by Laura Briggs
"Have you seen what they've done in the clearing?" I asked. I knew that the temporary seating — rows of sleek, uniform black metal folding chairs with black leather padding — had been arriving on a second removal van today.
"William took photos and sent them to me from his mobile," said Lady Amanda. "Not quite the Minack Theater, of course, but terribly impressive nonetheless. I wish I was going to sit in one instead of scurry around with members of the press in between checking on the staff."
Lady Amanda was taking full advantage of the entertainment reporters at the private concert as the manor's official spokesperson, to guarantee that the village's name appeared in as many publications as possible. No doubt the local business council was cheering her on, especially the struggling merchants and unemployed villagers who had heard Nathan Menton's speech about boosting the economy.
But then came the 'emmets,' I supposed, and felt a twinge of regret for the possibility. Would Ceffylgwyn be the same if the sidewalks were crowded with sightseers who ignored the village's ways or made fun of locals' manners? If the shore was packed with tourists trying to photograph rare birds, or packing themselves into boats for a pleasure cruise along the cliffs?
I tried to imagine lines for oggies outside Charlotte's shop, even though it was in the poorest part of the village. I imagined the possibility of pickpockets and petty thefts, as less scrupulous people paid a visit to the village, too.
I was still pondering the good and bad possibilities of change, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Julianne, the florist has a little problem with the flowers for the champagne reception," said Gemma, who was holding the manor's telephone. "And did you order something for Pippa's reception?"
"I did," I said.
"Well, it's all coming here tomorrow," she said.
"What?" I took the phone from her.
The florist confirmed Gemma's words. "We're terribly sorry about this," said Marian Jones, the local florist. "I do wish that there was another way, but we've been shorthanded, and completely overwhelmed with orders ever since David Willow closed his shop temporarily after the fire."
"But I really do need them delivered the day of," I said. "I can't possibly finish all those arrangements on my own — we're in the same boat you are, frankly." Not to mention, I didn't have room for so many half-finished arrangements, plus the loose flowers for Pippa — the rest of which were still waiting in Matthew's care.
"If we could just pick them up ourselves," I began, envisioning me, Geoff, and Gemma stuffing large bouquets into Geoff's tiny car and rushing back to the manor with them.
"I wish it were possible — I would even entrust you with my spare key — except the whole place is being fumigated. I can't let even the slightest blossom stay here, and I've no more room at home. I'm afraid the Silver Perch and the Trawley-Pennans wedding are having to do the same as you."
"All right," I said. "Any time this afternoon is fine."
The whole pantry was now crammed with flowers — big white gladiolas and lilies for the post-concert reception, and the modest, brightly-colored loose blossoms for Pippa's wedding. Even with Gemma's help, I found myself working late to snip stems on the newly-rested hothouse flowers to finish the last couple of arrangements that Marian Jones had been forced to put aside.
By suppertime, the clear vases and showy white flowers looked beautiful on tables in the foyer. By eight o' clock that night, I was still working on putting Pippa's flowers in the darkened closet to 'rest,' my fingers crossed that they would be fine until her big day. But a big knot of worry was in my heart for this decision, too.
"You look exhausted," said Matthew. I could see concern in his eyes as he greeted me — two hours late for our meal — when I opened the door to the cottage.
"I am," I admitted. I kicked off my red Jimmy Choo high heels, not caring that one bounced against the leg of our worn-out armchair. "Have you cut the flowers for Pippa's wedding yet?"
"I delivered them to Cliffs House late today," he said. "Dinah took charge of them. I thought I might see you while I was there, but you had dashed off to the outdoor theater to help arrange the seating, I gathered. But I didn't want the blossoms to be exhausted before you had them — the sun's been rather bright these last few days in the hothouse."
"Trust Cornwall's weather to keep the rain at bay just when I need a cloudy day," I said, with a wry smile. I accepted the cup of tea Matthew handed me as I sat down at our kitchen table.
I felt his hand take mine. "Forget about flowers for a little while," he said. "That's usually my concern, not yours."
