Suddenly the sleepless nights and hard work melted away. All Erin could see was a lovely English rose who deserved all of the happiness in the world.
Fiona Hanson was going to make a beautiful bride.
Erin walked casually across the lawn to greet Fiona, but just as she was about to speak a short stout woman marched around the corner of the building and started shouting and gesticulating to Fiona with short stabbing moves.
There was no mistaking this voice. Erin had never met Emma Wilson in person, but she certainly recognized the tone and the slight Scottish accent. But why on earth was Emma arguing with Fiona? She was her maid of honour for goodness sake! Emma should be supporting Fiona, not fighting with her.
What was going on?
“Fiona!” Erin smiled and strode purposefully up to Fiona with her hand stretched out. “How lovely to see you! What a fabulous location.”
Fiona turned to face Erin and to her horror, Erin could see tears in the woman’s eyes. “Erin,” she blinked as they shook hands. “Is that you? It’s been so long.”
“The one and only,” Erin grinned, determined to stay positive. “I’m so sorry that I got held up in traffic. But I’m here now with your very special delivery. Just point me in the direction of the kitchens and I can get your wedding cakes into the hotel refrigerator.”
“I don’t believe it!” Emma Wilson gasped and grabbed Erin’s arm so firmly that she was probably going to leave a bruise. “You are not telling me that those cakes are still in your van in this heat! Are you quite mad? First, you are late, then you insist on ruining the delivery. Well, this is totally unacceptable.”
Then Emma flung both hands in the air and rolled her eyes. “I have walked into a total madhouse. I was told that you were a professional baker, not an amateur.” She turned up her nose and glanced over her shoulder at Fiona. “I knew that we should have gone to that London bakery which all of the celebrity wedding planners use. Local bakers are so unreliable.”
Erin could scarcely believe her ears! It took all of her resolve to fight back the urge to tell Emma Wilson precisely what she thought of her opinion of local bakers.
“Then I’d better head straight to the kitchen,” she said to Fiona in a direct polite voice. “No time to waste.”
“Not until I have personally inspected those cakes,” Emma said, even though Erin had been speaking to Fiona. “Who knows what you have come up with? There’s still time to order replacements.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Erin coughed. “But only in the air-conditioned hotel kitchen. Don’t you agree? Excellent.” She lifted her chin. “Would you like to show me the way, Emma? I’m sure Fiona has lots of things to catch up with.”
Emma snarled something towards Erin as she marched past her towards the car park where Erin had parked her van. In the few seconds before she followed her, Erin took a deep calming breath and looked across to Fiona, who simply shook her head, then silently mouthed the words “thank you” before strolling towards the hotel entrance.
Erin gritted her teeth and rolled back her shoulders.
Zoe Hanson. You owe me. Big time.
Chapter Two
Erin leaned back against the bench on the patio behind her deli and bit into another slice of toasted raisin and cinnamon bread.
The dawn had just come up on the village green and the sun was already warming the oak and beech trees and reflecting back from the carefully tended grass. There were very few people around at six on a Saturday morning, but she had already waved to several of her regular customers who had decided to walk their dogs before it got too hot.
It promised to be another warm and sunny Saturday morning in Kingsmede. Fiona and Ethan were going to have a magical wedding day.
Erin scrolled through the messages on her phone as she ate her breakfast. Zoe had texted her around eleven to say that she was back home after a brilliant dinner party with Fiona and her friends. Best of all, the ladies had all adored her dessert cakes and pastries and promised to pop into the deli to buy more before they headed home after the wedding weekend.
Thank you, Zoe! Erin raised her beaker of steaming hot tea in silent salute. The cakes were samples of the wedding cake recipes, so, fingers crossed, the wedding guests would love the cake. That almost made up for yesterday’s fiasco at the hotel. What a day!
But it had been worth it. The wedding cake was now safe and sound inside a huge catering refrigerator in the special events storeroom at the hotel.
The French dessert chef had insisted on peeking inside the cake boxes, then simply crossed his arms and shrugged at her, before telling her they were okay. Which to Erin was a result, since according to Emma Wilson, they were borderline acceptable and “would have to do.” Thanks, Emma! You are so generous. Not.
Taking another drink of tea, Erin checked her watch. She had been awake for two hours, unable to sleep in the heat of her bedroom, but that was okay. It had given her more time to get everything prepared and baked for the deli. The last thing she wanted was to run out of deli platters on a busy Saturday at the peak of the tourist season.
The refrigerator
