Page 97 of Sexy as Sin
“In the morning. How tired areyou?”
“Some. A little hard to sleep, though, until I get tired enough. Never mind. Get some sleep, baby. I’ll see you and Azra Friday morning. Don’t worry, and tell her not to worry, either. I’ve got a plan.”
When they rang off, Azra was quiet for a minute, and then she said, “So.”
“So,” Willow said. “I can’t have a... talk.” She had to blink back the tears. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I know that you’re worried, too, about your problem, your mum, your job, but I’m... I’m done.”
Azra came around the table and embraced her. “No worries, love. Even Queen Elizabeth hangs up the tiara sometimes and goes for a walk with the corgis. Switch off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She got her energy back. She always did. At three o’clock the next afternoon, Stephanie Oxford, Brisbane’s wedding planner of choice, whose blond hair was even more perfectly colored than Amanda’s and whose pedicure was pristine, was taking a delicate nibble of a lemon tart in Nourish’s dining corner. Jessica Spelman, Nick Dean’s fiancée, a dark brunette who looked more sporty than sophisticated, had laughed her way through the tasting like the whole thing was a joke and was now eating a green-and-yellow ice block with obvious enjoyment, while her mum, another brunette named Kate who wasn’t any more pretentious than her daughter, had eaten both ofhertarts, with no nibbling necessary. Willow could feel the excitement fizzing in her veins the same way it had this morning, surfing that last, biggest wave.
“With your day,” she told Jessica, “I’m going to throw out all my hard work and say that I wouldn’t do the Asian fusion.” Time to jump in and go for it. “It’s getting to be almost too popular. It’d be more fun to do something more unique, surely. I’d suggest seafood-slash-vegan instead. We’d have to take over Nightcap’s kitchens for the day, but as you’ve booked the whole place and they have a pretty good kitchen, that shouldn’t be a problem. Get the seafood fresh off the boat, and as much grilled as possible. Scallops and salmon, like we talked about. Prawns, too, and even Moreton Bay bugs, depending how high you want your spend to be, though we’ll call them ‘bay lobsters’ for the Yanks. They won’t eat them otherwise. Rock oyster bar. They’ll be so plump and juicy in October. Baby asparagus, sugar snap peas, yellow squash, and red capsicums on the grill. Spring wedding? That’ll be brilliant. Corn and bean salad to offset the sweetness of the seafood, Greek salad with lemon basil dressing, and the feta on the side for the vegans. Quinoa salad as well. That’s three things vegans can eat. Not too bad.”
“Not everybody will want seafood, surely,” Stephanie, the wedding planner, said. Kate and Jessica didn’t join in the objection. Willow would have bet money that they could both peel and eat a dozen grilled prawns in ten minutes or less, and that they’d love to.
“Meat pies,” Willow said. “Dinky-di Aussie again. Americans love meat pies. They think they’re exotic, and everybody loves to break their diet. Steak and mushroom, chicken and veggie. You’ve tasted my flaky pastry, and I do my own tomato sauce. It’ll be the best meat pie anybody’s ever had. The whole thing’s like you’re having a barbie on the beach, but better. You’re eco-lodging it, even though you’re not. Everybody’s got their shoes off, because it’s a party, and the boys are having as much fun as the girls. Fairy lights.”
“I love it,” Jessica said. “Awesome. I’ve already decided the flowers are going to be...” She looked at her mum.
“Informal,” Kate said. “With eucalyptus leaves.”
“Maybe I’ll wear sparkly thongs with the dress,” Jessica said. “That’d be funky and fun, especially as I’m not wearing any poufy meringue. If I’m going to kill myself in the gym for this, I’m wearing some kind of boho thing with tiny straps and not much back, so I can show off the effort. And I’m doing flower wreaths.”
“You know,” Willow said, the energy all but sparking off her now, “instead of a traditional wedding cake, you could do a tiered pavlova.” She grabbed her phone and swiped to a photo of cream-covered meringue studded with halved strawberries and kiwifruit slices. “Here. Get the meringue in the pav instead of the dress. Heaps more fun. I know a baker who can do that for you. Vegan cupcakes, for the holdouts. Chocolate, so they can pretend they’re sinning, and I’ll make a coconut ice, non-dairy. We find a really nice Pinot Gris and Pinot Noir—I have a sommelier mate who can help with that, and with choosing the beer as well—and you’re home and hosed.”
“We should talk about sourcing,” Stephanie murmured.