"I know," I answered. I sighed. "My head is just too full of all these issues. It's crunch time, you realize...I can't let Pippa down for her big day after all the times I've reassured her it will be perfect ... and I can't help worrying about Kitty."
Matt's fingers massaged mine, a pleasant, reassuring sensation traveling through my skin in response. "I'll come and help," he said. "As soon as I'm home from university, I'll rush to Cliffs House and help you finish some of these tasks."
"Thanks," I said, smiling. "But I don't think it's a good idea. The place will be crawling with security by tomorrow, since Wendy's due to arrive. Even Lord William's word that you belong there probably won't be enough — all of us will be wearing color-coded badges, courtesy of the event promoter, to ensure we won't be ordered off the grounds."
"I could sneak in," he said. "I'll steal one of those security tags off an unsuspecting staffer."
"No, you won't," I said, imprisoning his fingers in mine now. "You'll be busy enough tomorrow with all the students who can't wait to ask you questions about their assignments...especially the ones who spent their whole class period daydreaming about you instead of paying attention."
Matt blushed. "I highly doubt that," he said. But he had heard more than enough sly comments and dreamy sighs from girls like Gemma and Pippa to have any doubt about my words' meaning.
I kissed his cheek, laughing. "Well, I don't," I answered. I drew back, gazing into his dark eyes. "So what have you cooked for dinner?"
"More reheated pasties, I'm afraid. I didn't have time to simmer a stew, or get some takeaway."
"Sounds perfect," I said. "Dish me up one. I'm going to change into something that doesn't have a fitted pencil skirt." I gave him a smile as I pulled off my business jacket and made my way towards the closet where more comfortable garments — like my fleece pajamas — were waiting.
***
"No one gets by without a badge, thanks. You have one? Good. Go on in." Nathan waved them inside with a smile. But despite that smile's calm exterior, I was fairly sure that he was a tense mass of concentration inside.
"Badge?" he said to me. I smiled and flashed a pink plastic card from beneath my overcoat. "Perfect," he said, breathing a sigh. "Go right inside." He glanced over my shoulder. "Hey, you — stop right there! Jim, hold them at the side entrance, will you?" he said, speaking into a small hand radio. With that, he was off, a determined look on his face that didn't bode well for the non-badge wearing member of Cliffs House's staff.
Chaos had descended over the house on the eve of the big day, with lots of grim-faced strangers in security attire inspecting every last corner of Cliffs House and its gardens. Two were posted at the house's drive, one stood at every entrance, and several others were patrolling the garden and the newly-landscaped pathway to the outdoor stage.
I checked my schedule on my mobile phone. Meet with Lady Amanda; make sure complimentary gift baskets are delivered to blue spare bedroom (dressing room); phone caterers about canapé delivery; help Dinah with savory biscuit trays.... Pippa's flowers!! with a double exclamation point, was at the very end of it.
It was definitely another late night in store for me, and all because I hadn't stayed longer last night. I was hoping that the weariness and stress I was battling could be put aside by a cup of Dinah's coffee — made 'American style,' as she put it, for me and the new event promoter.
Already a little
crowd had begun to form at the gated-off drive to the manor. I saw lots of hopeful-looking teenage girls in t-shirts with the album cover printed on the front, holding balloons and flowers. The local kids puffed slightly with pride at the sight — they were safely on the inside of the gates, wearing the official 'badges' that gave them hope they might glimpse the diva when she arrived.
Lady Amanda and I had our hands full for most of the afternoon — a number of temporary staffers and a few of the manor's usual ones had neglected to wear their security badges, and we were forced to vouch for them before the security team and Nathan in order to get them admitted. Gemma was swamped with last-minute cleaning and furniture rearrangement — and when word came that the diva herself might be shuttled to Ceffylgwyn early with her chauffeur and assistant, panic broke out among staff and security alike.
Exhausted, I pushed open the door to the flower pantry at five o' clock. Normally, I would be finishing up my emails and logging my receipts in preparation for a long evening spent in Matt's company, but tonight would be a long evening spent with Pippa's flowers.
