“Not yet, but it’s coming.” He sighed. “I have to be camera ready.”
“You do realize this is her wedding weekend? And we’re the lowlyunlikely-to-be-featuredworkhorses?”
Linus considered this. “Then call me a Thoroughbred. Think Derby lineage.”
The morning blew by. When the last guests checked out, it was all hands on deck. Josephine and her housekeeping crew swept through the upstairs bedrooms. Windows were thrown open to the salt air. Linens were spritzed with Greta’s homemade lavender spray. Fresh-cut hydrangeas were set in tall vases in each room. Downstairs, vacuums whirred and the kitchen was already humming with preparations for the welcome cocktail party.
Just before the Suttons were expected to roll in, Holly gathered everyone in the parlor for a final pep talk.
“With this being our foray in hosting private-event weekends, I want to put our best foot forward. This is an opportunity for the Cranberry. The Suttons have entrusted us with some of the most meaningful parts of their daughter’s wedding weekend.”
There was some nodding; Linus was practically drooling. “We are their hosts. We are their gathering spot for friends and family, and we are here to make their Cape Cod stay as lovely and seamless as possible. Though the main event for us is the rehearsal dinner on Friday evening, I want to treat every part of this weekend as equally important.”
Linus, who’d handed out copies of the Suttons’ itinerary, took over from there. “Family will begin arriving at two-thirty. We have welcome champagne and Nantucket gift baskets filled with snacks and luxury treats for each guest room. At four-thirty we’ll start cocktail hour on the patio, with appetizers.” He looked to Greta, who nodded sternly in agreement. Holly was a little worried about Greta; professional as she was, this was a new level even for her. “At seven, the shuttle will ferry guests to Ridgevale Beach for their sunset clambake. Let’s remind them to bring wraps and sweaters. Also, I have fashioned for them custom personal citronella spray bottles, which will be by the front door.” Linus paused for some kind of applause at this small detail. When no one did, Holly went on.
“That’s just today’s schedule. Remember, we have four to get through. Any questions?”
Looking at their faces, Holly was reminded of the trepidation of opening day. “We’ve had a strong start to the season, and each of you is to thank for that. Let’s offer the Suttons the same extraordinary level of service this weekend for their special event.”
Holly took a calming breath as the staff dispatched to their areas. “One day at a time,” she whispered to herself.
“It’s all you can do.” When she turned around, Francine stood in the parlor doorway. Of course Bee hovered in the lobby behind her. “Don’t worry!” Francine said. “You won’t see a peep of me after this. I just wanted to hear the staff meeting.”
To Holly’s relief, she at least seemed to have changed her tune regarding the incoming wedding guests. “Honey, I’m glad you talked me into trying a private-event weekend. I always thought they’d be too much work, but it sounds like you’ve thought ofeverything. I’m proud of you.” When Francine pulled her in for a hug, Holly was surprised by the press of tears in her eyes.
“I hope you’re right.”
Her grandmother folded her own copy of the itinerary. “You know I love a good wedding. If you need any last-minute help with cocktail hour or the bridal brunch, we’re just around the corner.”
Holly held up her hands. “Nope. I see where this is going. Which is why it’s time for you ladies to go.” She nodded toward the door.
Bee sidled up. “If we could just snag one of those Nantucket baskets on the way out…”
“Shoo!” Holly told them both.
She made a final sweep of the property, upstairs and down, inside and out. The French doors to the back patio were thrown open. Oliver had swept the flagstone, after washing all the blue and white cushions for the lounge chairs. The flower beds were freshly mulched and the cast iron urns teeming with flowers. Firepits were loaded with seasoned logs, ready to go. Holly exhaled.
“Phone call,” Linus said, from a set of French doors. “It’s the clambake company.”
Holly took the call as she strode through the lobby.
“Holly, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Paige Lambert was the owner of Beachworks Catering, one of the best in the area. “The town has revoked our permit for tonight.”
“What?” Holly almost shouted.
“I know it’s a shock. I just came back from Town Hall. They claim that a permit was issued to another party before ours, and due to a clerical mix-up two permits were mistakenly given.”
“Well, they have to honor them both, right? I mean, we made this reservation months ago. We’ve got twenty people who expect to climb on a shuttle bus and slurp clams in a few hours.”
“Tell me about it. I have thirty pounds of lobster in my walk-in.”
Holly’s heart was pounding now. This was the first event of the Suttons’ stay. It could not all go bust on night one. “Where does this leave us?”
Linus was straining to listen in on the call.What’s going on?he mouthed. Holly shooed him.
Paige groaned. “I begged, I harangued. I even suggested we could share the site with the other party, but the town won’t budge. Site regulations. I’m really sorry, Holly. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
Holly wanted to scream. Was Paige throwing in the towel? The Suttons had spent a small fortune on this event, all of it organized through Holly. The axe would fall right here at the Cranberry. Right on her smart chignon.
