Page 57 of Touch the Sky
That’s when I recognize her as Jacinthe’s cousin Maddie. We’ve met a couple times at the farm and around town, but I haven’t seen her all dressed up since the grand opening here at the inn. She’s wearing a floor-length black dress with a long, knitted blue cardigan on top that somehow looks chic instead of frumpy.
“Ouais, chérie!” Gabrielle answers. “We’re coming.”
Maddie is shifting the bags around on her arms when we reach her.
“I had some extra bread rolls and things waiting in the car in case we needed them,” she explains, “which of course we do, since there are already at least ten people here who weren’t on the guest list.”
Gabrielle gives me a ‘told you so’ wink.
I insist on helping Maddie with some of the bags. She slides a couple of them onto my arms and then leads the way up to the porch. Warm light spills through the windows onto the array of wicker couches and chairs stuffed with pillows. The sound of the crowd is coming from around the back of the property, which must be where the party is happening. The inn itself is nearly empty when we step inside.
There’s a distant racket of clanking dishes, simmering pots, and frantic voices in the kitchen, which is where Maddie takes us to drop off the bags.
Gabrielle told me most of the food is being handled by a catering company all the families pitched in to cover. That hasn’t stopped the kitchen from turning into chaos, though. Caterers are rushing around to get things heated up and plated, barking orders at each other as they careen around the island like too many hamsters piled into a wheel.
Natalie bursts through the back door while we’re still hovering on the threshold. Her thick, curly hair is doing its best to escape from a slicked back ponytail, and her face is bright pink and shiny, like she’s been sprinting laps in the backyard.
Her eyes lock on us with the desperation of a drowning woman.
“Bread rolls?” she calls across the kitchen.
Maddie holds up one of her bags. “Lots!”
“Oh, thank god.”
She swoops over, somehow avoiding any collisions with the caterers, and scoops the plastic bags out of my arms.
“Oh, hi Tess,” she says once she’s already turned away to settle the load on the counter. “Hi, Gabrielle. Sorry about all this. We blew a fuse on one of the ovens, and also a table caught on fire outside, so it’s been, um, an eventful start.”
“A table caughtfire?” Maddie barks.
“Just a little,” Natalie says. “One of your cousins is already like three beers deep and knocked a candle over. Just a minor scorch to the tablecloth, but I’ve been running around replacing all the real candles with those battery-operated ones from the storage closet. I don’t know why we ever thought our relatives could handle alcohol and fire.”
She lets out a tittering laugh that’s verging on hysterical.
“Is there anything we can do?” I ask.
Natalie waves me off. “No, not at all. You’re a guest. Jacinthe is out back supervising the cousins now. You two should go say hi.”
With a lot of cautious maneuvering and only twice getting rammed by caterers, Gabrielle and I make it to the back door. I step out onto the deck, and at first, all I can register is the shock of the chilly October air after the boiling heat of the kitchen.
Then I gasp.
I’ve stepped inside a fairytale.
Chapter 14
Tess
Two long tables draped in white linen fill the center of the yard, the cloths fluttering in the slight evening breeze. The gleaming silverware matches the glinting silver candlesticks arranged in clusters along the crimson table runners. Matching red napkins are sitting folded on each plate, along with what looks like pressed autumn leaves serving as place cards, with everyone’s names scrawled on them in looping silver letters. The artificial candles flicker, reflecting in all the metal and making the whole scene glimmer.
There’s a man perched on a stool under one of the trees, strumming an acoustic guitar with chords melodious enough to convince me he’s not the dreaded nephew Luc. The music seems to glide through the yard like a gentle current, turning everything soft and blurred. The profusion of fairy lights strung along various bushes and branches adds to the effect. The air is filled with the rich, earthy scent of falling leaves.
A few dozen people are milling around, most of them clutching beer bottles or wine glasses as they stand chatting in groups. A band of kids are poking around in the bulrushes lining the pond, squealing and giggling while they take turns dunking some sticks into the muck.
I feel like I’m in a scene from whatever the autumnal equivalent ofA Midsummer Night’s Dreamis. I’m only a few feet away from the stifling bustle of the kitchen, but a dreamy calm has already fallen over me. The only thing disrupting my wonder is the ache of realizing how much I wish Shel was here.
“Maman! Tess!Salut!”
