Page 1 of The Estate
Chapter One
The Wedding
Rachel's calm demeanor and upturned mouth gave nothing away, but each step was a test of her patience. When Trace, the event planner, popped her head into the bridal suite and insisted on speaking with the bride, Rachel quickly stepped in to handle the situation. Now the woman was vibrating with anxiety, wringing her hands while mumbling about ruined meals and stubborn caterers.
Out of their group, Rachel was clearly the best choice to handle whatever last-minute emergency had erupted.
Having known and worked with Lisa for years, Rachel was very in-tune with her friend’s low tolerance for drama and incompetence. When Trace huffed out another melodramatic sigh, that was all the confirmation Rachel needed. Lisa would smother this woman with a decorative pillow.
Naturally, Lottie was laser-focused on the custom wedding gown she’d created. When she wasn’t ensuring that each piece of lace was appropriately displayed on the dress, she was basking in the arms of her new boyfriend, Adam.
And dear, sweet Alex was moments away from walking down the aisle. Her day should be about marrying the love of her life. Not babysitting temperamental planners and inflexible caterers.
No. Rachel was the obvious choice to handle any issues, but as they made their way through White Hall Estate, Rachel hadto wonder if that was really true. Her recent job transfer to a new team had shaken her confidence. While she knew any new position required an adjustment period, she couldn’t shake the idea that her new boss was less than happy with her. And she didn’t know how to rectify that.
Clearing her throat, she pushed those thoughts away. She needed to be focused and in her best problem-solving mode. At least this was a problem she could fix.
Inhaling deeply and giving her hands a shake, she re-focused on the task ahead. The event planner was still on a diatribe.
Ugh. This lady.
She kept complaining about the caterer refusing to cook for the wedding reception, her tone getting higher with each word. Her voice was grating on Rachel’s last nerve, which was saying something. But the more Trace talked, the more Lisa’s pillow approach sounded like a perfect option.
Turning into the foyer, it was evident the reception preparations were in full swing. Stopping outside the ballroom doors, she placed her hand on Trace’s arm, effectively ending the woman’s almost non-stop chatter.
“Trace,” she said in a light tone. “I recognize how busy things are. Why don’t I just go speak to the caterer and get this whole mess figured out? That frees you up to handle the important matters that need your attention.”
“Oh, would you?” Trace replied, her body slumping in relief. “There are just so many details that go into an event like this. You can’t imagine.”
“I’m happy to help,” said Rachel, leaning in to give Trace’s arm a reassuring pat. She straightened and looked over her shoulder. “Is the kitchen down the hallway to the left or right?”
“On the left.”
When Rachel turned back, Trace was already in motion. “Just follow it straight down. You’ll run right into the kitchen!”
Rachel paused, watching the other woman powerwalk away. Guess that was that. Time to get this wedding back on schedule. Rachel sidestepped a worker carrying a stack of chairs, being careful not to run into anyone as she turned into the hallway.
The farther she walked away from the foyer and ballroom, the easier it became to hear the banging of pots and calls for various food items coming from the kitchen. When someone emerged through the last doorway on the right carrying a tray of glasses, she knew she’d found the destination. Hurrying the last few steps, she turned to enter and collided with a solid, warm wall of person.
Large hands gripped her elbows, steadying her. Her hands landed on what turned out to be the rather sculpted chest of the man trying to run her down.
“Oh, hey. Sorry about that,” a honeyed baritone voice said. Looking up, she saw the voice was attached to some equally delightful emerald-green eyes.
Rachel tried to get her bearings, but the chaotic kitchen noises, along with the looming nearness ofEmerald Eyes, made it hard to gather herself.
“Are you okay?” he inquired.
Flustered, it required a moment for her to respond, all the while cataloging the man’s features. “Yes, I was just…”
“You can’t be back here,” he interrupted, the honeyed inflection of his voice now gruff. “This area is for staff only.”
She didn’t care for his tone change at all, but didn’t respond because she was suddenly very aware of her hands.
Her hands.
Which were touching him.
On his chest.
