Aapo Kivvi walked with the elegance of a dancer and had the charm of his mother.
‘Thank you,’ Cat said, opening the oven to a roll of steam. ‘Aapo, this is my friend Emme, she’s helping out.’
Aapo walked over to Emme, who was placing chicken Caesar sourdoughs at jaunty angles in neat rows and held out a hand. He seemed rather formal.
‘Oh,’ Emme wiped her hands on a tea towel and shook Aapo’s soft hand.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said.
His formality fused with friendliness made Emme laugh.
‘Pleased to meet you too,’ Emme said, then got back to her task.
‘Anything I can help with?’ he asked Cat. As busy as she was, she would never have said yes.
‘All in hand, thank you Aapo, you enjoy the party. Find your sister and tell her I made her the macarons she loves…’
‘Well that is news I would love to deliver,’ Aapo said with a smile, as he bowed out and went in search of Stella.
The Harringtons arrived soon after 2pm, and Bill quickly got lost in conversation by the piano with Oliver Koch while Lexy sought out Emme in the kitchen to see some behind-the-scenes action.
‘Here you are!’ Lexy almost sang, as if she were Ginger Rogers making a grand entrance. Emme looked up. Lexy’s Hollywood red waves and lips were polished– her glam squad had done a good job– and Emme felt pleased for her that she was where she wanted to be, although her presence made Emme feel flustered. Still, she did her best to stay polite.
‘Lexy, this is my friend Cat,’ Emme said, as she picked up the next rotation of canapés. ‘She’s the one responsible for the amazing food today.’ Emme smiled, and raised a platter. ‘Chicharróneswith cumin, chipotle and red cabbage,’ she said proudly. ‘Would you like one?’
Lexy waved a hand and gestured to her figure-hugging dress that accentuated both her tiny waist and her rounded bottom.
Cat didn’t have time for chitchat, especially with anyone who didn’t appreciate the artistry of her food, so she kept her head down and barked orders.
‘Chicharrónes; salt hake,vamos!’ she called, and Emme took her cue to leave.
Lexy seemed to resent Cat’s authoritative tone overheremployee, but sauntered out of the kitchen and bumped into Formula 1 driver Oscar Goodall and his model girlfriend Touran, whose handbag Lexy fawned over at first sight.
‘That is divine!’ she simpered. ‘Youmustlet me stroke it!’
Emme and Tiago rotated in opposite directions with slate platters, Emme often stalked by Bella for canapés and hugs, and she kept a firm overview of every person she saw walk in through the grand front door. She noticed a bald man with his son and two daughters in matching dresses. She noticed a man who looked like an aging rock star, with a skinny scarf and a beautiful wife. She recognised a Bollywood couple she had seen walking the high street hand in hand– the wife had green eyes and emerald earrings that weighed down her earlobes. She recognised minor royals from their blue eyes and Hapsburg chins. She recognised Swedish pop star Frida Alm. She thought she saw David Hasselhoff and Elton John (not together) but she couldn’t see Tristan Du Kok. As Emme weaved through the guests, offering food but keeping as low a profile as possible, she saw Vivian Steinherr enter on her father’s arm. She looked incredible in a black velvet suit that draped off her languid body. How could Emme, serving canapés in a borrowed Chanel rip-off dress, compete with Vivian Steinherr? Of course Tristan wouldn’t have reached out to her after their passionate, animal instincts took over in the gondola. He was an animal. And this beautiful woman was his girlfriend.
She shook her head and continued on her rounds, noticing a handsome man with salt and pepper hair following closely behind Walter and Vivian. Swedish pop star Frida Alm made a beeline for him.
‘Lysander Steinherr, as I live and breathe!’ she said, outstretching her arms.
‘Frida, my darling,’ he said in an American accent, as he squeezed her arm and kissed each cheek.
‘Canapé?’ Emme proffered, but they both ignored her.
‘Do my eyes deceive me?’ Viktor Kivvi said, clutching a glass of Japanese whisky on the rocks. ‘Walter…’ He couldn’t bring himself to shake the man’s hand, but he gave a cautious smile. ‘Welcome to my home.’
‘Viktor,’ Walter said, nodding politely. Viktor looked almost thrown. Ever since he had moved to Kristalldorf and started the Seven Summits project, it had been met with obstacles, red tape and planning bureaucracy, all underpinned by Walter Steinherr, whose own projects and buildings seemed to rise seamlessly out of the ground.
What was the old curmudgeon up to, finally attending the Kivvi Christingle?
Walter looked at Lumi who shook her hair and gave her most gracious smile.
‘Lumi,’ Walter said, his voice almost like butter. ‘And you know my daughter Vivian, I’m sure.’ He proudly presented her, keeping a palm on her back.
‘Hello,’ Vivian said graciously, smiling and genial. Vivian kissed Lumi on each cheek, then shook Viktor’s hand and gave him a judicious smile as if to say,I haven’t forgotten how rude you were in my restaurant.
Lumi was always entranced to see Vivian up close at her party. The baby she knew had grown into an alarmingly beautiful woman. She wondered if Vivian might remember her loving touch as the motherless infant cried in Lumi’s arms. Lumi’s heart broke for a second, while Vivian felt the intensity and awe of her gaze.
