a man who dresses in sixties clothing and carries a little dog with him everywhere like a doll,” Wanda shot back.

  “He owns one of the most fabulous houses in Old Town.” Natasha’s cheek pulsed as she glanced at Robert. “You couldn’t have fallen for the doctor?”

  Although their squabble provided amusing entertainment, I didn’t have time to hang around. I needed to shower and change. I left Natasha to pull the other cooler into the shed while I threw an outdoor rug over the wet spot left by the broken cupid and hurried inside to change.

  White-coated catering employees had taken over my kitchen. In the midst of the confusion, the florist handed me Hannah’s bouquet of pink roses and stargazer lilies. He had slipped diamondlike crystals into the center of each rose, and the entire bouquet sparkled.

  I wedged it into the refrigerator and raced for the stairs. But once I passed the clanking and bustle in the kitchen, an eerie quiet possessed the house in spite of all the people in it. Something was wrong.

  An angry male voice drifted to me. On the third floor, I found Phoebe and Craig standing outside the door to Hannah’s room.

  “She won’t let me in,” he said.

  “I’ve told him she’s already in her wedding gown,” explained Phoebe. “Hannah doesn’t want him to see her until she walks down the aisle.”

  From the other side of the door Hannah yelled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Craig leaned his head against the door. “Please come out here. I need to see your face.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Phoebe thrust a sheet of paper at me. Written on hotel stationery, it read, “Sweetest Hannah, How I’ve longed to be in your embrace again. I treasure the hours we spent together yesterday and cannot bear to imagine life without you. Come away with me, dearest, and we shall bask in romantic bliss. Yours forever, Tucker.”

  Hannah continued to protest her innocence from behind the door.

  Craig swung around to face me. “Were they together while I was gone? Tell me!”

  Time crawled to a slow tick while I considered my options. If I said Tucker and Hannah had gone off together, would Craig leave? A darker notion made me nix that idea. If he’d killed Emily, he might murder Hannah out of jealousy. On the other hand, this did seem to be an opportunity to throw a wedge between them.

  Hannah solved my dilemma by insisting that she loved Craig, and if she was going to have an affair, she’d do it with someone more interesting than Tucker. That wasn’t quite true. Bad boy Tucker won over Humphrey in the interes
ting category, but she’d been caught in a compromising kiss with bland Humphrey.

  Hannah’s sarcasm appeared to alleviate Craig’s concerns. He stomped down the stairs to the foyer, and we heard the front door slam shut.

  I read the message again. I’d hoped Tucker would cause problems between Hannah and Craig, but this was far better than I’d imagined. Guilt nagged at me for luring him to my house. If I knew Tucker the way I thought I did, he was up to something.

  Phoebe rapped on the door and assured Hannah that Craig had left. I was trotting down the stairs to my bedroom when I heard a shout. Would there be no end to the minor crises?