Winter at Cedarwood Lodge

by Rebecca Raisin

  “Surely he could have left one day later!” Amory’s eyes flashed, and her raised voice carried down the hall.

  Cruz coughed, clearing his throat. “Ladies, I can help, if you’re in a bind. I’m sure I can work out what Georges has done…”

  Relief hit me. Hadn’t he been a chef once upon a time?

  “Really? Oh, Cruz, you’re a total lifesaver!” I was ready to bow at his feet. “OK, Georges said most of the canapés are prepared. I’ll go over the menu with you, and then leave you to it?”

  “Sure,” he smiled warmly, like he’d relish the challenge.

  My heart beat staccato, disaster averted. But it had been another close call and my heart was feeling the damage. “Actually, Amory, could you help Cruz? There’s some brand-new chef whites in the storeroom cupboard. Maybe some of them will fit?”

  She squinted at me, but stayed silent.

  Cruz rolled up his sleeves. “OK, my love, show me the way.”

  While I double-checked the menus, and wrote notes for Cruz, they walked away together, Amory speaking quickly about the various dishes we’d planned alongside Georges. I couldn’t help but stop and watch them for a beat. They worked so well together in a crisis, their own worries shelved.

  A few minutes later they returned and we chatted about the plan, and what time service would be. Cruz looked every inch a chef with his immaculate whites on, and I couldn’t help but notice how at ease he seemed at being thrust into a last minute situation.

  “OK, well, if you’re confident with all of that, Cruz, I’ll leave you to it?”

  “Sure, sure,” he smiled, tying his apron strings. “I’ll be fine, Clio.”

  They huddled by the fridge, heads bent, surveying the contents. If all else failed, throw them together – didn’t that always work in romantic comedies? Surely if they could solve the missing-chef dilemma, they could solve anything!

  Following in the wake of Aunt Bessie’s sugary-sweet perfume, I found her chatting to the florist while she set up her donut table. The donuts were cooling in the fridge, but she had elaborate stands for them, which she placed on the beautiful linen tablecloth. When she caught my eye she excused herself and sauntered over, her hips swinging in her Dolly-esque way. “I’ve been chatting to the other vendors from town and they’re thrilled you invited them here today. And I said, well, of course you would! That you’re planning to use them whenever you can. What?” she asked. “What’s that line between your eyes for?” She rubbed the spot, as if she could erase it, making my frown deepen. I filled her in on the Georges debacle, her eyes wide with shock.

  “He just upped and left?”

  I nodded. “It was a requirement of the job that he start pronto.”

  She let out a breath. “Well, at least you’ve got a backup. How lucky are you?”

  “Very.”

  “Take some deep breaths, baby girl. You’ve got this. It’s going to be a huge success, I just know it. Mom sends her apologies, she had… other things to do today.”

  “Like?” Washing, cleaning, and gardening in the snow…

  “Well,” Aunt Bessie bumbled along. “You know, just things. Anyway, we’ll have Christmas Day together, right? You’ll come to me this year for lunch.”

  Neutral territory. We both knew Mom wouldn’t step foot on Cedarwood soil, and Aunt Bessie knew I’d probably give all of us food poisoning if I attempted to cook. “I’d love that. Our first Christmas together in six years…”

  Isla and Micah waved me over.

  “You’d better go,” Aunt Bessie said, pecking me on the cheek, and giving my butt a slap for good measure as I wandered away, her cackle following me. I shook my head, and laughed.

  “Guys, you look great!” After working this morning, they’d dashed upstairs to change. They were helping serve today, and would then take the brides on a tour of the estate, pointing out the various activities on offer for guests. Micah was dashing in a suit and tie, and Isla was effortlessly chic in a full-length green dress with long sleeves.

  Isla blushed, which brought out the freckles on her nose. “We wanted to look the part. I must say, it’s nice to wear something other than my gardening gear and workboots.”

  I smiled at her and turned to Micah, who was rubbing his hands together. “Micah, I hate to ask because of your beautiful clothes, but can you light the fire in the honeymoon suite so Isla can take them for a tour before lunch?”

