A Pour Way to Dye (Book 2 in the Soapmaking Mysteries) (30 page)

I tapped the microphone with my finger and a
squeal cut across a dozen conversations like a fan through smoke.
“Excuse me,” I said a little louder than necessary, causing some of
the people sitting near the speakers to wince. “We’re ready to get
started.”

I took a deep breath, then adjusted my voice
to the correct volume. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege
and honor to introduce a soapmaking master to you this afternoon
“Did she honestly expect me to read it all? There was more of it
than I could stomach, so I scanned down a few paragraphs, then
flipped the paper over. If the contessa had a problem with my
truncated introduction, she was just going to have to deal with
it.

Ad-libbing, I said, “Please join me in
welcoming our honored guest, the Contessa New Berne.”

The applause was heartfelt, but there was no
sign of the woman herself. I’d been expecting a grand entrance, but
it looked like she wasn’t interested in coming out with less than
her usual introduction.

As the applause started to die, I tried one
more time. “The Contessa New Berne.”

It came back up again, but slowed rather
quickly, and we were still without our speaker.

I leaned into the microphone and said, “Sorry
about that. I’ll be right back.”

There were a few giggles from the crowd, but
many more grumbles. She’d made me look like a fool, and I was
prepared to give her a withering remark as I walked to the back
room to look for her.

That’s when I nearly tripped over the
body.