“No… maybe,” Mick said, snorting a laugh and shaking his head at her. He folded his arms over his pristine apron and fluttered a smiling eyeroll. “Ifwe do a few more successful trial runs like this,andSmithers finally retires the photography studio and we get the go ahead to take over some of his space…”
“Then you’ll get a big fat raise as the head of catering?” Zoe said, lifting an enticing grin and raising to her tiptoes to lift her encouragement even higher.
His eyebrows lifted up and down and he smirked arrogantly sweetly. “Let’s get through the next few hours first.” In another life, she’d totally have a crush on him, but he was a loving father of two and married to a woman Zoe happened to adore. And he was ten years older than her. But still. Charming and gorgeous.
“It’s a deal.” Zoe glanced meaningfully at the hallway to the ballroom and whispered, “It’ll be great, as long as the lady of the house doesn’t terrify all our staff into abandoning ship tonight.”
He snorted a laugh and popped his knuckles. “I already kicked her out once,” he whispered deviously and flashed her a wink.
“I’ll see if Grady can help rein in his mother.” Zoe hooked a one-sided grin and knocked him in the arm again. “Anyway. Evan threatened to extricatemefrom the kitchen if I take too long, so I’d better get back out there.”
“Go. Have fun. Relax. Behave like a guest.”
She smiled as she brushed around him and aimed for the doorway to the ballroom. Ballroom. Ha. She still couldn’t believe her brother married someone whose mother owned a house big enough for a ballroom. Thank fucking goodness Haley wasn’t the pretentious snob her mother was.
Speak of the devil. Wow. Yeah. Probably the closest that idiom had ever come to mirroring reality. But, okay, Haley promised her mother was doing therapy and yoga and Tai Chi and everything she could to learn to cherish the moment and practice gratitude.
“Zoe. Everything is truly incredible,” Patricia said as she blocked the doorway, two frothy brews in her hands, completely blocking the exit. Shit.
“Thanks,” Zoe said brightly, smiling wide and practicing a little of that gratitude herself… because Patricia wasn’t disappointed, as she typically hired very expensive caterers for her parties. Pardon—galas, and probably events and even fêtes. Well, if those all meant party. Zoe wasn’t actually sure, but she knew the winter gala was a major annual thing here. “Haley is absolutely stunning.”
“Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky as to have three such attractive but truly grounded children.”
Grounded might not be the right term for all of them. Sexy as Ryder was, from everything she’d heard, he was a slick marketing consultant and as relaxed as his stick-in-the-mud mother.
With a flip of her stiff silver hair, Patricia smiled and extended one of the beers to Zoe. “You know, I never cared for champagne anyway. I have no taste for sweetness.”
Okay. Zoe took the glass, her fingers instantly cold. Had the woman chilled the glass below freezing with her icy demeanor? Because Zoe was pretty sure they weren’t serving the beer in frosty glasses.
Although, Patricia was oddly warm and kind at the moment… huh. “Thank you,” Zoe said, hoping surprise didn’t leak into her tone.
Patricia lifted her glass and lifted the corners of her lips into a smooth smile. “We are family now, and I am so pleased that we’ll be seeing so much of each other. To a bright future?”
Speechless and, frankly, confused as hell, Zoe lifted her glass and nodded agreeably.
They both drank, and Zoe watched the woman over the rim of her glass. For an uptight toothpick, Patricia could put it away. She tipped her head back and had half the pint drained in a single gulp. Zoe couldn’t match half of that—although, she was a good three inches shorter, but still.
Patricia lifted her hand and awkwardly patted Zoe on the opposite shoulder, as if trying to put her arm around her but not understanding the nuances of the gesture. And Zoe suddenly felt really, really bad. The woman might actually have something. Interpersonal relationships were so unnatural for her… she might truly not know.
Guilt rippling through her, Zoe led Patricia out of the kitchen—before the woman strolled back in and disrupted Mick’s flow. “I am in awe of your home. Everything is so beautiful tonight.”
Patricia sipped again as she looked over the happy crowd. Pub-height tables hosted clusters of with guests standing around, potted trees stood halfway to the ceiling and were lit up like a fairytale to provide warmth in an oversized room that could easily feel stark. Not waiting for dinner, Haley and Finn had already started dancing in the middle of the room, and were now joined by dozens of others enjoying the playful and romantic atmosphere. Outside, the sun was starting to dip low, propane heaters were going, little gas fireplaces and tons of benches and cushy seats, blankets in baskets, and guests flowed in and out as they settled in for the evening.
“I cannot take credit for tonight. Much of this was Haley’s vision, and I’ve convinced her to let me hire her for future galas. She plans to add to her blog and vlog with it. Back in San Francisco, she was essentially a party planner, so I love how she is using her talents together.”
Thank fucking goodness Haley was down to earth. Zoe sometimes forgot she grew up stinking rich, then married and divorced a wealthy man who enjoyed flaunting it. Of course, Zoe still had trouble picturing how much dough Finn must have swelling in the bank after his years as a pro football player and Super Bowl champ.
“You know…” Patricia said, her gaze landing across the dance floor at a group standing near the exterior door, where both of her sons stood visiting with a few of Finn and Haley’s friends.
…And…
Zoe waited for the rest.
…And?
Head tilting curiously, Patricia cast a meaningful side eye at Zoe, and that polite smile she’d been sporting turned a little witchy, quite frankly. “You went to school with Ryder, didn’t you?”
Well, it was Foothills. Technically everyone sort of went to school with everyone. “He was a few years ahead of me.” And Zoe absolutely did not mention that she had been dreamy eyed for the gorgeous blue-eyed, bright and handsome and inaccessibly charming teenager. Despite the delicious flirtation during the ceremony, and, okay, the zinging bubbles that erupted every time he looked at her, she was a realist. A realist who enjoyed playtime.