  “Sure.” He kissed Isla’s cheek and I turned away discreetly while they did the lovey-dovey goggle-eyes. For some inexplicable reason, the wedding march played in my mind, followed closely by a vision of Isla getting ready in a suite upstairs, her mother arranging her veil, tears filling her eyes at the sight of her beautiful daughter about to marry the man of her dreams… oh, she’d make a stunning bride…

  “Clio?”

  “The tiara…”

  “Clio?”

  I blinked. Did I say that aloud? I made a mental note to research the kind of tiara that would suit Isla; something elegant, classic, not too blingy…

  “Clio?”

  I shook myself. “Sorry, was lost in thought about… weddings.”

  She frowned. “Right, well, it’s the day for it. What should I do?”

  I checked my watch. “Can you help me with the gift bags? We can set them up in the lobby to hand out before they leave.”

  We worked flat out for the next couple of hours until tires crunched on the gravel out front. They were here!

  “Isla, can you tell Cruz we’ll need the first lot of canapés in twenty minutes?”

  She nodded and glided away.

  Amory raced over, her face shining with happiness. Outside, car doors shut with a bang and high-pitched chatter filled the air. This was always the best part of an event, the moment all of our hard work came together, and our guests arrived, wide-eyed with awe.

  Our brides entered the lobby, wearing big smiles. Amory and I stood next to each other and shook their hands one by one. We went into wedding and event planner mode, and spent time greeting each bride, handing out name-tags to ensure everyone felt at home and important, before Isla ushered them into the ballroom where they let out gasps of delight at the wedding beauty displayed before them.

  Suave Micah appeared carrying a tray of canapés. He winked and strode into the ballroom, but not before we snagged a Moroccan lamb cigar, a crispy deep-fried morsel of perfection. Discreetly wiping crumbs away, I said, “Wow, that guy can cook.”

  Amory raised a brow. “Wait until you try his South American dishes.”

  Would I get to try them? Maybe he’d stay around for a while. I did need help for Christmas Eve and the fancy dinner party I envisaged hosting for my friends. Not to mention the guests who’d booked in after New Year…

  “What’s my lipstick like? No crumbs stuck to me?”

  “Fine, fine. And mine?” Usually we stayed well away from the food at our parties, but being the boss had its advantages. We were merely doing quality control, right?

  “Let’s mingle.”

  Moving with the group of brides, we took them from table to table, highlighting the ways in which their weddings could be spectacular and, more importantly, unique to them if only they held them here.

  One of the more outspoken of the brides, a Texan named Barbie, grabbed my arm and ushered me to one side. “How quickly can you get a wedding organized?” With her bouffant blonde curls and twangy accent she was impossible to miss. Even lowering her voice, she drew the eye of the other brides.

  “How quickly do you need it?” I wasn’t going to shoot myself in the foot by saying a timeframe that didn’t suit. I needed a booking, and just hoped the approval for the chapel came through in time.

  Noticing she was being watched, she bundled me further away, and whispered. “Is January too soon? February at a push?”

  It was December! When would we get a client who wasn’t in a hurry? What if the chapel approval took six months? Amory must have overhead, as she gave me a de
sperate look and mouthed say yes! Wasn’t that my own advice – say yes, always? Worry about the finer details later?

  I managed a jittery smile. “Sure, we can do it for February, as long as you choose local suppliers as much as possible.”

  She patted her belly. “Time is of the essence, you see.”

  Ah! “There’s something very special about the fact your baby will attend your wedding, whether anyone knows or not.”

  She gave me a genuine smile, one that reached her eyes. “I hadn’t thought about it like that before. The jellybean will be our guest of honor, and you’ll be one of the few who knows about him or her…”

  “Did you have any themes in mind? Color combinations…”

  “Vintage grandeur. Think Gatsby. The jazz age. That kind of thing.”

