28
‘Finula wants lilies on the tables, white linen tablecloths and soft lighting. I’m thinking candles.’ Dermot was running through a few arrangements for Finula’s wedding.
‘I’m thinking fire risk,’ replied Christie dryly, ‘especially if the champagne’s flowing, which by the amount you’ve ordered, it will.’
‘I’m not scrimping on me own daughter’s wedding,’ said Dermot defiantly.
‘You’re certainly not.’ Christie’s eyes had watered when she’d seen the cost of the marquee alone, not to mention all the food and drink. Dermot’s family were staying at The Templar, which he’d agreed to pay for too. ‘Let’s have tea lights, for that subtle look,’ persuaded Christie. The picture of the marquee in flames, burning merrily on The Templar lawn, was not one she relished.
‘OK,’ agreed Dermot. ‘Here’s the full itinerary. Finula’s just emailed me.’ He passed her a sheet of A4 paper, with neatly written instruction on.
‘Only just? The wedding’s in a few weeks.’ Christie felt a tad anxious. Although most things had been booked regarding venue, staff and catering, it was the finer details that needed finalising.
‘Well… Finula’s always been a bit… particular. She likes to take her time and get things just right,’ explained Dermot unconvincingly.
Christie rolled her eyes.Last minute, that’s what,she thought with exasperation.
‘I see, let’s have a look then.’ Christie scanned the list. It read like a military operation with precision timing. Finula might be last minute, but she had indeed covered everything, leaving no room for error.
‘OK. That’s us told then.’ She grinned up at Dermot.
‘Like I said, my Finula’s quite particular.’
‘Have you written your speech yet?’
A wicked smirk covered his face. Christie laughed.
‘Oh yes, I know exactly what’s expected of me.’
‘Don’t tell me she’s given instructions on that as well,’ said Christie still laughing.
‘No, but she’s in for a surprise.’ Dermot winked.
Christie had grown to love working with this man who she regarded now as a father figure. He was fun to be around, with his light-hearted banter and kind ways. She knew he was watching out for her and wanted her to succeed in running The Templar. She also suspected he’d been craftily playing cupid between herself and Daniel, by encouraging them to sit down with a bottle of wine he’d had chilled on the bar. She knew he’d approved of Daniel helping her renovate the bedrooms; and last night when Daniel had announced he was going to live in Keeper’s Cottage, he’d practically rubbed his hands together.
As if on cue, Daniel walked into the bar. They were going to Gloucester. Daniel had sourced a company that made bespoke furniture and Christie was eager to collect sample swatches of material from a fabric shop. To say she was looking forward to it was a slight understatement, especially as her heart started to flutter at the sight of him. Looking very sexy in faded jeans that hugged his hard thighs and a dark, fitted jacket, he gave her a smile that displayed his dimples. Irresistible.
‘Hi,’ she breezed, trying to sound as casual as possible.
‘Hi, ready to go?’ he said smoothly, knowing from her expression his appearance was hitting the mark. Daniel had made a real effort, wanting to take things up a notch with Christie, especially now he knew he was staying in Treweham. Today was the perfect opportunity and he fully intended to use it. And, by the look of things so did Christie, he guessed, while assessing her skinny jeans showcasing that pert bottom and the close-fitting, white hoody that her black curls rested on. He longed to unzip it and see what lay beneath.
‘Now you two have a good day,’ called Dermot, ‘and don’t hurry back. I’ll hold the fort, no worries.’
Christie smiled to herself. ‘Thanks, Dermot.’
*
Soon they were entering the cathedral city of the Cotswolds. Christie’s mind wandered back to when it hosted the Rugby World Cup and she and Stephen had visited. Quickly dispelling such thoughts, she glanced towards Daniel who was concentrating on parking his car. He smelt gorgeous, with that fresh sage scent she was beginning to associate with him.
‘Right,’ he said looking at her, ‘I thought we could take a look at the bespoke furniture shop first.’
‘Sounds good. We’ll pick up the fabric swatches last, save carrying them about.’
Once inside the showroom, it was easy to pick out what they wanted, both being on the same wavelength. Deciding on old, rustic charm, rather than modern pine, Christie soon chose the double beds in a dark, weathered wood, which would match the beams beautifully. She chose individual wardrobes in the same wood, but a slightly different design.
‘So, that’s the basics,’ said Daniel. ‘Have you thought about themes for the rooms?’
‘Do you think it’s a bit twee to call them after flowers?’
