Page 5 of Dancing with a Ghost

"Enjoy your day, Aaron. Excuse me, I have other guests to greet," and then I was gone.

Fucking hell, I could have done without him being here. I turned to watch him greet another couple with air kisses, noting how he dressed. He'd taken the beach theme to a whole new level; white shorts, a low-necked white vest with a green, pineapple patterned shirt on top, a white canvas bag, and dark sunglasses completing the look. He still looked good, but I wouldn't go there again. Not in this life, anyway.

As the garden filled, I could see Jeremy getting progressively more nervous, glancing down the aisle, waiting for his bride. I attracted his attention, giving him the thumbs up. It wouldn't be long. I could see Tabitha in the doorway off to the side, looking resplendent in a long, white, sleeveless dress. Her blonde hair trailing in perfect curls over her shoulder. She carried a bouquet of brightly coloured flowers and green leaves, oranges, and reds, standing out against the white of her dress.

As the opening bars of their chosen song rang out across the garden, the chatter subsided and I watched as Jeremy visibly shook either from excitement or panic. I wasn't sure which.

Tabitha had chosen to walk down the aisle alone, and her smile widened as she reached Jeremy. My work here was done for the time being, and I made my way silently inside to the garden room.

Everything needed to be perfect with the amount of money they were spending. The band needed feeding beforehand, and I had around thirty minutes. I'd best get a move on.

The garden room looked perfect. The orchids I'd chosen stood proudly on the tables. I'd outdone myself this time, even if I said so myself. Eight tables, other than the top table, ten chairs per table. I mentally calculated we had enough and checked each lilac bow was perfectly tied.

That done, I made my way to the kitchen to be met with complete chaos and raised voices.

What the hell?

A chef stood off to the side, a very sharp knife in his hand, threatening one of the band members. I didn't know what was going on, but this had to stop. Food needed to be served.

"Hey," I shouted, but to no avail. I tried again, this time banging a rolling pin on the stainless steel counter. "What the hell, people!"

That got their attention.

"Just what in god's name is going on?" I looked around at the red faces. "Someone needs to tell me why, with only thirty minutes to go, we're having this shouting match?"

A chorus of voices started up again, not one of them making sense. I held my hands up, waiting for them to quiet down again. It was like dealing with children.

"One at a time." I pointed at the chef who was holding the knife. "You first and put the knife down, please."

He put it on the counter and took a step back.

"He," he said, pointing to the band member, "took a lobster and now we don't have enough."

"You said to help ourselves. You said nothing about not taking a lobster." The guy with the long hair argued.

"Did you honestly think they were there for just anyone to eat? Fuck my life." The chef turned away, mumbling under his breath.

That was all I needed, not having enough food for the wedding party.

"There has to be something you can do. Surely you didn't just bring the right amount?"

"Well, yes, we did." The chef said, turning back towards me.

I rolled my eyes. Did they not allow for accidents or mistakes?

"So, what are we going to do? What are you going to do? I've ninety guests here expecting lobster and we only have eighty-nine."

I could feel my temper rising. This was why I hated weddings, so much stress. Give me business conferences any day.

The chef looked around at his colleagues, none of them seeming to know what to do. "I suppose we could go back to the shop. We have one there, but it might not be the same standard." He replied.

"You have thirty minutes before the food service starts. I suggest you get a move on." I tried not to show my frustration at their ineptitude, but just like that, we averted the crisis.

Why they didn't think of that before, I don't know. What I really wanted was a sit down and a massage. My shoulders had more knots than a boy scout camp.

"You lot," I said, addressing the band, "go find something to eat that isn't lobster and hurry up about it."

Another of the catering team directed them to a table over to the side, instructing them what they could and couldn't eat.

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