  I wanted to shriek! Vintage grandeur would suit the lodge and show it off in its best light. Did I risk taking the booking without approval? She hadn’t confirmed yet, she’d only enquired about timeframes, so instead I focused on making her fall in love with the lodge. I waved Isla over. “Would you like to see the chapel? It has the most glorious stained-glass windows, and we can decorate it to suit the jazz era…”

  “I’d love to,” she said, and I made introductions and asked Isla to take Barbie on a tour. “Don’t forget to visit the honeymoon suite,” I said. “It’s spectacular.”

  Another bride walked over exclaiming about the canapés. “Is this the same chef you’ll use if we book Cedarwood as a venue? Please say yes!”

  Amory answered: “Yes, Cruz can be requested, definitely.”

  I held my breath. She hadn’t asked him, and surely this bride would insist on knowing it was in fact Cruz in the kitchen on her wedding day.

  Just then, Cruz walked in carrying a plate of sweet canapés. “Let me introduce you?” Amory gave her a saccharine smile. “Cruz, this is Ebony, she’s enquired whether you’ll be the chef if she hires Cedarwood for her nuptials.”

  Without missing a beat, Cruz nodded. “That can easily be arranged.”

  They were totally on the same wavelength, and interpreted what the right answer would be. My heart just about exploded that they’d say yes, knowing it would help sway her decision. We’d worry about the practicalities of it later. Worry later, Clio! Smile and schmooze and do your job!

  “Great,” she said, beaming. “Let’s talk dates.”

  Amory said, “Follow me, Ebony. Can I get you a glass of champagne while we chat?”

  Two potential bookings! I wanted to jump for joy until I remembered the damn approval certification. I needed Kai and I needed him here fast.

  At the florist’s table, a trio of women stood chatting away, exclaiming over prices. I’d told the vendors to be vague about pricing, because we’d try to do the weddings as a package deal, but if they pushed for it, then to do their best to wow the brides with the quality of their products. The raven-haired beauty said, “I’m not sure it’s worth all that! What are they, exotic blooms shipped from Amsterdam?” Her friends tittered behind their hands. I frowned and hoped the florist wasn’t offended. His flowers were first-rate and worth every penny.

  A twenty-something girl dithered alone, clutching her champagne glass so tight I thought she might break it. “Hello, Felicity,” I said, reading her name badge. “Can I introduce you to my aunt who makes the most delicious donuts you’ll ever taste?”

  Felicity shot me a grateful smile and nodded. “Thank you, I’m a little out of my comfort zone here. Makes me wonder how I’ll have the courage to walk down the aisle. Right now, eloping seems like a better idea.” The apples of her cheeks were pink with nerves.

  I took her by the elbow, and led her to Aunt Bessie. “Eloping is cute,” I said. “But what about your family? Wouldn’t they miss seeing you marry the love of your life?” I understood her nerves. Many brides felt the same way, until they’d done it. Then they wanted to do it over and over again. Once they started the slow walk down the aisle, time stopped, and all they could see was the person waiting at the other end for them, the one who loved them above all else, and was about to promise to love them for eternity.

  “Yeah,” Felicity admitted. “My mom would never forgive me. But she’s one of those social types, and I’m more of an introvert.”

  “The good thing about location weddings,” I said, “is that they can be intimate. You’ve always got that excuse to keep your party to a minimum. Keep it small, with only the people you feel totally comfortable around.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I guess you’re right. Does that mean I can leave his mom off the invite list?”

  I giggled. “Monster-in-law?”

  “Times ten. She’s a nightmare! I think that’s half the problem, that I’ll be worrying about what she’s thinking about my dress, my hair, the way I’m walking. She intimidates me.”

  I clucked my tongue. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard similar worries. Brides worried about so many variables, but it was my job to take that worry away, and make sure that in the lead-up – and, more importantly, on the day – they enjoyed themselves, and felt like princesses. Otherwise what was the point?

  “If you have your wedding at Cedarwood Lodge, we’ll do the worrying for you. We have expert hair and makeup teams, ones who usually do celebrities who can fly in from New York for the day. Your bridesmaids will walk ahead of you, and you’ll have your father, right? He won’t let you topple down the aisle. Trust me when I say, none of that will be in your mind when the music starts, and you see your fiancé waiting for you.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Thank you. Clio. I suppose I have to remember it’s not a punishment. It’s meant to be one of the best days of my life.”

