Page 2 of Fall Surprises
"This is lovely," I said, genuinely impressed. "It’s perfect for what I need this week."
"We aim to please," Rory smiled, handing me an old-fashioned key. "This is more for tradition than security—no one locks their doors in Wintervale. But it's yours for your stay."
"The kitchen is available to you any time," Cass added. "Gus, our chef, usually prepares dinner between six and eight, but he can work around your schedule."
"I'll need to discuss the wedding menu with him tonight, if possible," I said, mentally reviewing my timeline. "Is he available?"
Rory and Cass exchanged a quick glance I couldn't interpret.
"He should be in the kitchen now," Rory replied. "Gus is... passionate about his cooking. You'll find him very talented."
There was something in her tone that made me curious, but I didn't have time to analyze it.
"We'll leave you to get settled," Cass said. "Just come down when you're ready."
After they left, I immediately began transforming the room into my mobile office. My laptop went on the desk, connected to my portable second monitor. I arranged my color-coded binders chronologically on the desk's built-in bookshelf, and pinned my master timeline to the corkboard I'd brought.
I texted Emma, my assistant back in Denver, to let her know I'd arrived safely, then opened Instagram to check Raven's latest posts. The bride had shared three more photos since I'd left Denver—all featuring her and her sister Stormi posing with wedding-themed props and demanding that her followers guess details about the ceremony.
I sighed, seeing the hashtag #RavenTakesFlight attached to each post. With 3.2 million YouTube subscribers and a reality TV crew documenting the wedding, this event would be scrutinized by more eyes than I could comprehend. My business could skyrocket or implode based on the success of the next five days.
My phone rang with a FaceTime call from Raven herself. I quickly adjusted my expression and answered with my media-ready smile I'd perfected over years of handling neurotic brides.
"Sam! There you are!" Raven's heavily filtered face filled my screen, her long black hair extensions framing her features. "Tell me you've arrived and everything is going to be absolutely magical!"
"Just got here, Raven. The inn is absolutely stunning—it exceeds expectations."
"It better!" She laughed, the sound like glass breaking. "Now, you remembered my food sensitivities, right? No gluten, no dairy, no soy, no nuts, no nightshades—"
Raven's voice rose with each supposed 'catastrophe' on her list. "The napkins MUST be folded like little witch hats to fit my theme, not those totally un-inspired envelope things I saw at my cousin's wedding. And did I mention my new gluten-dairy-nightshade-oxygen sensitivity?"
"It's all in my notes," I assured her, pulling up her file on my tablet. "I'll be discussing the menu with the chef tonight."
"Perfect! And Blaze wants a special groom's cake that looks like a football helmet. Can we add that?"
I sighed inwardly. A football helmet cake—what else would a former NFL quarterback want?
I made a note, swallowing my frustration at the last-minute request. "Of course. Not a problem."
After promising to send photos of the venue and reassuring her twelve more times that everything was under control, I finally ended the call. The familiar vise of tension tightened around my temples. I glanced at the slim silver watch that had been my graduation gift to myself—7 PM. Time to find the kitchen and the chef.
I made my way downstairs, following the scent of something delicious cooking. The kitchen was at the back of the inn, a commercial-grade setup that maintained the historic charm of the building. The appliances were top-of-the-line but seamlessly incorporated into the vintage aesthetic.
A man stood with his back to me at the center island, completely absorbed in whatever he was chopping. His shoulders were broad under his white chef's coat, his dark hair slightly too long and curling at the nape of his neck. The steady rhythm of his knife hitting the cutting board filled the kitchen.
"Excuse me," I called.
He didn't react, continuing his chopping as if I weren't there.
"Excuse me," I tried again, louder this time.
Still nothing. Not even a pause in his movements. Was he deliberately ignoring me? My patience, already worn thin by Raven's demands, snapped entirely. I stepped forward and tapped his shoulder, definitely harder than I intended.
He whirled around, knife still in hand, green eyes widening with surprise. "What the hell?"
I jumped back, heart racing. "I—I was trying to get your attention."
He reached up and yanked out a pair of earbuds I hadn't been able to see from behind, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation as he took me in. "And you are?"
