“Hello, Lila.” His eyes roamed over the table and then back to me with interest. “Invitations, huh? Does that mean you and lover boy have actually set the date?”
“You mean Sean?” I tried to play it cool and not let irritation show in my voice. “We’re still trying to work out the date. It’s difficult with our busy schedules,” I explained. “If you’re looking for something to do, Franklin could probably use some help getting authors situated.”
He, of course, ignored my subtle suggestion to take a hike. Jude and I had a strange history. The first month I worked at the agency, his charm and his oh-so-sparkly brown eyes lured me into a foolish and regrettable kiss. I’d long ago come to my senses, realizing that Jude was a ladies’ man and I . . . Well, I was a one-man type of lady, and that man was Sean. Nonetheless, there were times when a little leftover spark from that bygone kiss threatened to derail my best judgment. Like now. When he playfully snatched up my hand and pointed at my naked finger while making a tsk-tsk sound.
“No ring, Lila?” he said. “What is that man thinking? If you were my fiancée, I’d make sure the deal was sealed.”
I slid my hand out of his, irritated that his touch made my heart beat faster. “He’s still looking for the perfect ring. He wants to make sure I’m happy.”
Jude shot me a wink, his full lips turning up at the corners. “If you say so, darlin’.”
I sighed. Jude had been playing this little game with me ever since things turned serious between Sean and me. And much to my annoyance, he always knew just the right nerve to hit. Truth was, I’d dropped hint after hint of the type of ring I wanted. Something vintage, reflective of my personal style. But still, no ring. And the wedding date? Well, Sean and I couldn’t agree on that, either. I was vying for next spring, while he wanted to push things off until Christmas of next year when he could get a little more time off work.
Suddenly, Jude’s gaze hit on something behind me that caused his playful expression to turn serious. I wheeled around to see what had caught his attention. It was Bentley. She was thundering down the hallway, her arms swinging with determination. “We’ve got a problem,” she said to Jude, her voice low and tight. “There’s something wrong with the refrigeration system in the kitchen area. The walk-in cooler isn’t working. There’s a half-dozen buttercream cakes back there, ready for tomorrow afternoon’s cake display and tasting. If the refrigeration goes out, the cakes will be ruined.”
Jude turned his palms upward and shrugged. “What do you want me to do? I don’t know anything about refrigerators.”
“Doesn’t this place have some sort of maintenance service?” Bentley wanted to know.
I immediately thought of the handyman at the Magnolia Bed and Breakfast. I remembered him saying he’d just taken a maintenance contract with the Arts Center. I told the others what I knew. “He’s just down the road. I’m sure he could get here quickly.”
“Guess he’ll have to do,” Bentley agreed reluctantly. She glanced at her watch and then turned back to Jude. “Call over to the Magnolia and see if that guy’s still there. If so, tell him that I’m offering a generous tip if he can get over here fast.”
Jude took out his cell and shuffled down the hall to make the call. In the meantime, Bentley and I turned our attention back to the front doors to wait for the next group of authors. Here and there, a vendor would stray outside and return with a box of extra supplies. They’d spent the last two days setting up their booths, and an almost palpable feeling of excitement hung in the air as they bustled about, putting the final touches on displays.
A few minutes later, Jude came back with some news. “Chuck, the handyman, said he could be here in about twenty minutes.”
Bentley nodded. “Good. Let’s hope it’s something simple that he can fix quickly. Chef Belmonte has a demonstration later this afternoon.”
“Belmonte?” I didn’t recognize the name.
“He’s the executive chef at Machiavelli’s,” Jude supplied. “The place opened last summer. It’s good, too. All handmade pasta. I’m surprised you haven’t been there. I just saw your mother there a couple of days ago.”
“Mama?” Huh. Strange she didn’t mention it to me. Then again, we didn’t keep track of each other’s every move.
“Speaking of the devil,” Jude said, nodding toward the walk outside, where Mama was bent forward, struggling to carry a sign against the snowy wind. I ran out to give her a hand.
“Here, Mama. Let me help you.”