Playing for Keeps Read Online Free PDF Page A

get why anyone would want to spend a fortune on a party that lasted only a few hours and was attended by a bunch of people no one really liked.
    Back when I dreamed of marrying Kevin (that jerk), I wanted a wedding, but I was going to have a small garden wedding with only family and close friends. A small, elegant celebration of the love between us.
    Small apparently wasn’t a word in Nell’s vocabulary.
    “I want the menu to be grand, with lots of choices. My fiancé‘s parents are vegetarian, so we want to make sure to accommodate them.”
    “Vegetarian?” I gasped. “Does Daddy know?”
    She elbowed me in the ribs. Hard.
    This was bad. Daddy was a lieutenant colonel in the Marines until Mom died. He only decided to retire so he could be home with us instead of being deployed all the time. That was seventeen years ago, but he was still hardcore. He had beliefs, and one of them was that a good American ate beef.
    I rubbed my side and tried to concentrate on what the caterer was saying, which was hard because of the prevailing scent of roasted lamb wafting through the office. It made my tummy gnaw on its own juices. I bet she piped in the aroma through the vents on purpose.
    “That won’t be a problem.” The woman pulled out a file from behind her desk and flipped it open. “I have the perfect menu here that offers a large selection of vegetarian choices as well as meat.” She bared her pointy teeth at us. I think it was supposed to be a smile. “For the carnivores.”
    Creepy. I knew there was something wrong with her the moment I saw her. She looked like she was auditioning to be a Stepford wife. She wore a pink suit à la the 50’s. I couldn’t decide if it was retro cool or just plain weird. Her hair was mildly bouffanted, and the kicker was I doubted she was much older than me.
    Her office matched her: lots of pink and lace. Her desk was polished so finely I could see every pore on my face in the reflection.
    I had a vision of what the buffet would look like if we hired her. Lace doilies and servers dressed like June Cleaver.
    Nell didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Maybe she didn’t care about the doilies. “Great. How much would it be per plate?”
    The caterer pushed a piece of paper toward us.
    Oh. My. God . I almost fainted. I wondered if she had smelling salts stashed in her desk. No, smelling salts were Victorian. Martinis were the 50’s. I opened my mouth to ask for one—dirty with three olives.
    Before I could speak Nell said, “That seems reasonable. We estimate about a hundred guests.”
    A hundred people? Where was Nell going to find a hundred people?
    Another flash of sharp teeth. “A hundred guests would be no problem at all. Our usual event size is between two and five hundred.”
    “And you do wedding cakes as well, right?”
    “Yes.” She added hastily, “At an added cost.”
    “Would it be okay if I take the menu home and go over with my fiancé?”
    “Of course. However, I’ll need a deposit as soon as possible to reserve the date.”
    Okay, I was confused. Where were the samples? Wasn’t one of the perks of picking a caterer that you got to try their food free? I’d been looking forward to tasting cakes, too.
    I waited until we were in Nell’s Lexus to ask her.
    She just laughed as she fastened her seatbelt. “Betsy Taylor doesn’t give out samples. She gets her business by referral only. She’s the best caterer in Portland.”
    Color me ignorant but I had doubts that was the way it was supposed to work. Maybe I was just disappointed she hadn’t fawned all over us. I’d been really looking forward to that. “Didn’t you think she was weird?”
    “Anyone who wears a skirt is weird to you.”
    I couldn’t deny that. I didn’t remember the last time I wore a skirt. Anyone who’d willingly put one on had to have a screw loose.
    Nell glanced at me as she pulled onto the street. “You know as a bridesmaid you’re going to have to wear a dress.”
    I grimaced.