Page 24 of Babies at Coconuts

Chapter 18

After reading Alex’s text, Cheri paced in her striking, nearly all-white, Manhattan penthouse apartment. Staring at the Empire State Building, she wondered if she had forgotten anything for her mega event.

She had held pre-event meetings with her sous chef, head server, and manager multiple times. Her staff at Fifth Avenue Catering had been given a pep talk with promises of bonuses if the famous musician’s party went off without a hitch. Annie Leibovitz, famed photographer, had been retained, as well as Manhattan’s best florist. Tables were already decorated to perfection. A sextet from the New York Symphony would entertain guests during the pre-party, and the entertainer’s musician friends had several surprises in store, including a group birthday song that would be videotaped live.

They were ready. This event would put Fifth Avenue Catering on the celebrity circuit, so why was Cheri unhappy. Naturally, I land the catering gig of the year for Elton John’s birthday and miss the son’s wedding of one of the few, true friends I have.

Her trilling phone jarred her into the present. She glanced at the screen. “Hi, Mom.”

“Darling. It feels like ages since we’ve talked,” her wealthy, jet-setting mother, Victoria Van Buren, said.

Glad her mother didn’t have her on Skype, Cheri rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s been all of a week.”

“Do you know how long that is in dog years?”

Losing her patience, Cheri asked, “What’s up, Mom? I’m crazy busy.”

Victoria paused. “Nothing’s up. Can’t I just call my daughter?”

“Of course. Sorry.” Cheri stepped into the kitchen and reached for the glass handle to the mini-fridge. She grabbed a chilled Diet Coke and popped the tab.

“What’s that noise?”

“Just a soda.”

“Oh.”

Cheri sipped her drink. “How’s Europe? Sick of traveling?”

Her mother laughed for far too long. “Never. I, we, love to travel.”

“How’s Daddy?” Cheri paused. “By the way, I can tell you’re smoking again. I hear you exhaling.”

“One little cigarette never hurt anyone. And . . . Daddy’s fine. He’s working out like crazy.”

“Really? That’s new.” Cheri rummaged in her fridge for some pepper jack cheese and grapes. “Does he have a personal trainer?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. He goes to the gym almost daily. He’s getting really buff.”

“That’s good, I suppose. Nice to stay fit.” Cheri bit into a grape. “Do you go with him?”

Victoria cackled. “And interrupt my shopping? Not in a million years.”

Cheri wondered where her mother put all of the stuff she bought on her thrice-weekly shopping excursions. “Mom, I have a mega event tomorrow. I can’t talk long.”

“Anyone I know?”

“It’s someone everyone knows.” Cheri waited for the typical response.

“And?”

Chuckling, Cheri said, “I can’t say. I knew you’d ask but I’m under contract.”

“Dammit. I hate it when you do that. I think you get that secrecy gene from your dad.”

“If I could tell you, I would. I really don’t want to get sued. This guy has more money than us. A lot more.”

Her mother gasped. “Indeed. So . . . it’s a male celebrity.”

“See how you are? I’ll tell you afterward. I promise.” Cheri drained her soda. “I need to run. Love you.”

Her mother hung up before saying good-bye which wasn’t unusual. Cheri mentally checked her to-do list one last time before getting ready for bed. I’ve got to remember to text Suzy tomorrow and congratulate her.

She studied her massive closet that would be the envy of any upscale boutique but still couldn’t decide what to wear to Sir Elton John’s party. Unlocking her jewelry armoire, she sifted through diamonds, pearls, emeralds, and rubies. A tiny, signature blue Tiffany box in the back corner was like a punch in the gut, but she ignored it, pushing the unwanted memory far into the recesses of her mind.

Locking the jewelry armoire, Cheri focused on her clothes and decided on a silky black jumpsuit, Chanel belt, gold, strappy heels, and a gold clutch. After charging her phone, she crawled underneath her gray, plush comforter. Now maybe I can sleep

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