Always the Baker, Never the Bride (28 page)

“I missed most of dinner,” Emma announced. “And I’m ravenous.”

“Well, we can’t have that. Let me get you a plate.”

Pearl’s salt-and-pepper hair, mostly salt, seemed to push against her white chef’s cap in an overt desire to break free, and her very blue eyes shimmered with a blend of amusement and wonder.

“Oooh, you look pretty. Is the dress new?”

“Thanks. Well, it’s new to me. Fee took me to one of her secret consignment locations.”

Emma scraped a stool across the floor and sat down at the center island where Pearl smoothed a linen napkin into a makeshift placemat. With meticulous care, she set out flatware and presented a plate of salmon with all the accoutrements, including a sprig of parsley atop the potatoes.

“How do you think it all went tonight?” Emma asked her as Pearl poured cold water into a crystal goblet.

“With Anton?” Emma nodded. “He was …
Anton Morelli
.”

Emma chuckled. “How long have you been working with him?”

“Eleven years. He took me right out of cooking school and put me to work in his kitchen. I’ve gone from cleaning vegetables and doing prep work to full-on eye-of-the-storm assistance.” Pearl leaned on the counter and smiled at Emma. “He’s a genius, you know.”

Emma did know. With her mouth full, she nodded and waved her fork. “Mm-hmm.”

Pearl folded both arms on the counter and leaned forward. The pride in her indigo eyes was unmistakable and, for the first time since she’d first met Pearl, realization crept over Emma.

“There’s something going on with you and Chef Morelli, isn’t there?”

Pearl’s gaze sharpened as it darted straight for Emma. “What do you mean?”

“I know that look,” she said, pointing with her fork. “You have a thing for him.”

Pearl hesitated, then shifted, angling her head as her lips tilted into a timid grin. “Do you really want to talk about employees who have a thing for their bosses?”

Emma’s pulse fluttered.

“I mean, if you want to go there—”

“No. You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

“Mm-hm.” It was fragmented and sharp, but pregnant with meaning.

“Is there any more cake?”

“You can’t have cake,” Pearl clucked. “Anton told me you’re diabetic.”

“I just want a taste. That’s why I made sure to eat something first. Ooh, you know, I want to try and make it into the auction room and place a bid on—”

All thoughts of cake and football snapped right out of her mind as the kitchen door blew open and Fee stood there looking like she’d just escaped a hurricane.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sophie,” she panted. “She ditched me.”

Emma sprang to her feet. “What do you mean she ditched you?”

“I was watching television. I heard the door, but I thought it was Pete coming back with ice. Then when he did come back a minute later, we realized Sophie was gone. What do we do?”

“We find her!” Emma cried as she rushed toward the door. With an offhanded wave across her shoulder, she added, “Thanks, Pearl.”

Before Pearl could respond, Emma was down the hall and scurrying through the lobby. At the door of the ballroom, she waited for Fee to reach her and whispered, “Let’s find my mother and bring her right back here.” The two of them flew inside and darted off in separate directions.

Emma scanned the room.

“Where is she, where is she?” she muttered.

Jackson caught her eye from the dance floor. He was holding that woman from the news in a loose embrace. Emma bit her lip and tilted her head, and Jackson excused himself from his partner and headed straight for her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Aunt Sophie. She’s on the loose again.”

“I thought Fee had this covered.”

“So did she.”

Jackson quickly looked around the room. “Where’s your mom?”

“I was just trying to figure that out.”

“Okay,” he said, and he rubbed her shoulder. “I did see her earlier. Come with me.”

Emma hesitated, but only for a moment. Ben Colson’s silky voice drew her attention to the stage for an instant. A soft blue backlight lent a vintage vibe to his rendition of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” Wishing she had a few minutes to enjoy the bluesy performance, Emma hurried off to catch up with Jackson.

“… seen Mrs. Travis?”

“No, sir.”

She hadn’t come to a full stop before Jackson moved on from the valet and headed toward the empty restaurant at the far end of the lobby. Georgiann was seated at one of the tables, one of her stocking feet stretched out over its abandoned shoe.

“This’ll teach me to wear a new pair of shoes without breaking them in,” she said on a chuckle as they reached her. “It’s a lovely affair, Jackson. Just lovely.”

“Have you seen Avery Travis, George?”

“Yes, a few minutes ago,” she told him. “She was out in the courtyard.”

Jackson touched Emma’s arm and led her to the lobby again. “If you see her before we do,” he tossed back toward his sister, “tell her we’re looking for her?”

“Y-yes,” Georgiann called after them, bewildered. “Yes, I will.”

Emma pushed past Jackson through the doors and out to the brick courtyard. A dozen or more guests milled around, some of them holding glasses and some of them seated at the wrought iron bistro tables. Emma thought that it looked like a scene from a movie with all of them dressed in elegant costume, a million tiny white lights twinkling in the trees overhead.

