“Probably because you didn’t have to plan it,” I grumbled.
“Yup! That’s it!” Brea said happily.
I had to admit I was looking forward to it as well. Because two of Meg’s sisters were underage and she had invited the Svensson sisters, who ranged in age from three to twelve, we were having a very classy and early bachelorette party. I had rented out the rooftop terrace of Girl Meets Fig. We were serving appetizers, cocktails for the adults, and mocktails for the kids.
“The best part is we’ll be in bed by ten,” Brea said with a laugh. “We’re getting sad in our old age.”
“Speak for yourself,” I retorted. “I can handle getting trashed twice a year!”
Zoe had already started hanging up some decorations when Brea and I arrived at her restaurant.
I poured myself a cocktail in a tall glass and added a sprig of mint.
“Yum! Watermelon mojitos,” I said, stealing one of the booze-soaked pieces of fruit from the large pitcher.
“Love how you have your priorities straight,” Zoe said with an eye roll.
“I’ve been up since three a.m. arranging flowers. I deserve this.”
I grabbed a piece of caramelized onion bread and picked up a bin of decorations and trucked upstairs.
“Wouldn’t you rather have coffee?” Zoe asked.
“That depends. Does it have bourbon in it?”
“It could,” she offered.
“Then perhaps.”
“Did I hear someone talking about alcohol?” Meg called, coming onto the roof deck.
“You can’t be early for your own party,” I told her.
“If I didn’t come early, I would be late,” she admitted. “I have half the town trying to convince me to give their random product the official seal of approval.”
“Tell them they need to go through me or Sebastian,” I told her as Brea poured her a cocktail.
“I do, but they are relentless,” she said, gratefully accepting the drink.
“There you are, Mayor!” Ida, flanked by Bettina and Dottie, stomped onto the roof deck, carting several big boxes.
“Is that more merchandise?” I eyed the boxes warily.
“Now, these are better than those bullshit salt-and-pepper shakers Lee Roy is hawking around town,” Ida insisted. “Me and the Harrogate Girls Club have been working real hard on these.”
“Dare I ask what they are?” Meg asked, then knocked back the rest of her drink and poured another.
“We really need an official website for people to log these items,” I said.
“Too late. Wedding is in a week,” Brea reminded me.
“We’ll do it for the next wedding festival,” Ida assured me. “Because I plan on selling a lot more of these.”
Dottie whipped off the top of one of the boxes. “Ta-da!”
I cringed, waiting for something horrible. But inside was only a bulky piece of wood.
“It’s a target!” Ida said. “You can use it for knife throwing, ax throwing, and darts.”