Except the flowers were done.
At first, I panicked — the row of freshly-cleaned vases was gone from the center of the table. Had someone mistaken them for a decoration for the post-concert party? I opened the cupboards, frantically, then the door to the 'resting closet' and found them sitting on its shelves. The original buckets which had held Matt's cuttings and the floral flowers were now empty, for in each vase the sprigs of magenta, yellow, orange, and white were arranged identically, stems trimmed to the just-right height.
I stared. In the middle, a bigger glass vase held the remaining blossom sprays, arranged with several of Matt's heather sprigs and the lilies I had ordered. In clean buckets of fresh water and plant preservative, I found the newly-cut flowers for Pippa's bouquet and the ones for the altar garland.
It would have taken hours of work to do all of this, and it wasn't me in my sleep who had accomplished it. Gemma, I thought. But no, Gemma hadn't seen my sketches — and Pippa hadn't been at Cliffs House for two days now —
Kitty had been here. But why? After she had been so annoyed, I couldn't imagine why she would do this.
"Have you seen Kitty — the girl who was helping me a few days ago?" I asked Nathan, who was posted at the door again, his fingers flying over his smart phone's keypad in a text.
"Who?" he said. "Her? No. Nobody comes through unless they picked up a badge yesterday morning, like I told them." He pulled up a digital checklist of names. "What name did you say?"
"Kitty Alderson," I repeated.
"No. No Kitty...no Alderson. Why?" He glanced up. "Was someone here unauthorized?"
"Maybe?" I tried to imagine how Kitty had gotten past security. Had she slipped through the back door when Dinah was out of the kitchen? The door on the other side of the manor? But security had been in place since last night, meaning Kitty must have used her reputed 'shady' skills to get inside.
"I need a quick word with security on the south and east sides of the estate," said Nathan, speaking into the radio's mouthpiece. "We might have a possible breach on one of those sides."
Charlotte wasn't behind the counter of the fish and chips shop when I pushed the door open, hearing the door's friendly bell jingle above. Instead, Kitty was sweeping the floor, a flour-dusted red apron covering her old tartan-print flannel shirt and worn jeans. She glanced up, a wary expression crossing her face at the sight of me.
"I guess I missed you at Cliffs House this morning," I said. "What time were you there? Four a.m.? Five?"
Kitty shrugged. "Just early," she answered.
"They looked great, by the way. I couldn't have done it better myself."
"Great," said Kitty. She swept out a corner beneath the counter.
"I still can't imagine why you did it, though," I continued. "You seemed pretty angry the other day. I didn't think you'd come back. Especially not to finish Pippa's flowers." She and Pippa didn't like each other, that much was clear. Wasn't finishing the flower arrangements for one of your least-favorite people one of the last things girls like Kitty were supposed to do?
"The big arrangement's short some," said Kitty, offhandedly. "But you could always fill it out a bit with some tulips. There's some that's been forced already in the hothouse."
I waited a moment, but she didn't say anything else. "You know," I said, "I could still use a little help tomorrow night for the concert. And there's something special I'd like to do for Pippa's reception site, and I need an extra pair of hands there, too...it could be kind of challenging. Especially on my own."
Kitty stopped sweeping. She turned to me. "What'd you have in mind?" she asked.
She rested one hand on her hip, her eyes on the portfolio in my hand. It was the first time she actually sounded interested in our conversation since we'd begun — the tough shell had cracked a little with her curiosity.
"Stained glass," I said, opening the folder on the counter and showing her the transparent sheets of colored paper, and the design I had drawn. "It's your idea, really. When I saw what you did to the dollhouse, it made me think of those big, high windows in the barn. I had compared them to church windows before...so why not turn them into the real thing?"
Kitty's face was completely different when she looked at my sketches. A quick, alert gaze took in my pencil strokes for the window and the color patterns, and the delicate, slightly crinkled texture of the colored sheets. She couldn't hide her interest, and I imagined that mentally she had already applied them to the windows herself.
