“These are impressive, Katherine. And I know a bit about flowers. My mother entertained a lot, and I organized the arrangements for many of her functions. Would you consider doing the flowers for some of our events?”
Katherine’s lips part in a rare smile. “Yes! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Stella has already given me her blessing. I’m considering partnering with the owner of a small flower shop on the outskirts of town. Claire is talented. She purchases her stems from a wholesale florist. My goal is to become her primary supplier.” She sweeps her hand at the flower beds. “What you see here is just the beginning. I’ve signed the lease on a field close to here.”
“That’s exciting, Katherine. I’m happy to support you in any way. The woman at Mountain Flowers on Main Street is working up a price for the homecoming party, but I wasn’t that impressed with her work. If you’d be willing to do the flowers, I’d rather give you the business.”
“I would love that. Just tell me what you need. The inn has a spectacular collection of containers.”
As they walk back to the main building together, they talk not only about the flowers for the party but also about decking the inn with trees, wreaths, and poinsettias for the upcoming holidays. When they part on the terrace, Presley feels like she’s made a new friend.
Entering through the back door, she’s on her way to her office to talk to Karen about renting a hayride for the party, when Naomi pulls her aside.
“I had a call from one of your brides yesterday afternoon. She claims you quoted her the wrong discount rate on blocks of rooms.”
Presley is thrown off guard at first, alarmed she could have made such an error when she’s well aware of the block room rate. But then, she realizes Naomi’s trying to cause trouble. She’s notorious for it. She fails to deliver important phone messages and neglects to forward inquiry emails received through the general inbox to the appropriate department. And she blows complaints from guests out of proportion, making a big deal out of nothing when a simple apology to the guest would suffice.
“I don’t know how that’s possible, Naomi. Every bride receives the same packet of information with the 10 percent discount rate clearly stated.”
Naomi raises her hands. “Don’t shoot me. I’m just the messenger, repeating what your bride told me. She says you offered her a 30 percent discount.”
Presley’s jaw goes slack. “That’s absurd. Who’s the bride? I will reach out to her.”
“That’s not necessary,” Naomi says. “I calmed her down. I told her you were new here and unfamiliar with our policies.”
Presley glances around the reception area, making certain they’re alone, before leaning across the check-in counter. “Why would you tell a bride her event planner is new to the job? We want our guests to have confidence in us. Now, tell me the name of the bride.”
“Jody Butler, if you must know. But you’ll only make matters worse if you call her.”
“I know how to handle it, Naomi. And, in the future, I would appreciate it if you’d direct any calls relating to weddings directly to me.” Presley whirls around and storms off.
She knows Naomi is lying. Out of all her brides, Jody Butler is the least worried about costs. But Presley calls her anyway.
“I just wanted to make certain you received the wine list I emailed you yesterday,” Presley says when Jody answers the phone in her bubbly Southern girl voice.
“I got it!” With a giggle, Jody says, “My daddy is a wine snob. He wants to be the one to choose which wines we serve. He hasn’t had a chance to look at the list, though.”
“No rush,” Presley says. “If he has questions, he can contact our sommelier. I included Lucy’s contact information in the email. She’s quite knowledgeable. Your dad, being a wine enthusiast, might enjoy talking to her.”
“Cool! I’ll be sure to tell him that.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Jody pauses a fraction of a second. “Nope. FYI, I booked my block of rooms earlier today. Y’all are so nice to offer a 10 percent discount. A lot of hotels don’t do that.”
Presley grips her phone. So, Naomi was lying. “We appreciate your business, and we are excited about your wedding next summer.” They talk for a few minutes about food and bands before hanging up.
Presley contemplates her options. While she’s tempted to tell Stella about the situation, she decides to talk it over with Everett first. But, with the inn booked to capacity for the college’s alumni weekend, she doesn’t get a chance to do that until Sunday night.
They are camped out on Big Blue with a leftover pizza from Jameson’s between them. Since her return from Nashville, Presley has spent what little free time she has in the evenings with Everett. They watch movies and eat tubs of popcorn. Sometimes they sit in the dark, with the lights from Main Street streaming through the windows, and talk for hours. She shares much about her life while he shares little about his. Presley was raised by an alcoholic. She knows when someone’s hiding something. And Everett is totally hiding something. But, despite having met only a little over two weeks ago, she feels as though she’s known him all her life. Whatever he’s keeping from her, she believes he’ll tell her when he’s ready.
“I’m telling you, Ev. I wanted to strangle Naomi.”
Everett rolls his eyes. “Everyone has issues with Naomi. Too bad we can’t get rid of her.”
“Why would Stella keep someone like that around?”
Everett takes a bite of
