‘Where are you?’ he asked, glancing around the reception.
‘I’m in the snug.’
Flynn’s gaze swung towards her and Libby waved at him as he hung up the call. She watched as he addressed the guests. ‘Please follow the general manager into the bar area, where complimentary tea and coffee will be served while I look into this.’
There were a lot of disgruntled noises from the guests as they shuffled into the bar area on the other side of the lobby. Flynn strode towards Libby and thrust an invitation into her hand.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked. ‘Why have you given me one of Miranda and David’s wedding invitations?’ Confused, she glanced at the invitation then back at Flynn.
‘I was going to ask you the same thing. There’s approximately one hundred and twenty guests in the foyer that have turned up for a wedding that’s meant to be happening at eleven this morning.’
‘You’ve lost me. Who’s getting married?’
‘Miranda and David!’ Flynn looked at his wits’ end.
Libby took a closer look at the invitation. ‘Oh no. There’s been some sort of printing mistake.’
‘How has this happened? I’ve got the majority of the wedding guests dressed up to the nines sipping tea and coffee in the function bar expecting a wedding to take place.’
Libby was still looking at the invitation. ‘I don’t understand. I input all the correct information onto the invitations and Miranda double-checked it before we hit send. It has to be a mistake at the printer’s end. No wonder all the RSVPs came back so soon; I did think that was strange.’
‘It doesn’t matter how it happened. It’s carnage out there and I’ve got to explain to all those guests that there is to be no wedding—well, not until Christmas Eve. Can you get on to the printers and check what the hell has gone on? Because unless a new batch of invites is posted with the correct details, our winning competition winners may not have any guests at their real wedding.’ Flynn blew out a breath.
Libby watched him walk towards the lion’s den, raking his hands through his hair, something he only did when he was nervous. How had the mix-up happened? She knew she’d double-checked everything so it had to be a mistake at the printers.
Scrolling through the list of numbers in her phone, she rang them and was relieved when the call was picked up within three rings.
‘Hi, it’s Libby from Starcross Manor. I’m not quite sure how to say this but there’s been an issue with those invitations I ordered that were sent out for the wedding on Christmas Eve. Everyone has turned up today instead. There’s nothing that can be done about the mix-up now, but would it be possible to check the original email I pinged across with the order, please?’
At the end of the phone the assistant went quiet for a moment and Libby could hear the tapping of the keys on a computer. ‘I’m sorry to tell you, there’s no mistake at our end. The details in the email clearly state today’s date. I can send the original email back to you so you can see?’
Libby thanked the assistant and waited for the email to land. After ordering another batch to go out for the correct day and time she hung up the phone, utterly perplexed. The email landed and there it was, in black and white, today’s date and time. She watched the hordes of unhappy guests trailing back through the reception, their loud, disgruntled mutterings making it clear that this was unacceptable and they wanted compensation for the time they’d had to take off work. Libby knew that Flynn wasn’t going to be happy when she confessed that it must have somehow been her mistake, though she didn’t have any idea how.
‘What’s going on? Flynn has a riot on his hands out there.’ Guy was suddenly standing at the side of her chair.
‘You aren’t going to believe this. All these people have turned up for Miranda and David’s wedding.’
‘They’re a bit early,’ said Guy. ‘How has that happened?’
‘It seems it’s somehow my mistake. I input the wrong date on the invitations and, hey presto, here they are.’
‘Surely not?’
‘I don’t know how it happened, because I definitely double-checked the details.’
‘Flynn doesn’t look happy,’ observed Guy.
‘Who can blame him?’
‘Hopefully this will help a little … maybe.’ Guy held up a pink frosted cupcake with the initial L on the top. ‘From Holly and she—well, we—would like to know if you would like to come for tea?’
‘I’d love to,’ she answered before she could stop herself.
‘Holly is making a very special tea, she said, for her new friend.’
Now Libby felt guilty; it wasn’t just Guy’s feelings she could be hurting, it was Holly’s too. ‘Guy, we need to talk.’
‘Of course. Are you okay?’ he replied just as a harassed Flynn headed towards them.
