“I’m starting to wonder if you’ve ever been to a wedding.” Sophie picked up the bottle of red and topped up her glass. Quirking an eyebrow, she offered the bottle to Tarryn. At her nod, she topped up her glass as well. “While this isn’t a real wedding, at the least, we’ll need background music while the couple are introduced. Then something for the first dance. Maybe a dance number to finish and get people in the mood for the afterparty. But nothing too obscure. People like to shout along to the lyrics and proclaim everlasting friendship after the first two bottles of wine.”
“Now who’s sounding cynical.”
“Well, that’s how the last couple of weddings I went to played out.”
“I’ll see if I can do better. No Barry Manilow, plenty of ABBA. It’ll give the drag queens something to work with.”
“Perfect.” When she smiled, Sophie looked a lot more relaxed. The pinch of worry that creased between her eyes disappeared. If she quit being so…stuffy at times, she’d be a lot more likeable. Was Sophie single? If she was, there’d be a couple of women in town who’d start the chase. She supressed a smile. They were welcome to her.
She sipped her wine. “Anything else?”
“Can you review the stallholder applications for the wedding fair with me?” Sophie asked. “Phyll is going for traditional and staid. I think we need to include fun things and informal wear. Maybe what you’d wear to your casual outdoor wedding.” A quick smile. “I need someone with me to persuade Phyll.”
“Right. Phyllis, by royal invitation. At least, that’s what she tells everyone. She was invited to the garden party at Buckingham Palace once, and she never lets anyone forget it. I can help you persuade her.”
“How about tomorrow morning? We could meet at Kirra’s Kafé at nine if that works for you.”
“I can do that. Anything for a piece of Kirra’s ginger slice.”
“Is nine too early?”
“That’s fine. I can do a couple of hours of metalwork first. See you then.”
Sophie scribbled a note on a pad. “I’ll let Phyll know. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tarryn. Thanks for dropping by.”
“No worries. Thanks for feeding me and for the wine.”
“Lucky you caught me on a shareable dinner kind of evening. Another night it might be a takeaway.”
“Thai Dreams is best,” Tarryn said. “Great green curry. They understand the true meaning of spicy.”
“Sounds like my sort of place.”
She finished the last mouthful of wine and set the glass down. “I’ll see you then.”
At Sophie’s nod, she clattered down the stairs to her truck. At least it hadn’t been chips and an apple for dinner.
Chapter 6
Tarryn was late, damn her.
Allie surreptitiously glanced at her phone under the café table as Phyll droned on. It was now 9:10a.m., and, of course, she and Phyll had both been ten minutes early.
“White dresses and dark tuxes reflect the traditional aspect of marriage and the serious nature of the commitment,” Phyll said. She’d also managed to put away two scones with plum jam and cream and half a pot of English breakfast tea, all without interruption to her speech.
Allie clenched her teeth against the festering irritation which was fast reaching boiling point. She needed to stop Phyll while she could still be civil about it. How someone as behind the times as Phyll had got herself in charge of the planning committee for a modern festival was beyond her.
“That’s just it though, Phyll. People are moving away from rigid traditional weddings and want to include their own personalities and flair in their ceremonies. And same-sex weddings are embracing this more fully than heterosexual couples—maybe because they don’t have the weight of tradition behind them.” Was that even true? Allie had no clue, but it sounded as if it could be, and that was the main thing. She pushed her uneaten scone to one side and forged on before Phyll could draw breath. “Now, these clothing companies here”—she lined up two brochures on the table—“their look is bright, happy, and exuberant. Just like Gay Bells. I think we should include them.”
Where the hell was Tarryn?She’d have Phyll wrapped up like a parcel before Tarryn showed up.
“It’s irreverent.” Phyll chomped her final mouthful of scone and eyed the one on Allie’s plate.
Allie nudged it closer. “There are already enough vendors who embrace the traditional look. We need more sass and sparkle.”
The bells on the front door jangled, and a waft of cool air followed. Allie glanced over her shoulder and blew out a relieved breath. Tarryn sauntered to the counter, her cheeks ruddy from the cold, her curls almost hidden under a striped beanie.
“Hi, Kirra.” Tarryn perused the display cabinet. “Can I get a flat white and one of your ginger slices, please.”
