“Good afternoon, ladies,” Claire said, setting her first menu items on the table. “Today, I have for you a mozzarella and grape tomato skewer with basil drizzled with a balsamic reduction, as well as a salmon and cream cheese bite.”
While Dolly set about pouring glasses of white wine, Claire went back into the kitchen to fetch serving plates with spicy tuna wrapped in pickled cucumber, baked brie with walnuts and pistachios, and yellow tomato gazpacho shooters with basil crab salad crostini.
One of the first chefs Claire had worked for had been a stickler for presentation and had hammered into his employees that food needed to be visually pleasing as well as a festival of flavors. That was why she’d made certain that each selection she presented to Bettina was not only a treat for the palate, but interesting to the eye as well.
By the time she finished setting the last of her eight plates on the table, the women were exclaiming over the food. A warm sense of accomplishment flooded Claire. Cooking was her passion and it thrilled her when people enjoyed what she lovingly created.
“In addition to these,” she said, making eye contact with Sawyer, who gave her an encouraging smile, “I thought we should have boiled shrimp and a cheese platter. And I have a friend who is an excellent pastry cook. For dessert, I could order up a selection.”
“This is all quite nice,” Bettina said, proving far less difficult to please than Claire had anticipated. “I approve of everything.”
“Wonderful.”
“I agree,” Augusta spoke up. “This is all amazing.”
Buoyed by all the positive feedback, Claire grinned. “I’m glad you like it.”
Augusta indicated the two woman who’d accompanied her. “Let me introduce you to these ladies. This is Genevieve Brand and Portia Hillcrest. I brought them along today because they are in charge of organizing the charity polo match to support the local YMCA next Saturday, and they were hoping you could help them out of a jam.”
Genevieve Brand was nodding as Augusta spoke. A thin woman with sleek blond hair and a smooth round face, Genevieve wore a beautiful pale pink suit and a triple-strand pearl necklace that looked like it cost more than Claire had paid for her Saab.
“Our caterer had a family emergency and canceled last minute,” Genevieve said. “We are in a terrible predicament with the event coming up so soon and no food. Would you be able to help us out?”
Claire’s first impulse was to say no. When Augusta had approached her after Linc’s dinner party, asking if she would be interested in catering an event in the future, Claire hadn’t dreamed anything would come up so soon. She didn’t have the facilities or the staff to handle a large party.
“I’d have to talk to Linc.” When Genevieve and Portia exchanged a confused look, Claire explained, “I’m his housekeeper.”
“I’m sure he’ll say yes.” Augusta beamed as if everything was settled. “It’s one of his favorite events, after all.”
“Does he play polo?” The question slipped out of Claire’s mouth before she could stop it.
Sawyer laughed. “No, but he’s big on any charity that helps out kids, and he loves rooting for Austin.”
“By rooting for,” Bettina murmured wryly, “Sawyer means betting on.”
“There’s always a little friendly wagering that goes on during the match,” Portia explained. “Those proceeds also go to the charity.”
“Sounds like a worthwhile event,” Claire said, a little overwhelmed by the weight of these women’s expectations. “Still, I should run it by Linc.”
“Of course.”
“Run what by Linc?” came the question from the doorway.
Claire’s eyes snapped to her employer and her heart skipped a beat. Nor was she the only one affected. A collective sigh went up from the room’s occupants as each took in the charming picture of the gorgeous blond man with an armful of adorable toddler. It was hard for Claire to keep her expression neutral as she was suddenly besieged by the memories of his touch.
“Genevieve and Portia need Claire’s help with the charity polo match next Saturday,” Augusta said to him. “They lost their caterer at the last minute.”
“What an adorable little girl,” Portia exclaimed, looking perplexed.
“This is Honey,” Linc said, his smiling blue eyes landing on Claire.
“She’s Claire’s daughter,” Bettina clarified, her tone flat.
“How was the children’s museum?” Claire asked. “Did she behave herself?”
“She was a perfect angel.”
“I don’t believe you,” she replied, all too aware that their exchange was being closely observed.
“You know she always behaves for me,” Linc said, shifting his attention to Honey. “Don’t you?”
“Yes.” The little girl patted his cheek with her palm and giggled.
“They had a fire truck exhibit. She was a huge fan.”
“Whoooo, whooo.” Honey sounded more like an alarm than a train.
“It was nice of you to take your housekeeper’s daughter to the children’s museum,” Genevieve murmured, mild judgment in her tone.
When Claire stiffened at the remark, Linc shot the woman an uncompromising look.
“She’s catering my mother’s party as a favor. The least I could do was save her from having to hire a babysitter today.”
While everyone nodded, Claire stood frozen with humiliation. Once again, it was pretty obvious in the eyes of many people that a clearly defined line existed between the haves and those who work for them.
“Why don’t I take Honey now,” Claire said, sliding around the outer perimeter of the room in Linc’s direction. “You should sit down and visit with these ladies. I can bring you a plate if you’d like to taste the food.”
“No, thanks. Honey and I are going to hang out in the kitchen with you while you finish up.”
Curiosity was almost palpable in the dining room.
“Before you go, Linc,” Genevieve said. “Can you give Claire permission to work our fund-raiser? She won’t do it
