That was true. Through the window, Cass could see the ferry approaching the harbor. So what if Virginia and her clique had been bitchy. Cass was about to be filmed and if forgiveness was the cost of getting decent make up done, so be it. “Will a make up artist be coming?” Virginia continued.
“No—the one who was lined up decided not to make the trip. They are trying to find one.”
“Well, would you tell them about me?”
Virginia was fast, in no time she had evened out Cass’s skin tone, contoured a little under her chin which hid the fat neck she was suddenly aware of and defined her lips in a way that managed to be both very pretty and mostly natural looking. Cass had been sent clothes by Tabby, and she had chosen to wear a sage green wool fitted jacket with skirt and boots. Left to her own devices she might be in stained PJ pants and one of Killian’s Lakers tee shirts. Between Tabby and Virginia, she looked pretty terrific, no denying that. “No doubt about it, I will. You pretty much rock!” Virginia followed her out of the apartment and down the stairs.
Ben-ediction
Cass made it down to greet the ferry. She was aware of Ben, a cameraman she’d worked with before, walking behind a couple that could only be Chelsea and Jacko. If anything Chelsea was more perfectly pretty than she had appeared in her photo. Her white blonde hair had a perfectly formed messy bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a red corduroy jacket over a black turtleneck, skinny jeans and expensive boots. Jacko wore aviator glasses, and a navy ski jacket. His hair was dark and spiky. Aware of the camera, Cass approached her guests and was surprised when Chelsea gathered her into a warm embrace. The chef had expected Chelsea to be cool and poised. She wasn't. “Cass, these are my parents, Ed and Amelia Barrett,” the bride said exuberantly. Amelia Barrett—painful experience had taught Cass to always pay special attention to the mother of the bride—was as elegant as her daughter. She was not quite as friendly.
“Oh Chelsea, I was right, we should have stuck with the Vineyard, or Klosters. This town is charmless.” Cass felt Killian freeze behind her. Slick Trench was not, in fact, charmless, but it was lacking in a certain Christmas card quality. A few of the buildings appeared to be in a constant state of construction. The newer buildings had been built as inexpensively as possible and were designed for utility not whimsy. The boat dock was modern. A group of men in filthy coats and wool caps pulled down low over their ears was clustered around a metal barrel that contained a small fire, passing around a small bottle. Someone had cleaned some fish in the parking lot and left the remnants where they lay. The windows on the ground floor of some of the buildings had rusted cages over them, designed to keep bears from breaking in. Currier and Ives, it was not.
“Wait till you see the lodge, Mom, it’s gorgeous.”
“It is, “Cass agreed.
Jacko leaned close and whispered, “When you have a minute, I want to discuss the menu.”
Cass was taken aback. “Oh, sure. It’s nice to meet you.”
Chelsea gestured towards another older couple making their way down the gangplank. “These are Jacko’s parents, Doctors Kim and Lindsay Andrews.”
Oh dear, having no idea which was Mrs./Dr. and which was Mr./Dr. Cass just cheerfully shook their hands. Killian and Jacko loaded the jeeps. Cass ended up sitting beside the groom. “How was your trip?” she asked, aware of Ben’s presence in the front seat, filming.
Jacko seemed to ignore the question. “Fine, fine. Now—the menu.”
Cass paused. The menu had been settled on weeks previously. The food had been ordered, and in Slick Trench it's not like she had a long list of possible vendors. “What about the menu?” she asked, trying to not sound put out.
“Do you think we can make it better?”
Her initial reaction was, “F to the uck no. No, we cannot.” She stifled herself, though. Instead saying, “Well, we’d talked about crab salad, beef tenderloin…” Her voice trailed off. There was more to the menu, of course, but after Alaskan crab, and beef tenderloin, any other dishes were clearly supporting players. “Better, how?” she asked.
“I don't know, less predictable somehow.”
She suddenly hated Ben and his goddamned camera. “Well, we can talk about it,” she muttered. Although she knew that no, they really couldn't.
“I was thinking maybe a night in Tuscany theme,” he continued, showing her his phone. He had bookmarked a whole series of recipes. “This one isn't Tuscan, but I think Chels would love it.” He scrolled to a recipe for lime grouper.
“Well, that’s a warm water fish and we are in Alaska.”