Willow considered slapping her. Pity you could so rarely do that in real life. Instead, she said, “So I won’t poison anybody, you mean, because I cooked that dinner where people fell ill,” and both Amanda and Stephanie stiffened. If she didn’t address it, though, Stephanie would be filling Jessica and Kate’s heads with it all the way back to Brissy. “Except that I didn’t poison anybody. The mushroom substitution was deliberate, and it’s being investigated. I’ll list every vendor for you.” She pulled two sheets of paper out of her book and slid them across the table. “Here are the ones we use now,includingBen Bankside. I’ll keep on sourcing mushrooms from him, because he’s the best, and he doesn’t make mistakes. I’d stake my livelihood on it. In fact, I just did. I’ve made a copy for each of you. You could look them up online. Organic fruit and veg, free-range, hormone-free meats, because not only are they better for the planet, they taste better, too, and seafood vendors I can count on to deliver caught-that-day fresh. And here are the results of our latest kitchen inspection, done the day after the poisoning.” Two more pieces of paper. “And my diplomas from the Cordon Bleu, with a list of the food safety curriculum. You can come watch me cook, or send anybody you like to do it. Test us any way you like, and compare our food to any other caterer’s. If you don’t think we’re better, choose them instead.”
Amanda said, “Willow,” and laughed, the sound brittle and artificial. “That’s a bit confrontational, surely. I stand behind the safety of my kitchen,” she told Stephanie. “I have twenty years in this business.”
“Seriously?” Jessica asked Willow. “Somebody was trying to sabotage you? Or the party?” She bit off another chunk of ice block. “Sounds like quite the mystery. That’s a rubbish thing to do. Do you think they did it to get at you, or was it about the people who were eating it?”
“The police are looking into the idea that it was a poisoning aimed at the event,” Willow said. They probably weren’t, but it had been reported to them. Sort of. Brett had talked to a cop. “If it was a real attempt at harm, it didn’t work, thank God. Nobody died, and only two people were ill for more than a few hours.”
“You’d just have to not eat it yourself,” Jessica said. “Or better yet—doeat a bit, so you’re falling ill as well. Cover your tracks.”
“Huh.” That one made Willow stop and consider. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.”
“I work for the fraud department of an insurance firm,” Jessica said. “You can’t surprise me anymore.” She laughed, all irrepressible sparkle and deep dimples. “Makes going to work interesting, hey. Always some new depth of depravity to explore.”
“I wish we’d had insurance for this,” Willow said. “Bloody awkward.” Jessica laughed, but Amanda closed her eyes and nearly moaned. Brett was right, though. Sales was about focusing in, about finding out what that one person wanted and figuring out how to give it to them. It wasn’t about you, and it wasn’t about the average person.
“I love all of it,” Jessica said, with a glance at her mum, “and I’d sign a contract today, but Nick told me when we spoke last night that he’d heard about somebody particular he wanted to use, so I have to see if I can talk him out of it.” She dimpled up some more. “I’m guessing I can, though.”
“Who is it, can I ask?” Willow tried to keep her heart from sinking.You have to keep trying, that’s all,Bailey had said, and it was true. She wasn’t giving up at the first fence. Shehadthis.
“He couldn’t remember the name,” Jessica said, and rolled her dark eyes. “Men, hey. She’s Rafe Blackstone’s cousin. The actor. Nick was at an event last month with Rafe, some sort of fundraiser for kids in LA, and he met him and his wife. Good thing I wasn’t there, because I’d have asked for his autograph and embarrassed Nick. Bloody fit, and I’ve seen all those werewolf movies at least twice, but don’t tell Nick I said so. Also, his wife’s pregnant, so I probably shouldn’t be thinking it.Isaid, ‘Just because she’s his cousin, that doesn’t mean she can cook.’ Iwantedto say, ‘Using his cousin for our catering isn’t going to make him ask that you be cast in his next film. It’s some desert action flick anyway. No need for a surfer.’ I didn’t say it, though. Tact, my mum keeps telling me.” She laughed again. “Pity Nick isn’t getting any tact.”
“I reckon he knows that by now,” her mum said.
“Not my best thing, either,” Willow said. “But... here.” She scrolled through her photos again on her phone and held it out. “I can help you with that as well.”
It was a shot from Rafe and Jace’s double wedding. She was standing between her big, dark cousins, her arms thrown into the air, in a 1920s-inspired blue beaded dress Azra had found for her, while they made a chair with their linked arms and hoisted her into the air between them, laughing in their black dinner jackets. One of her favorite snaps, possibly because it was almost the only time in her life that she’d actually looked glamorous.
“Wait,” Jessica said. She looked at Willow, then down at the photo again. “You’re joking.”
“Nah,” Willow said. “Rafe’s my cousin.” She smiled, as much at the look on Amanda’s face as anything else. “He’s a total sweetheart, but don’t tell anybody. And I can get you his autograph.”