  “It will be. You’ll see.”

  “Hello there, pretty girl!” Aunt Bessie said. “Would you like to try some donuts?” Before waiting for an answer she pointed to a tray. “These are my Rudolf reindeers, filled with butterscotch custard and ganache. The antlers are made from dark chocolate, and the red noses are candy-cane flavored. Aren’t they the cutest things?”

  Felicity took the proffered donut, and said, “Almost too cute to eat!”

  Just then a voice bellowed, “Not on your life would I pay five thousand dollars for a photography package! Are you trying to rob us blind?” The same trio again! I donned a serene expression and hotfooted it to the photography stand where the poor photographer stood aghast.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked, sweetly.

  The girl turned to me, flipping her long mane of dark hair. “Your photographer is charging an exorbitant amount for a basic package, and it makes me wonder if the price is inflated for everything just because we’re using the W word!”

  This kind of person was party suicide, so I motioned for Micah to bring champagne. Better to kill her with kindness even though she was out of line. “Tory is one of the most sought-after photographers in New York, and we’re very lucky he even agreed to visit us today.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I guess he’s tacking his holiday bill onto our wedding packages.”

  Tory glared at her and said, “The package I quoted was including drone footage by the lake, and a variety of additions – definitely not the basic wedding package.”

  She blushed but rallied, “Still, it’s a lot of money for a wedding in a hokey place.”

  “Right,” I said, pretending to consider it. “Who just booked you for their wedding next year, Tory? Was it Hadley?”

  “It was. But she obviously went for all the bells and whistles for her big day.”

  “Of course, you can’t put a price on memories like those.”

  “They last a lifetime,” he grinned.

  “Hadley booked you?” Her voice was incredulous. “As in the singer?”

  “I can’t divulge the personal details of my clients.” He pursed his lips.

  She squirmed but tried to adopt a haughty expression. “Can I see those packages again? Like you said, you can’t put a price on memories.”

&n
bsp; I left them to it, smothering a smile, fairly sure Hadley was the receptionist in the office next door to Tory’s studio…

  A few hours into the expo, the girls were pink-cheeked and grinning from excitement and perhaps a few extra glasses of champagne. Somehow the quiet, shy Felicity had convinced Amory to try on one of the couture wedding gowns so they could see it objectively. Always up for a challenge when it came to business, Amory had happily obliged, and I wondered what she secretly thought about wearing such a gown. For someone adamant they were never walking down the aisle, would it make her think twice, wearing something so fabulous, so utterly made just for one day… When she swanned out in it her expression was unreadable but her color high, and she made the most magnificent bride. Just then Cruz walked in, and his face said it all. For a split second, he brightened, his mouth parting in surprise, as if he’d never seen anyone so lovely. When Amory noticed him, she blushed, fumbling with the dress. Something had passed between them, a fleeting glimpse of what might be?

  By nightfall most of our brides had left satiated after such a big day. Isla had impressed everyone with the range of outdoor activities, and our dance teacher, who was easy on the eye, had been a hit too.

  We had one definite booking – Barbie in February – and a tentative yes from Ebony for the summer, but first she’d bring her family to the lodge for a second opinion. Micah and Isla had helped Aunt Bessie load up her car with supplies we’d borrowed and were meeting her in Evergreen to help unpack. Cruz was wiping down the kitchen benches, his chef whites no longer pristine, but a satisfied smile firmly in place.

  I flopped down at the bench and said, “Do you want any help, Cruz?” I prayed he’d say no since my feet were on fire from wearing heels all day. I must have climbed the staircase twenty times, showing brides the honeymoon suite.

  “I’d love a glass of wine,” he said.

  I lifted a finger. “No! Champagne for all!”

  “Did I hear someone say champagne?” Amory took some flutes from the cupboard and went to the fridge, taking a bottle and expertly popping the cork with zero ceremony. I had to laugh. In times of crisis, or fatigue, she was a guzzler, and an expensive price tag meant little.