“Oh. All right, Italian then—well, we can decide later. Now, about the flowers, can we ditch the roses and go with Dutch tulips?”
“We are in Alaska,” she gestured out the window where the snow-covered trees were hard to ignore. “And it’s December.” And all of this has been planned and ordered for weeks, she thought but could not say. She had a hunch that saying, “There is one florist who can get me flowers this time of the year and we are not going to give her a nervous breakdown, would not look good on the TV show.
Jacko continued,
“I just don't want anything that’s overdone. It needs to be totally unique. This has to be the most perfect wedding ever. If we need to get someone else in here to do that, I will pay for it, no problem.”
She had been dead wrong about who was easy going and who was not.
Cass leaned her forehead on the window and tried not to feel defeated. One: She had a camera crew following her and a groom who wanted a Tuscan wedding featuring grouper in Slick Trench, Alaska, in December. Two: The mother of the bride might get herself killed by villagers armed with tridents. Three: Killian could say “not a ton” but she was fairly certain she would resemble a beached whale on film. Four: The groom had suggested they find someone else to plan a wedding that was being taped at the Nelson family lodge for the TV show hosted by Cass Nelson. Five: She was back to hating the way she looked on camera. Since she thought that could go on for many many numbers, she decided to stop tallying it.
Candlelit Cottages
If the drive had been demoralizing, the reaction of the guests to the lodge was not. Even Amelia Barrett, who Cass had preemptively decided she hated was impressed. Baggage was taken to each cottage. Hazel and Lloyd (well, probably mostly Hazel, thought Cass) had lit fires in the wood stoves of the cottages. After confirming with the guests that they would serve cocktails in an hour, the Nelsons left them to their own devices. It was a relief to see the green light on the camera switch off. Cass gave Ben a quick hug. He gave her a studied look. “You look good—really good.”
“Yeah, well I found a local who is great at makeup. So what's up with that guy?” She gestured towards the cottage where Jacko and Chelsea were staying.
Ben shook his head. “Hell, if I know. He seemed totally normal on the trip up.” Ben turned towards Killian. “He’s the richest pro skateboarder in the world.”
Killian thought a minute. “So he’s the Jacko Edwards?”
“Oh whatever. You have never heard of him before this very minute,” she snapped.
Ben spoke right over her. “He suggested that maybe they needed to get someone else in here to plan the perfect wedding.”
Killian staggered back with a hand clutched to his chest. “He said that to YOU? And he’s still alive?”
“Suddenly he wants to change everything,” Cass explained.
“He’ll calm down,” her husband assured her.
She hoped so. Ben went to get some footage of the guests settling down in their cottages. Cass felt the stress within overflow, like a yeast dough that is in a too small bowl. Whoosh, it would over expand and leave a mess in its wake. She glanced around. They were alone. “Hey,” she whispered, “Will you help me with something?”
He leaned in and returned her not at all solemn whisper, “You know I will. What’s up, buttercup?”
She took his hand and led him upstairs. A gentle shove made him sit on th
e bed. She reached into the dreaded drawer and after careful perusal, chose the hairbrush. “We don't have a lot of time and I am about to explode.”
He pulled her between his knees and cuddled her. “My god, you are the perfect woman for me.” A gentle laugh escaped her lips as he positioned her over his lap and pulled her skirt up. He wasted no time. She gave herself over. “I love you. I love you so much. You are my good, good girl. But, we both know that you just can’t behave without a red hot bottom.” She had not misbehaved, but his stern voice saying that carried her over the edge. The sobs poured out of her and she felt the stress going with them. Killian always knew exactly when to stop. He stroked her back while she finished her crying and then he gathered her into his strong arms. It was amazing how clear she felt after a hard spanking by the man she loved. She wiped her face on his tee shirt. He was less stern, but still in charge. “Go wash your face. We need to get downstairs.”
Like she always did, she paused to admire his handiwork in the mirror. His red handprints covered her like fireworks in a July 4th sky. She gently eased her panties back up and happily, if gingerly, headed downstairs.
