Page 58 of Moonshine and Magnolias
He took in her empty hands. “Did you forget it?”
“I mean, I was putting away a serving tray.” Her eyes darted to the threshold leading to the hallway, signaling her desperation. “Can I get anything for you?”
Oh, what the hell. “What can you tell me about this photograph?”
A look of relief crossed her face and she hustled over to the one he indicated. “That’s Isaac and Caroline Clayton, standing on the back end of the property. We had some old buildings there once, but they came down long ago.” She squinted at his uncle and tapped the picture. “I don’t know that guy, though. A sharecropper? No, he looks too business like. Maybe he’s the one that broke Aunt Caroline’s heart. I assume you heard that story?”
“When Ms. Eulalee was helping us with the journals, yes.”
“Hmmm.” Brandi brushed some hair back from her face. “Why the interest? Think he’s the man you were sent here to research?”
Apparently Wendy hadn’t shared the Upshaws’ reason for being at the Hall. “Very, very possibly. Is there a way to find out his name?”
Brandi shook her head. “Aunt Eulalee or Wendy might know more.”
***
Wendy sat in the antique office chair with her pencils on the desk, newly sharpened and tips aligned. For once, her preparation hadn’t amounted to anything. Brandi slumped in a metal chair, staring at her with a smirk and her knee bouncing, with Sebastien on a stool behind her. Jordan stood in front of a perfectly organized flip chart, holding a freakin’ laser pointer.
Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. This was all wrong.
If Wendy hadn’t been so preoccupied with the fear of Rob coming down to breakfast before she could escape, she never would have agreed to listen to Jordan’s plans for the wedding. Fountenoy Hall had a set of no-fail guidelines that needed no embellishments for the activities it hosted.
Never mind that her friend’s ideas were brilliant. This was Wendy’s Hall, her event, her responsibility. The responsibility she had inherited, even when she had another job and another apartment and roots in another city, so she damn well should take charge of it. “You’re kinda taking over here, Jordan.”
“I know! I kept coming up with ideas last night, so I wrote them all down.” She waved the laser light to her line sketch of Fountenoy Hall. “Like how beautiful and symbolic it would be for the brides to walk down the split staircase at the same time and meet in front. And we’d need to figure out what rooms to use for them to get ready. Two women can take up a lot of space with stuff. I think having one of them in the stables might be best, to keep them from seeing each other.”
“We’ve had weddings here before. What do the notes say?” Wendy settled back in her chair with a deep breath before Jordan could answer, determined to relax. Letting someone else run a meeting would be good for her. Brandi would have to do it when she left, so having Jordan with her usual efficiency should be a positive experience.
Until her body decided otherwise.
Wendy’s vision suddenly made the room tilt to the side, and she grabbed the arms of the chair to steady herself. Her heart beat a cadence faster than a drum roll. She exhaled slowly, hoping to calm her inner turmoil. Was this reaction becauseshe was letting someone else do her work? Or was it the thought of going back to Atlanta?
“Your grandma knew her stuff. The wedding guide book is fantastic, but it’s for a bride and groom,” Jordan said. “This is for two brides. A whole other ball game.”
“Watch out, everyone,” Sebastien said. “Jordan’s on a mission.”
She flapped her hand at him. “Stop. And I thought this would take some of the stress off you for the retirement party tomorrow.”
“It is. You’re doing a great job.” Brandi glared at Wendy as if daring her say anything.
Jordan checked her notes. “How’s the search for the chef going?”
“We found one. Anthon.” Wendy said, forcing her voice to remain steady. Something hard poked at her chest and she rubbed it while she blinked to clear her vision. “He’s coming later today to help with dinner so Eulalee can put him through her paces.”
“His experience?”
She didn’t need Jordan’s permission. Anthon had graduated from the Culinary Institute of American, but she answered with a clipped tone anyway. “He responded and was available.”
Jordan snorted. “That’s not a very good resume.”
“Good thing you’re not the one doing the hiring, then.” What the hell was wrong with her? Jordan didn’t need that sort of attitude, not when she was spending vacation time to visit with Wendy and her cousin.
Jordan smoothed the hair already pulled tight into a bun and turned back to her chart. “Our brides are okay using the same flowers from the retirement party on Sunday, so we have to make sure they don’t wilt. Brandi, you have to get rid of the flowers Pearl’s allergic to. Wendy has the list; she’ll email it to you.”
“Check.” Brandi made a note on her phone.
Wendy struggled to inhale. There wasn’t enough air in the room for her lungs. “I should be the one doing this.”
