Page 68 of A Billionaire for Christmas
‘But why didn’t you say anything to Toby when he brought it up from the cellar?’ Molly was growing exasperated with this family.
‘Because I wanted to see what it was like.’ Lucca shrugged. ‘For professional reasons, obviously. And just as well, really. Freeds, honey, I think you should reconsider that vintage. I really do.’
‘And are you going to tell your mother that you opened the wine on purpose?’ Molly put her hands on her hips. ‘Or at least come clean to Toby. He thinks it was all his fault. Although, he seems extraordinarily comfortable for me to take the blame.’
‘Christ, no. Imagine the fuss! I’m in enough trouble as it is. Now, Freda, darling, what are you going to do with your life after the wedding? How many scrawny nieces and nephews am I to expect?’
It was as though Molly had become invisible yet again.
Freda stared out of the window as though in a trance. ‘I’m still thinking about options. It’s hard when you don’t know which country you’ll be living in. Or what you want to do. Where do I even start?’
Molly gave Freda a supportive stroke on the arm. She appreciated her predicament. ‘You could start with picking up those olives.’
‘Funny.’ Freda laughed as though Molly wasn’t serious and threw an olive at her too. ‘I like you. I like you a lot.’
Exasperating. The lot of them.
‘What will you do next, Molly? After the season ends?’ Lucca asked her. He too was making no move to pick up the olives.
Molly stopped piping quince glaze onto tiny slivers of Manchego cheese and bent to pick them up herself. ‘If your mother doesn’t have me slung in jail for wine theft, I’ll get my restaurant business back up and running. Before your brother can get his hands on it.’ There were only two days left to get everything to the solicitor. With all the distractions this family were providing, it was beginning to seem less and less likely. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt as she threw the olives in the bin. ‘Please stop throwing food at each other.’
Lucca grinned in response. ‘Well, if these dishes are anything to go by, you’ll have no problem bringing clients in.’
If Ava had still been alive, it might be no problem, but Molly was certain running the business alone was going to be too daunting. She had no idea where to start with marketing, managing bookings and hiring equipment and staff. That was all Ava’s field of expertise.
‘I’m sure Freda will hire you for the wedding. Won’t you?’
A pained look crossed Freda’s face before she answered. ‘Yes. Sure. Of course.’
Molly felt for her. Freda was going to have to admit that the wedding was off eventually. But obviously today wasn’t going to be the day. ‘I’m sure you don’t need me for the wedding. There must be a thousand catering companies fighting for the contract.’ Molly wiped her hands on her apron and received a grateful smile from Freda. ‘Could one of you start peeling some potatoes, please?’
Neither of them made a move. Molly picked up her piping bag. The potatoes would have to peel themselves.
‘Mother said you were hoping to get the Henri brothers in. They have three Michelin stars between them,’ Lucca was saying, oblivious to his sister’s mood plummeting. ‘I will provide the booze of course, once we set the menus. And our dear brother can pay me extortionate amounts for overpriced wines. I was thinking, have you considered Monaco? I could probably get the Prince’s Palace as a venue for the five days. People can fly or sail in?—’
Freda let out a frustrated cry and slid off the bench. ‘Can we stop talking about the goddamn wedding? I’m sick of it. It’s all anyone talks about!’
Lucca and Molly stopped what they were doing.
‘There are other things happening in the world,’ she said loudly, stomping over to the fridge. ‘There’s a bloody war on, the planet’s burning around us, and it looks as though Louis Vuitton are discontinuing my favourite crossbody bag.’
Lucca gasped jokingly. ‘The one with the clean lines and sleek chain?’
Freda yanked out a bottle of wine and held it aloft. ‘Yes. It’s left me traumatised. Anyone care to join me?’
Lucca gave Molly a worried look as though wanting her to intervene, perhaps wrestle his sister to the ground and prise the bottle from her depressed, heartbroken fingers.
‘Too early for me,’ said Molly softly. ‘And too early for any of us.’ She raised her eyebrows at Freda. ‘Besides, we still have the rest of this romantic evening to organise. Did you sort out the cards for the quiz?’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Lucca quickly. ‘We’ll get straight on it. Freeds, we’ll leave Molly to crack on here. You come with me to finish the table settings and we’ll write out the cards to go with each round of the degustation. We only have a few hours to go before dinner.’
Freda reluctantly put the wine back in the fridge. Molly watched Lucca guide her over to the dining table. He stopped to throw her a grateful look over his shoulder.
Was every member of this family unable to tell the truth?
Molly busied herself filling a plate full of canapés and leftover pork, gravy and roasties to take to Toby. Even though she was still mad at him, he’d had the good grace to avoid her. She suspected he was hiding in his room as per instructions. She left the siblings reminiscing in hushed whispers and knocked quietly on Toby’s door. He answered immediately, took one look at the plate of food and scooped Molly into a hug. ‘I can explain. I’m so sorry about not telling Levi about the wine.’
‘I understand.’