The Mother-in-Law Matriculation
The bar was fully stocked, but Cass also put out a pot of hot chocolate, crushed peppermints, marshmallows and whipped cream. Just to be safe, she also put out creme de menthe’ and ú. She poured a hefty jot of Kahlúa into a cup and added a splash of hot chocolate. She downed it in two sips. She was wiping her mouth on the back of her hand when Amelia and the bride's younger sister ascended the porch steps. Cass was frantically trying to remember the younger girl's name—she was maid of honor, after all. Luckily, Amelia’s voice carried. “Isabelle, I know you love playing your cello, but Jack hired a string trio from Boston.” They entered the family room, mother looking determined, daughter looking dejected.
“You play the cello?” Cass asked.
Isabelle, who looked remarkably like her older sister, which is to say, perfectly beautiful in a WASPY way, nodded. “Maybe you could play at brunch, one morning,” Cass suggested.
Amelia seemed pleased with that suggestion, and Isabelle seemed somewhat consoled.
Cass poured drinks. Amelia was clearly used to casually getting nothing but the best. “I’ll take a Macallen, with one ice cube, please.”
Cass poured the remarkably expensive scotch into a glass and handed it over. “Drink?” she asked Isabelle. She was guessing Isabelle was at least twenty-one.
The maid of honor gave a grateful sigh. “Vodka—I don't care what brand, icy cold and with a lime twist.”
Well, that was decisive, Cass thought. Whilst shaking the vodka and ice, she made conversation. “Are you still in school?”
This was apparently a sore spot, Amelia snorted aggressively and her daughter winced. “I’m on winter break from Yale law school.”
“Wow.”
“But I’m not going back.”
“Yes, she is,” Amelia cut in.
Oh dear. Cass wished she had gone for vodka and not Kahlúa. Isabelle continued, “I’m going to get my masters in cello performance.”
Cass had no idea that was even something people did. “Oh, that’s great.” She caught Amelia’s glare. “Law School is good too, of course.”
Isabelle threw her drink back in one studied toss. “Not happening. Deal with it, Mother.”
The rest of the guests erupted through the front door. Cass was grateful for the reprieve. She left Hazel and Killian to tend bar and went to finish the roasted halibut nestled in cioppino. She combined olive oil and garlic and brushed it onto long planks of sourdough bread and gave them a quick go around on her grill. For the first night she had pulled out all the stops and planned the quintessential glamorous “Alaskan” menu. She brought steaming copper mugs of cioppino brimming with Alaskan seafood out on a tray and passed crusty wands of grilled sourdough bread. While Ben tried to make himself unobtrusive, the families of the bride and groom exclaimed over their first course. Cass could not miss the quiet word that Amelia had with her husband. “Talk to your younger daughter; she’s about to throw her life away.”
Ed seemed more resigned to Isabelle’s change of academic course, responding, “That’s a bit much, isn't it?”
Even whispering, the bite in Amelia’s voice was inescapable. “No. It is not. Do something.” Isabelle might talk a good game, Cass noticed, but she sought sanctuary sitting next to the bride.
Cass was able to spend a few minutes getting to know Lindsay and Kim (she still had no idea which one was which and was too embarrassed to ask them). The MOG (mother of the groom), name still unknown, did not seem terribly impressed by the elegant Amelia. “She certainly has beautiful daughters,” she said in a mildly disparaging tone, as if that was the one good thing that could be said.
“Yes,” replied the FOG (father of the groom). “Tall, clear skinned, very healthy.”
“Agreed,” replied his wife. “The father is prone to acrochordonosis.
Cass had no idea what to say to this bizarre assessment. She brightly said, “What do you do in Australia?”
“Bush doctors with the national health service,” they said in unison.
“Oh that's terrific,” Cass said. At that point Lindsay and Kim appeared to nod towards Cass and yet gesture towards each other and one of them said, “obstetrics” and the other said “emergency injury.” So now Cass did not know who was who or who was which kind of physician. Great. Cass excused herself to get some more wine.
Hazel was in the kitchen. “Interesting group,” she said.
“Well, the bride is some sort of fancy pants banker, the groom is the richest skateboarder in the world. Her mother is an economist and her father was an international banker. His parents are both bush doctors.” Her mother-in-law was suitably impressed. Cass was impressed, but somehow she felt mildly put out too. “Is there anyone in the world who’s not so impressive?”
Hazel wielded the corkscrew expertly. “Not that can afford a wedding here.”
“Very good point.” Cass carried the wine into the family room.
