Blind Dates and Other Disasters: The Wedding Wish

He reached over the table with a few loose sheets of pink writing paper covered with loopy handwriting. Lydia’s hand slid across the table and snapped them up.

‘I have a week and a half to organise a party for … how many people?’ Holly asked.

Lydia, who was poring over the pink pages, said, ‘Three hundred.’

‘Three hundred people?’

‘Of course it’s people, though it doesn’t specifically say people in the notes—’

‘Lydia!’

‘We can do it easily, Holly,’ Lydia said. ‘Remember the Newman do? We did that in just over a week and it was fab.’

Holly glared at Lydia, who just shrugged. ‘What did I say? It’s true.’

Holly sensed Jacob watching them, his head swaying back and forth as though watching a tennis match.

‘Look, if you think you need help or if I should get someone else to do it—’ he said.

Holly placed her hands steadily on the table in front of her. ‘No, we will be fine.’

The waiter arrived and asked if they were ready to order lunch. Jacob raised his eyebrows at Holly and his look said it all. He had laid his cards on the table; he had changed the rules and made no promises he would not do so again. So much for professional boundaries.

But now it was her move. Order the meal or don’t order the meal. Take the deal or don’t take the deal. It was decision time and it was up to her.

So Holly ordered.

Soup of the day with a side salad. It would be served quickly and could be eaten quickly. Besides, the way her stomach was reacting she probably would not keep anything heavier down.

Jacob ordered appetisers and eye fillet steak. Well done. ‘Cook it till it’s unrecognisable,’ he said, ‘then flip it and cook it some more.’

‘You should eat it rare. It’s much better for you.’ Holly nodded frantically at the waiter, willing him to change the order. Jacob shot her that peculiar enigmatic smile again and she shut up.

Lydia took a long, luxurious sip of her drink, the liquid gurgling loudly as it reached the bottom of the glass, then ordered a slice of apple pie with ice cream. ‘The sugar stimulates me,’ she explained.

Jacob laughed aloud and the young male waiter had to stifle a cough as he left.

‘So how have you been, Lydia?’ Jacob asked.

‘Fabulous, Jacob. And you?’

‘Fabulous.’ His urbane voice gave the casual word a whole different feel. Long, drawn out, smooth. Holly took a large gulp of her drink.

‘If you two are finished,’ Holly said, ‘let’s talk about the party.’ She stopped as Jacob held up his hands, his face contorted with mock apprehension.

‘You promised me I wouldn’t have to choose between pewter and bronze.’

‘But—’

‘No buts. Follow the notes if you must, but as I said on the phone you guys have carte blanche.’

It sounded perfect in theory, but Holly knew there was no way of pleasing a client without substantial input. One person’s pewter was another person’s bronze.

Obviously sensing the same looming disaster, Lydia whipped out the contract and gave it to Jacob. ‘If you could just look this over, fill in your details and the party date, sign away and we have a deal.’

Jacob did as he was told, then Holly signed alongside his name. Lydia clapped her hands together excitedly as she took the signed contract and placed it carefully in her pink attaché case.

‘Carte blanche,’ Lydia cooed. ‘My two favourite words in the whole English language.’

Jacob laughed aloud again. And Holly felt her skin resonating in response to the infectious sound.

‘So, Jacob,’ Lydia said, ‘since we can’t talk shop, tell me why you had to stop Holly from throwing her drink over you? ‘

His eyes crinkled. ‘Well, I just knew that she was expecting my sister and didn’t want her to freak out.’

‘Holly, freak out?’ Lydia scoffed. ‘She’s the coolest cucumber you could ever hope to meet.’

‘Do tell.’

‘Sure. I mean, take yesterday lunchtime; these expatriate English people who were having a British-Australian dinner. We’d spent three full days with the client finalising the seating arrangements. We had even printed up these lovely table number cards. Weren’t they lovely, Holly?’

‘They were lovely, Lydia,’ Holly agreed, flicking a quick apologetic smile to Jacob, who winked briefly before turning his rapt attention back to Lydia. Holly’s skin tingled as though that wink had crossed the table and brushed along her cheek. She crept a stealthy hand from her lap to her face and rubbed at the wayward spot.

‘Anyway,’ Lydia continued, ‘at the last minute the client realised that Joe was at table number three and Eunice was at table number four. They were both in the front row, both within spitting distance of the speaker, but Joe was sitting at a higher table number than Eunice. And this was cataclysmic. The client was ready to cancel the whole thing. In stepped Miss Cool Bananas here and said, Let’s just rename the tables; not numbers, not letters, but names of small English towns. The client hyperventilated her agreement. There went our Holly into her “magic” briefcase and found enough fancy paper and a black magic marker to rename every table. And within minutes of everyone’s arrival the whole room was in tears as they blabbed about the small English towns they all knew and loved and missed. Even Joe and Eunice were hugging each other and bawling their eyes out.’

Lydia took a deep breath and slumped back in her chair. ‘Jacob, can you look around the corner and see if my apple pie is coming? I’m starved!’

It took a moment for Jacob to latch onto Lydia’s sudden change of topic. He peeked. ‘Not just yet.’

‘Good. Holly, could you shove over for a sec? I have to take a pee before my pie comes.’

Holly obligingly moved out of her seat so Lydia could shuffle past. ‘Thanks, gorgeous.’ She flounced past Holly and skipped towards the ladies’ room.

Holly slid back down into her seat, slowly and deliberately, already marking the seconds until Lydia’s return.

‘Isn’t she exhausting?’ Jacob said.

Talk about Lydia. Excellent. Safe ground.

‘She’s enthusiastic and imaginative and the clients love her. I’ll probably end up working for her one day.’

After a moment’s pause, during which time his mind seemed to be ticking over, Jacob asked, ‘She called you “gorgeous”. Ben and Beth both refer to you in that way as well. Do you just get that particular compliment a lot?’

‘Hardly.’

Hardly a professional topic of conversation. Explain then change the subject.

‘My dad called me that since I was little. And then one day when I first met Ben he called out “Hey, gorgeous” to Beth and I answered without even thinking. And he and Beth have called me that ever since. The guys at work heard Ben call me that at the Christmas party a couple of years ago and never let it go. I barely notice it any more.’