He picked up his phone and, under his startled gaze, the thing started to ring. His heart jackknifed in his chest when he read on his call display the word Chance. He answered so quickly he nearly dropped the damn phone. “Hey there, I was just thinking about you,” he said, feeling warm all over that Marguerite was calling.
A beat of silence that was too long for comfort had him cursing himself for a fool. And then a voice that was definitely not Marguerite’s and laced with humor said, “I’m glad to hear it. I was thinking about you, too, which is why I got my mother to give me your phone number. This isIrisChance.” He noted that she put an emphasis on the word Iris as though he hadn’t already figured out he was not speaking to the delectable Marguerite but to her sister. “We met at the fall fair. I had one of your souvlakis and it was amazing.”
Since she’d brought the dessert to Daphne and Jack’s dinner, he’d sampled one of her pies and found it excellent. He said, “And you bake a mean pie.”
She laughed softly. “Mutual admiration among foodies. That’s a good start.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Well, as you may have heard, I’m getting married.”
He hadn’t said anything because, even though Marguerite had told him that Iris was pregnant and getting married, he wasn’t officially supposed to know these things. Now he had the news from the bride’s mouth, he figured it was okay to say, “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I’m also pregnant. Which is making things just a little bit more complicated.”
“I can imagine. That’s a lot of good news to absorb at once.”
“Exactly! Thank you for understanding. Normally, of course, I would cater my whole wedding myself. But, I have to be realistic. I can only handle the wedding cake.”
He didn’t say anything but in his mind building a wedding cake had to be a huge feat. With a wedding to plan and a business to run and a couple of babies to grow this woman clearly had a lot of energy.
“I was wondering whether you would consider catering my wedding?”
He was about to refuse as he did not do catering. When he’d drawn up his business plan he had decided early on that he would stay narrow in his focus. Food trucks worked for him. He cooked food for the people, and he handed it out to them. He didn’t aspire to own a restaurant. He didn’t want white cloths and crystal glasses and wine lists getting in the way of what, in Greece, was basically street food.
He never wanted to get into the catering industry despite the many requests he’d received. However, he knew that Marguerite was going to be in the wedding party and, lovestruck fool that he was, he could work out that if he catered the wedding he’d have more reasons to see a lady he had come to like very, very much.
He wouldn’t stray too far from his principles, however, not even for Marguerite. So he said, “I don’t do a lot of catering. And I wouldn’t be in a position to change my menu too much.”
“No. I don’t want you to. That’s what I loved about your food. It’s delicious but not fancy. We are planning the world’s most casual wedding. The reception will be at my parents’ place, which is hardly fancy as you know. But it’s got plenty of room and if the weather’s nice people can spill outside. I want our guests to walk around with small bites of delicious food, exactly the kind of stuff that you serve from your truck. Maybe with some smaller bites.”
“What’s your date?”
“Really? ASAP. I would like to be able to get married on the Saturday two weeks from now. But I could stretch it to three depending on your schedule.”
He thought briefly. He had casual staff who could take over his main truck. He’d bring all his food up in one of the smaller trucks. “Two weeks is not a problem. How many people are you expecting?”
“We’re trying to keep it to fifty. But, we have the big family and a lot of friends. So fifty is probably going to be seventy.”
Mentally, he decided to cook enough food for a hundred. He could already see this was the kind of wedding that was going to creep up in numbers. Daphne and Jack Chance being two of the most social people he’d ever met and pillars of their small community, he suspected Iris was going to have a larger wedding than she planned. He said, “I’ll draw up a sample menu and email it to you. I’ll only charge for the cost of the ingredients.”
She started to protest but he cut her off firmly. “My brother’s marrying your sister, that makes us practically family. Besides, I’m working on a cookbook with Marguerite. We can try out some of our new recipes on your guests if that’s okay.”
“I feel awful. I never thought that your brother would want you to caterhiswedding. Will he be upset do you think, if I ask you to cater my wedding first?”
He couldn’t stop the laugh that shook him. “My brother? You think my fancy assed Doctor brother is going to have his wedding catered from a Greek food truck? I’ll bet you fifty bucks that my brother and your sister hire the most expensive hotel in Portland and we dine on tiny, very expensive things that have been flown in from other parts of the world, which we will down with expensive, vintage wines dragged out of somebody’s private cellar.”
Iris’s spurt of laughter was surprisingly like Marguerite’s. “They are well matched, aren’t they? I won’t take that bet, I’m too sure you’re right. Okay, then, if you’re sure, I accept your very generous offer. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
He jotted down a few ideas for a sample menu. A lot of what he was imagining were items he already cooked but on a smaller scale. He’d keep it simple, scale down his spanakopitas, cook up cocktail-size skewers of souvlaki, Greek lemon potatoes that could be served with toothpicks. A variety of dips with pita bread and small chunks of feta done in different marinades. And big bowls of olives. He’d serve his Tomatoes Marguerite if she could get him some good tomatoes.
