Page 43 of Summer Ever After
This was my shot. Every night Christina had asked me if I’d secured tickets for her yet. Her threat to cut off my other braid was thwarted when I did it myself, but what was I supposed to do? Walk around with half a head of long hair and half short – a sideways mullet of sorts? “Mrs. G. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
“What kind of a favor?” She had gone back to scribbling on her whiteboard which surfaces hadn’t been dusted three times in the past week. “I heard that there might be some tickets floating around for the ball. Is it possible to get two? I can pay…a little bit.” I added the last part. Full-price tickets would clean out all the money in my bedroom drawer.
“Rosie Carmichael.” She put the lid on the marker and set it down. “You’re not the first person to ask me about this, but you are the very last person I expected to try to pull strings for tickets.”
I sighed. “I know. I wish that I could explain, but it would mean a lot to me if I could get a couple.”
“We’re going to be working late tomorrow, I’m not sure I could let you off in time to go.”
Shaking my head, I let out a low laugh. “They’re not for me. I’d rather scrub floors than rub elbows.”
This made her smile, a cherubic grin spread across her face. “Tell me about it. Rosie. You’ve been a great worker, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t believe I’d waited so long to ask her. It was the day before the event, but I could still make things a little more hospitable on the home front if I could come home with two of those golden tickets in my hands.
“I can’t promise anything.” She handed me a radio. “Check in with me after lunch.” Clapping her hands, she dismissed me and Tara.
* * *
The mist had liftedfrom the lake and the sun was drying the condensation from the roof of the tent. The catering crew had rolled up the sides of the structure and were moving banquet tables into place. Tara and I approached from the southernmost bridge. We were halfway to the tent when a low hum swept across the water, ripples spread under our feet and I could feel the vibration in my whole body.
“What is that?” Tara stopped and put her hand to her chest.
It happened again, only this time I could place the sound. “It’s the orchestra. They’re tuning their instruments.”
We stepped into the tent behind the stage. The string instruments hummed and plinked as each musician got their instrument in tune. “Wow.” Tara stopped as we rounded the stage. “I’ve been to weddings in tents, but this is something else.”
The inside of the tent was draped in fabric and full-sized chandeliers hung from the ceiling, rocking as the waves from a boat met the floating structure. “It’s going to be magical in the nighttime.” A few of the caterers walked by and I looked to their shoes. “Mrs. Graham is overreacting, there’s no mud in here.”
“Oh well.” Tara shrugged. “Shall we get to steaming?” She held up the steam end of the portable unit we’d lugged from the main cottage.
We spent the morning watching the tent turn into something from a fairytale. Wisteria hung heavily from the ceiling, huge all-white arrangements towered in the center of each table, of which the cloths were impeccably smooth thanks to me and Tara. It looked like a fresh snowfall in June, on top of a lake. We got to work accompanied by the small orchestra – it was the perfect morning. “Did you hear that they hired Norah Jones?” Tara asked. “I love Norah Jones.” Her voice was dreamy as she dragged the steamer over what felt like the three thousandth tablecloth.
Sweat pricked on my forehead, the steamer was doing double duty as a facial treatment. “I heard that they hired Coldplay.” I smoothed out the tablecloth and turned off the steamer. “Should we head up for lunch?”
Tara laughed. “Sure. I’m starving. I sure hope it’s Norah Jones. I’ll be able to hear it at Keystone Point.” Tara had filled me in on her plan to bring a bottle of wine to the public beach and listen to the concert – for free. “But, can you imagine dancing toCome Away with Meon this dance floor?” She grabbed my hand and twirled as we walked across the hardwood dance floor. “You’d probably spin off into the lake.” I spun her in the opposite direction. She giggled, let go, and continued to twirl across the dance floor, flapping her arms like the wings of a bird. “Let’s get lunch.” She skipped out of the tent and over the bridge. I surveyed the tent before leaving, Mrs. G was going to be happy, it looked perfect.
In the lunchroom, Trey dropped into the chair next to Tara. A platter of sandwiches sat in the middle of the harvest table. “What’s this?” He grabbed a ham sandwich and took a bite.
“I think they call that ham.” I couldn’t help myself.
Trey smiled and swallowed his bite. “Did Mrs. G put these out?”
Tara shrugged. “We don’t know. They were out when we got here, along with the charcuterie board.”
“A charcuterie board? Fuck.” Trey shook his head. “That means we’re working late.”
“Weren’t you expecting that?” I took a bite of a roast beef sandwich.
“Yeah.” Trey gestured to the spread of food that looked like it belonged in a fancy hotel along with bottomless mimosas. “This means we're working reaaaally late.”
“He’s right.”
We turned to see Mrs. Graham toddle into the room. “See?” Trey rolled up a slice of prosciutto and popped it into his mouth. The sandwich was the best thing I’d eaten in months. I’d work all night if it meant I had access to an all-you-can-eat gourmet buffet.
Tara opened one of the sandwiches and crinkled her nose. “Aren’t there any vegetarian options?”
Trey plucked the roll of ham off her sandwich. “There. Now it’s vegetarian.”
