Lib Novel Page 12
“We’re going to give her plenty she doesn’t want. And I’m going to find those rings, Cleo. I don’t know how, yet, but I’m going to find them. And meanwhile, we’re going to live and work and plan.”
She watched Yoda chase a squirrel.
“You’re going to get that slinky cat.”
“I am,” Cleo agreed. “I’m going to start that search real soon.”
“And tonight we’re going to serve a hell of a good meal, and we’re going to do it in that big-ass dining room.”
“That’s what I’m talking about! When that pie comes out, we’re going to get ourselves and that table looking extra.”
“You always look extra. I should hate that about you.”
“But you love me.”
“I really do. Let’s go check on your pie. And then I’m making beer bread.”
Cleo smiled. “You figure Molly’s cleaned up our cooking mess by now?”
Sonya didn’t bother to look ashamed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Seems to me everybody’s getting what they want.”
They deserved a day like this, Sonya thought. A day to do good work, and to set that work aside early. A day to fiddle and fuss and spend time together.
With the scents of baking and cooking filling the kitchen—now spotless—they sat at the counter to work on the details of what they called An Event, scheduled, after some debate, for the second Saturday in June.
“The open house deal keeps it friendly, casual,” Sonya decided. “But I vote for formal invitations.”
“Make that unanimous. Adds elegance. An illustration of the manor.”
“You read my mind. I’ll go get a sketch pad.”
By the time the pie and bread sat cooling on a rack, and they’d risked one quick peek inside the pot, they had their template of the manor in spring, with the weeping tree blooming, flowers spreading lush.
Sonya MacTavish and Cleopatra Fabares
Invite you to The Manor for an evening of
Food, drink, and fellowship.
Saturday, June the eighth, at four p.m.
“I like it,” Cleo decided. “It’s simple and welcoming.”
“Not too simple?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. We need to include an RSVP.” Sonya began to fiddle with the wording there. “A please respond by, say, May twentieth, so we have an idea of the count. Trey’s mom will help us with names and addresses.”
“We can hit Bree up for help with a menu. Head chef of the Lobster Cage, that’s a solid connection.”
“And she likes us, so yeah. We tap her for help on lining up servers, a couple bartenders. We order food from restaurants in the village.”
“We’re going to have to drag tables and chairs out of storage,” Cleo pointed out. “Or rent them.”
“Add glassware, dishes, linens. You know, I’ve designed invites for countless events, done websites for caterers, restaurants, bars. But neither one of us have ever planned and executed something like this.”