Page 21 of Pumpkin Spice at a Deadly Price
“You read my mind.” I grab my coat, and we head toward the Cozy Bean, the little café recently converted from what used to be a utility closet just off the main rotunda. It’s amazing what some exposed brick, Edison bulbs, and an espresso machine can do to transform a room where mops once went to die.
The Cozy Bean embraces fall with an enthusiasm that borders on obsessive. Every surface features some combination of mini pumpkins, acorns, or leaves. The fireplace crackles merrily in the corner, surrounded by overstuffed armchairs upholstered in fabrics that look like they were woven from flannel shirts and good intentions. The scent of cinnamon, cloves, and coffee creates an olfactory hug that wraps around you the moment you step inside.
We order pumpkin spice lattes that come topped with whipped cream, cinnamon dust, and tiny fondant leaves, because apparently, regular whipped cream isn’t festive enough. Newsflash, it’s not.
The barista, who’s wearing a headband with bobbing turkey antennae, hands us our seasonal heart attacks in a cup with a cheerfulness that suggests she’s either new or heavily medicated.
“So,” I say as we settle into armchairs by the fire, Cricket immediately claiming Winnie’s lap while Rookie sprawls at her feet. “How’s the wedding planning going?”
Winnie takes a sip of her latte, leaving a whipped cream mustache that she doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re keeping it simple.”
Simpleis Winnie-speak foronly moderately extravagant. What follows is a list of wedding details that would make a royal planner break into a cold sweat.
“Just a small ceremony in the grand ballroom at Willoughby Hall—we’re only inviting three hundred of our closest friends and family.” She waves her hand as if three hundred people is practically eloping. “The reception will be in the gardens,weather permitting, with fairy lights in all the topiary animals and a string quartet on the terrace. We’ve hired that chef from Boston—you know, the one who was on that cooking show?—to create a specialized menu featuring Fitz’s family recipes reimagined with modern techniques.”
“So... molecular gastronomy meets old money?”
“Exactly! And for dessert, instead of a traditional cake, we’re having a six-tier installation of petit fours decorated to look like tiny versions of Willoughby Hall through the seasons.”
“That sounds...”
“Simple, right?” She beams. “Oh, and we’re releasing doves at sunset.”
“Of course, you are.” I take a fortifying gulp of my latte. “What about Neelie? Any updates on her Valentine’s Day extravaganza?”
Winnie rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “I can’t believe she’s actually going to marry that cheating old coot. Stanton Troublefield is trouble, indeed.”
“Hence the name.”
“She’s ordered a dress that requires six bridesmaids just to carry the train. Six! And it’s covered in so many crystals that it’s technically a safety hazard if sunlight hits it directly.”
“Blinding the wedding guests—a bold choice.”
“The cake is going to be shaped like Stanton’s face.”
I choke on my latte. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. Apparently, it’s to show her ‘devotion to his visage.’ Those were her actual words.”
“That’s... disturbing on multiple levels.”
“She’s also hired synchronized swimmers to perform in the country club pool, which will be filled with rose petals and floating candles.”
“That sounds like a fire hazard.”
“The entire wedding is a hazard—to good taste, to her future, to our family’s reputation.” Winnie sighs. “But what can we do? She’s determined to marry him.”
“Maybe he’ll run off with his receptionist before Valentine’s Day.”
“We can only hope.”
Winnie’s phone bleats, and she checks it with a frown. “I’ve got to run. There’s an issue with the east wing renovation at Willoughby Hall. Something about the contractor finding another secret passage that wasn’t in the blueprints.”
“Ah, the trials of living in a mansion with more rooms than some small countries.”
She stands, gathering her coat and giving Cricket one last scratch behind the ears.
“By the way”—she says as she buttons up—“you’re next to get engaged. I can see it coming a mile away. You and Killion are perfect for each other.”
