“Yes,” Kivi said, then coughed. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Saskia said. “Or make you spill your… whatever this is.”
“Beer. Would you like one?”
Sensing that Kivi was only offering out of politeness, Saskia shook her head. “You might need another one, though. Since you’re wearing most of it.”
Now Kivi shook her head. “No point. I was only drinking it for Dutch courage, anyway. Or rather, to give me my big-girl pants.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who lacks either. Courageorbig-girl pants.”
“Aren’t they one and the same thing? And I don’t. Not when it comes to the guest house. Wedding planning, on the other hand, that’s a whole other ball game.”
“Weddingplanning?”
“Mm. Local couple want me to plan their wedding. Two women. Lovely women, the pair of them, about our age. I think they want to keep it local, and since I’m both Miltree-based and of the Sapphic persuasion myself, I suppose I was the most logical choice.”
Sapphic persuasion, huh?Saskia’s mind flew to her mum and Gilly.
“You have experience, presumably?”
Kivi nodded. “I used to be a wedding planner before I opened this place. That was the business I started aged twenty-one. But I haven’t done it for several years, and I suppose I’ve just lost my mojo with it. That’s what’s stopping me from saying yes. I stopped for a reason, and although that reason isn’t to do with weddingsper se,it still made me want to avoid the whole business…”
“But you want to do it.” This wasn’t a question. Saskia could see it, clear as day. “Otherwise you’d have ruled it out immediately upon being asked.”
“I do want to do it,” Kivi said. “And Iwilldo it. I just need to tell them. And I have to tell them tonight, because I said I would. I asked for a little time to think it over, and that ends tonight. Hence the Dutch courage. And the need for big-girl pants.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of person to let a lack of confidence stop you from doing something you want,” Saskia observed. “You strike me as a‘feel the fear and do it anyway’type of person.”
“I am.” Kivi ran her hands through her hair. “But there’s… more to it than what I’ve said. It’s more complicated.”
“To do with the reason you stopped, presumably,” Saskia said, and Kivi nodded. “Do you mind telling me what that is?”
Kivi sighed through her lips like a horse, then went silent.
“No,” she said eventually. “It’s not appropriate. You’re a guest, and I’m your hostess. I hardly know you. It’s not right, for me to burden you with… what happened.”
Saskia raised her eyebrows. “Well, for the purposes of this conversation, let’s forget that I’m a guest. I’m just your new and interested friend, Saskia. You’re Kivi, erstwhile wedding planner, with something on your mind that you clearly have a degree of desire to share. So… what is it?”
Kivi stared up at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. But you’re going to need a drink. Take a seat.” She stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kivi
Don’t do it, you idiot.
Every fibre of Kivi’s subconscious was flashing up enormous warning signs.She’ll never look at you in the same way again. She won’t respect you. This will change your relationship dynamic irreparably.
But not in a bad way, she mused. Saskia was already proving to be a guest like no other, as evidenced by the pairs of her socks that were currently hanging on Kivi’s airer. She’d never had a guest book to stay for so long. The dynamics between them were bound to be different, surely?
She grabbed two more cans of beer from the fridge, and smiled as Toto wagged his tail in his sleep. He was crashed out in the kitchen, nose placed strategically next to food bowl to detect any impending snacks, and he looked like a giant teddy bear. So much so that she wanted to curl up in his bed next to him and cuddle him. Hide away in his thick golden fur, and not have to deal with the Pandora’s box she was about two minutes away from opening.
“Here,” she said, handing the beer to Saskia as she stepped back out onto the porch. Saskia was sitting on the step, looking miraculously poised with one leg delicately folded over the other, and Kivi bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything more ‘you’. I don’t drink wine. Are you okay with beer?”
“I’m okay with anything,” Saskia said, and gave Kivi a kind smile. “Take a seat.”
“I feel like I’m about to be interviewed,” Kivi grumbled, but did as she bid.