"Anyway," I said, closing the folder. "If you have some time, and Charlotte can spare you, I'd love to have a hand." From my pocket, I took a rectangle of pink plastic and laid it on the counter: a spare security tag from the event promoter's stash.
Nathan didn't have to worry about me leaving it on the counter for a possible stranger to find. I felt sure that tag would be tucked in Kitty's pocket the moment I was gone.
***
Wendy Alistair breezed into town five hours before her concert, her chauffeur making his way through the security barricade at the gates, where a growing crowd of screaming fans waved their heart-covered, glittery signs frantically despite the car's tinted windows blocking any view of the singer.
Wendy Alistair herself breezed through the foyer quickly as well, wrapped in a white silk coat and cashmere scarf. She paused long enough to take off her oversized designer sunglasses, admire the flowers, and give a charming smile to a photographer before making her way upstairs.
As per her assistant's demands, the staff kept their distance, including the almost-swooning Lina and Darla. When the singer and her entourage had retreated safely to her dressing room, I heard Gemma let out a squeal of excitement. "Oh my gosh, we just saw the Wendy Alistair!"
"Go on with you," said Dinah, sarcastically — who, nonetheless, had found an excuse to be upstairs, near the dining room doorway, when the star made her grand entrance. "I'm sure it was the thrill of her day, seeing you, too."
The concert was scheduled to begin an hour before sunset — it was being filmed out of order, with the sunset view of the sea and the fireworks display coming before the songs being performed in the ballroom. Of course, this timing meant a long evening lay ahead before the inevitable champagne toasts for Wendy's upcoming album, complete with costume changes, lighting mishaps, and other delays.
For the concert, I wore my most sensible black party dress paired with my red heels and minimal jewelry — it was my job to look nice while directing champagne waiters and crew assistants, but look more professional than the guests who would be in black tie and posh frocks. As security escorted them to their seats — and evicted a few desperate fans who had climbed over the west hedgerows — I made my way through the final checklist of serving trays, spare decorative candles, and uniform inspection for the nervous servers standing by.
"That's the last of the trays, Dinah says," Kitty announced, returning from the direction of th
e kitchen. "There's only thirty more coming than she expected. Bit of a mix up, but not bad."
Kitty had already helped me shoo away unauthorized members of the press and lay out two more last-minute trays of caviar spread and savory biscuits. Truthfully, she had made herself useful all day, showing up first thing this morning with the pink security tag I had given her clipped in place.
Tonight, instead of her worn jeans and hooded jackets, she wore a somewhat faded charcoal cardigan and a short grey skirt. Her hair was slightly crimped from being pinned up untidily before, but she had pulled it back neatly with a decorative hair clip; and her red sneakers had been traded for a pair of slightly scuffed ballet flats that I was fairly sure were several years old and a size too small.
The fact that she dressed up for tonight surprised me beyond words — but I knew to be careful when calling attention to the fact before Kitty herself. "You look nice, Kitty," I said. "Grey suits you almost as much as red does."
"It's just some old stuff I had lying around," said Kitty, feigning indifference. "I'm not dressed posh, or anything. Like any of this lot would care."
"I don't know," I said. "I think you'd be surprised." I imagined the surprise of the likes of Lina when she saw Kitty in something besides her baggy old togs; then I thought of an example that would probably interest Kitty more. "Imagine what Nathan Menton would think if he saw you now," I suggested. "He actually paid you a compliment the other day, despite the incident in the courtyard." Well, almost a compliment, I decided. "Besides that, I think he noticed you're quite pretty," I added. Which was true enough, I felt.
Two quick spots of color flashed in Kitty's pale cheeks, a scornful look on her face. "As if I'd ever be with a toff like that —" she began, then paused. "That is ... I don't think the likes of me and Mr. Menton are very compatible, are we?" she corrected. Her posture straightened, her arms crossed as she tilted her chin with affected airs. "We have differences of opinion."