CassCooks Blog Post
Crustacean Consomme, Veritable Venison and Blueberry Buckle
Getting to know Chelsea and Jacko has been so much fun. One of the things that is making them such awesome guests is that they all enjoy good food. For their first night I planned a menu that was as Alaskan as I could make it. When you entertain, do the same. Go with what’s local, unique and made of the best possible ingredients. Mix things up. We served a spicy cioppino in copper mugs by the fire. Cioppino is Italian by way of California, but it primarily relies on awesome seafood—and that we got. Sourdough bread, brushed with olive oil and grilled was served alongside. Our main course was served at the dining room table. Roasted venison in a cognac cream sauce with wild mushrooms, spaetzle, and braised red cabbage is much easier to eat at a table. Venison is delicious. It’s also somewhat controversial. You do not want to serve it to even a slightly hesitant carnivore. People have no problem disassociating “beef” from “cows.” Bambi is a dicier proposition. You want your guests to enjoy what you serve them and you don't want your dinner table to take on an accusatory tone. Play it safe. If you're not certain, ask your guests before spending the money on game. Farmed venison is available and can be very very good. For dessert I went with individual blueberry cobblers. A “buckle” is an old fashioned name for a cobbler—although strictly speaking, a “buckle” is made with breadcrumbs in the streusel. Ours were served with homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Just as well that we have an ice skating party tomorrow! Otherwise we might need bigger wedding clothes!
Love is delicious, Cass
Cass ushered her guests into the dining room to eat their main course. The venison was tender and flavorful. The Australian members of the party had never eaten venison before, but did not seem offended by it. Jacko’s best man, who had apparently been named “Banjo” at birth, said it was the most delicious meal he had ever eaten. Cass wasn't sure
if it was true, or if he was playing to the cameras but either way, she was pleased.
Ed, the bride’s diplomat of a father, clearly knew how to maneuver a conversation. “Now, tell us how you ended up here,” he gently asked.
Cass would never tire of that story. “I wrote a blog post about these delicious, but full of seeds, blue berries I bought at the farmers’ market in Chicago.”
Killian interjected, “They weren't blueberries, they were huckleberries.”
Isabelle looked confused. “Huckleberries? Isn't that a cartoon dog?”
“Thank You!” responded Cass. “That's what I thought too. Anyway I came here to see the huckleberries.”
Killian took command of the anecdote again. “And nearly got us both killed by a mother bear and her cubs. After that I pretty much had to marry her…” Everyone laughed. The part they always left out of that particular story was that it had resulted in him administering three furious swats to her bottom as they retreated from their near death experience. She wondered how people would react to that part of the story. The next day he had grown tired of her constantly criticizing her own body and had spanked her to tears with a wooden spoon. Their shared spanking proclivities had turned into a deep, passionate love. And “THAT” she thought,” was how I got here.” She cleared plates and asked the guests if they would rather have dessert then, or in a little while.
They decided to eat dessert later and retired back to the fireplace. Cass was refilling wine and offering coffee when she noticed that the bride had left the room. She wasn't sure how to discreetly bring it up with the cameras running, so she said nothing. Cass had just returned the now empty wine bottle to the sideboard when Chelsea had returned bearing a cello. She was fairly certain that Amelia swore under her breath. Chelsea ignored her. “Here, play some Christmas music, we are all sick of hearing each other talk anyway.” Isabelle flashed her sister a look of utter love and appreciation. Banjo had jumped up and retrieved a dining room chair for Isabelle. She sat down and began to play. Glorious music swelled around them. It was impossible to imagine that Isabelle could possibly be as good a law student as she was a musician. When she paused, everyone was quick to pour on the praise. With the fire burning and glasses full of good wine, the music gilded the lily. Cass thought it would take a bit more wine to dull the flashing of the giant, colorful Christmas tree lights. Standing in the family room surrounded by strangers and looking at the Nelson family tree, Cass suddenly felt a pang. She was a Nelson. And glad to be one. But she had always assumed that when she got married, they would have a tree that represented both of them. Moving to his family home had meant that she had sort of inherited “his” tree. She didn't have time to be too sad though, she had guests who needed dessert.
Red Velvet: A BBW Romance (The Cass Chronicles Book 5) Page 3
