Page 146 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas

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“You have to stop!” Panic welled inside me. “My—my sister is supposed to get married here in three days!”

The guy’s eyes widened. “You have to be mistaken, miss. Are you sure this is the right address?”

“Yes, I’m sure, I’m the bloody wedding planner!” I shouted. “Oh, God. Please, you have to stop. Look, I can prove it. My card.” I fumbled in my bag for my business card holder and opened it, but my shaky hands weren’t strong enough to hold onto it. It clattered to the floor, sending my cards scattering across the compacted snow.

He bent down and picked one up. “All right, Miss… Harding, is it? Hold on.”

Hold on?

Hold onto what?

The wedding venue with no roof?

I know Hazel always wanted a winter wonderland wedding, but this was a bit too on the nose.

And since when did council contractors work this close to Christmas?

The guy pulled a radio out of his pocket. “Stop. Got a woman here saying her sister’s getting married here in three days.”

He still didn’t believe me.

The contract.

I had to pull up the business contract.

My phone.

Where was my phone?

In my bag?

Oh, but my hands. Shaky hands. If I dropped my phone, I’d be done for.

“Yeah, will do.” The guy put his radio away. “Miss, please calm down. Did you come here in your car?”

“I—yes. I’m parked over there.” I pointed to behind the trucks. “The old Land Rover.”

“All right. Go sit in your car, and the boss will be over there in a second.”

Right.

My car.

I could get the contract then, and it wouldn’t matter if I dropped my phone.

“Okay.” I swallowed down my panic and turned back for my car.

I couldn’t be big sister Sylvie right now.

I had to be wedding planner Sylvie.

I had to be cool, calm, collected.

Wedding planner Sylvie could fix this.

Right?

Wedding planner Sylvie could fix everything.

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