The chicken was under foil and resting.
The potatoes were done and in their pot of hot water waiting to be whipped.
I’d just put the Yorkshire puds in the oven.
And the pavlova smeared in thick cream, lemon curd and covered with berries was in the fridge.
This meant I could dash up for a drink before I had to come back down and finish everything.
When I made it to the plum parlor, I saw everyone was there but Prue.
The minute I stepped in, Battle pushed up from his chair.
“Drink, darling?” he asked.
“Please. Can you make me a Cosmo?”
“Of course,” he murmured as I made it to him.
I got a lip brush, a gentle shove into my chair, and he headed to the drinks cabinet.
“You sure you don’t need help in the kitchen, Vivi?” Chassie asked.
“It’d help if you’d go back down with me in twenty minutes,” I answered. “I can tell you how to mash potatoes while I whip up the gravy. Then you can help me carry everything up.”
“Oo, that’d be great,” Chassie replied.
I looked from her to Tempie and Hamish, tucked close together on the sofa opposite Chassie.
“Where’s Prue?” I asked.
“Somewhere,” Tempie said unnecessarily.
I gave her the side eye.
She smiled.
“Maybe I should text her,” Chassie suggested. “She’s usually always one of the first ones down.”
“She probably doesn’t want to be pressed into kitchen drudgery,” Tempie remarked.
Hamish chuckled.
“I’m going back to London with Hamish in the morning, dears,” Tempie said to Chassie and me. “Is that all right?”
“That’s perfect,” Chassie whispered.
I just smiled and transferred my smile to Battle who was heading my way with a Cosmopolitan in a martini glass.
He didn’t make it because he stopped dead, his eyes to the door.
I looked over my shoulder.
And I nearly burst out laughing.
Prue was walking in.
With Christian.
