“Just kidding.”
“It’s not funny,” she muttered.
Hannah blinked when the basement’s fluorescent lights flickered to life. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me too soon.”
Hannah’s cell phone beeped. She read the message and smiled. “The lights are on in the ballroom.”
“Looks as though I know a thing or two about changing fuses.”
“It does. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Bob.”
“Likewise. Make sure the hotel doesn’t charge you for the call-out. It’s part of their servicing agreement.”
Hannah didn’t care who paid the bill. She had lights in the grand ballroom and that’s all that mattered. She raced up the back stairs, only slowing when she pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
Claire hadn’t wasted any time. She had people up each of the ladders, finishing the last of the fairy light installations.
The hotel staff were bustling around the tables, placing crystal wine glasses and silver cutlery in front of each name tag. The pine trees had been sprayed with artificial snow, and the white chocolate fountain smelled delicious.
After a quick look at her watch, she found her sister under the gift table. “What are you doing?”
“The table wobbles. I’ve stuck a piece of cardboard under one of the legs. Can you give the table a shake?”
Hannah nudged the table. “It’s good. No wobble.”
Claire backed out from under the table. “How long before Mrs. Jenkins and Beverly arrive?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“It’s going to be close.”
“I know.” Hannah picked up her sister’s clipboard. “What’s left on our checklist?”
“Once the tables are set and the last lights are installed, we only have to sweep the floor. Luckily the blown fuse didn’t affect the sound system.”
Hannah walked toward one of the ladders. They’d wanted the ballroom clear of all workers when Margaret Jenkins arrived. If the room had been ready, they would have turned on the special lighting, played the music the bride and groom had chosen, and let Margaret experience what they’d been planning for the last three months.
“It still looks amazing,” Claire said from beside her.
“But not as good as it will look tomorrow afternoon.” She wished Brett was here to see what they had created. But he’d left two hours ago to spend time with Pat.
Hannah’s cell phone rang. She looked at the number and frowned. “I’ll just get this call.”
“I’ll start sweeping the floor,” Claire whispered.
Hannah nodded and answered the call. “Hi, Nick.”
“It is good to hear your voice, Hannah. I have been trying to contact Pat, but he is not answering his phone.”
“He’s spending most of his time at the hospital with Ida. I’m seeing Brett later. He could give Pat a message from you.”
“This is not a simple message.”
Hannah caught her breath. Nick’s voice was bubbling with excitement. “Is the painting from Pat’s attic a Bierstadt?”
“It is, my dear. My friend in New York City is in shock, as are her colleagues. Come to the gallery. I will give you a copy of her report to share with Pat.”