“I don’t see her, Jackson. What are we going to do?”

“Don’t panic,” he assured her as they stood there, side by side, scrutinizing every face before them. “Sophie will probably turn up in the ballroom. That’s where all the action is. We’ll go back there and wait for her.”

It was as good a plan as they had at their disposal, so Emma decided to follow Jackson’s inclination until something better came along. One more circle to check back in the restaurant, and then …

They both noticed it at the same moment, and Jackson and Emma stopped in their tracks. The door to the consultation room was cracked slightly, and a beam of light streamed out from inside. Jackson reached it first, but the moment he pulled the door open and peered inside, he closed it again and turned toward Emma. The look on his face was one of amused alarm, mixed with …

The taste of a bad lemon
, Emma decided.

“Is it Aunt Sophie?”

“No.” He stated it with a firm resolution that further piqued Emma’s interest.

“What is it, Jackson?”

He reached for her but missed when she sidestepped him and pushed open the door.

Time froze and a shower of prickly needles poked at her. Without further thought, Emma opened her mouth and allowed the scream that rose up from the very pit of her stomach to catapult over her throat and straight out her mouth. In the very next instant, Jackson stood behind her, bracing her against him, and he covered her mouth with his large hand.

He hadn’t silenced her fast enough, however, and her parents reacted to her scream, fumbling out of the embrace in which she’d caught them, sputtering a forced end to their very passionate kiss.

“What are you DOING?!” she bellowed into the palm of Jackson’s hand. “Are you out of your MINDS?”

Avery swiftly pulled the handkerchief from Gavin’s pocket and shoved it toward him, nodding at the smear of lipstick around his mouth.

Dabbing at it while he spoke, Gavin stammered, “Th-there you are, P-Princess. We … your mother and I, that is … we were wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

Jackson slowly eased his hand away, bracing Emma’s shoulder with a firm grip.

“Try counting to ten,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

Emma’s eyes were so wide and round that they stung. “There isn’t a number in the world big enough for me to count down. What are you two
doing
?”

“Well,” her father said on a chuckle. “We’re smooching, Emmy.”

“Gavin!” Avery gasped, smacking his arm with the back of her hand.

Emma turned around, her parents behind her. Swallowing hard and wondering if she was about to lose her dinner, she muttered, “Aunt Sophie is missing. We need to find her.”

As she walked away from them, she heard her mother and Jackson whispering.

Good, Mother. Involve my boss in your breakdown.

She shook her head as she ambled back toward the ballroom, and Fee stepped into stride beside her.

“Did you find her?”

“No.”

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

“Em, really. I am so, so sorry.”

Emma stopped in her tracks, and Fee nearly ran right into her.

“If you had seen what I’ve just seen …”

“What?” Fee cried. “What did you see?”

“I mean, my eyes!” she exclaimed. “They may be scarred for life, Fee.”

“You’re freaking me out.”

“You don’t know what it IS to be freaked out. Not until you’ve seen your divorced parents, feeling each other up and sucking face in a closet.”

Fee’s entire face scrunched up into a balled fist. “Ew.”

Emma nodded knowingly, then shook her head again. “It was tragic.”

“Are they …” She leaned in toward Emma and whispered, “… getting back together?”

Emma considered the thought and then shuddered.

“Watch your language, Bianchi. Even in a whisper, that comes off obscene.”

The Year’s Most Unique Wedding Favors

1. Acrylic heart coasters, engraved with poetic quotes about love.
   
2. Scented candles in the shape of a wedding dress.
   
3. “Love is Brewing” gift boxes with flavored teas and tea accessories.
   
4. A gift box with petit fours in the flavors of the wedding cake.
   
5. Cookies made to look like the wedding invitation.
   
6. Place cards set in beautiful, ornate take-away picture frames.
   
7. “Mint to Be” boxes of take-home mints, chocolates, and almonds.
   
8. Beach-themed bucket filled with chocolate starfish and seashells.
   
9. Bottle of wine or champagne with label commemorating the wedding.
   
10. “Perfect Blend” packets of flavored coffee with personalized labels.
    

18

S
ix of the servers stood by the lobby door in two perfectly straight rows, handing out favor boxes to the guests as they made their way outside. Norma had outdone herself with the idea of wedding-type favors made out of fold-out cardboard boxes in the shape of a horse-drawn carriage, filled with tulle-and-ribbon bags of fragrant wildflowers, Jordan almonds, and gourmet chocolates bearing the ornate gold T that served as The Tanglewood’s logo.

“Jackson, it was a beautiful party,” Christina Valentine said as he helped her slip into her evening coat. “I just wish we could have spent a little more time together.”

She snapped her bright red locks out of the collar of her coat and struck what he assumed was her best model pose.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he told her. “Drive safely.”