I slowed my pace so he could catch up. “How long has she been here?”
“Not long, thank goodness. She just showed up on the front porch, so I let her in and offered her a cup of coffee.”
I smiled. Morty brewed his coffee strong enough that it would “put hairs on your chest,” his words, not mine. “How did she like that?”
“Took one sip, got the cup covered in that red shit she’s got on her lips, then turned up her nose. I don’t know how Alex is going to be able to handle her. She’s not his kind.”
“Not his kind?” I pressed ahead, Morty on my heels.
“Nah. The makeup, the attitude, the snappiness.”
“Yeah, she seems like she’s used to getting what she wants, all right.” Which made it even more imperative that her visit went well. Alex’s job was riding on it and if that fell through, then my chance to get money to fix up the shelter would be gone and I’d have to figure out what to do with the poor dogs. Not coming through for Chyna’s visit wasn’t an option.
“What do you want me to do?” Morty paused, his breath labored, as we reached the door to the warehouse.
“We need to get as many dogs out back as we can. Hold back the troublemakers.” Morty had been helping enough that he knew which dogs wouldn’t get along with the others.
Morty nodded as he disappeared through the door. I followed. A chorus of barks broke out as we moved toward the kennels. The dogs kept better time than Alex’s watch. They knew they should have had breakfast fifteen minutes ago. By the time I’d let all of them out and filled up their dishes, Alex and Chyna were at the front door.
I held my breath as the door creaked open and the typical barks sounded. The jig was up. Chyna would realize we’d been using the wedding venue as a dog rescue and would pull the plug. No way was some oil baron’s socialite daughter going to want to get married in a warehouse that smelled like sardines and wet dogs.
I fought the urge to disappear through the back door and hop in my truck. Lacey’s was a relatively short drive away. Or I could head over to the Burger Bonanza and drown my worries in an extra-large version of what they tried to pass off as a cappuccino and a breakfast full of enough grease to make sure my worries slid right away.
Instead, I took cautious steps toward the front of the building.
Alex
“That’s actually a brilliant idea.” Chyna slid the giant shades from her eyes and let them rest on top of her head. “I think the Munyon family will be very pleased with what you’ve put together.”
The waves of panic that had been rolling through my gut stilled. “Fantastic. We just want to make sure the bride has the wedding of her dreams.”
“It will be. My staff will make sure.” Chyna paused at the entrance to the warehouse. “Now, walk me through exactly how you envision the setup.”
The waves gathered momentum, crashing into the sides of my stomach. This was it, the moment where Chyna would realize I didn’t have a plan. The moment everything would fall apart.
Zina came out of nowhere. “Actually, we thought it might be best to hold the ceremony and reception in tents.”
Tents? Since when had we talked about tents? I blinked, hard, trying to figure out where that idea had come from.
She gave a slight shake of her head. I nodded, willing to see how it played out.
“Tents?” Chyna pulled her blouse away from her skin and fanned herself, even though the sun hadn’t fully risen and the temperature lingered in the low seventies this early in the morning.
“Air-conditioned tents, of course.” Zina nodded. “Alex mentioned that Mr. Munyon was willing to spare no expense.”
“That’s true, but tents?” Chyna eyed us both from under thick fake lashes. “Don’t you think that’s a bit, um, rustic?”
I bit back a laugh. Rustic? We were having a winter wonderland wedding in the middle of nowhere with penguins. And she was worried about guests feeling like the location was too rustic?
“With a tent we can create whatever kind of environment we’d like. For the winter wonderland I was thinking a white tent with blue snowflakes projected on the walls and ceiling,” Zina said.
Chyna nodded. “I can see it. The white sides of the tent will make guests feel like they’re surrounded by a frosty winter wonderland.”
“Right.” I jumped into the conversation. “And we can have ice sculptures on the buffet tables?—”
“No buffet. This will be a sit-down dinner.” The look Chyna shot me could have turned me to ice.
At that point I decided to shut the hell up and let the two women figure out how best to set the scene. My job was to make sure the penguins played their part, no more, no less.
