“And how was it this morning?”
There was a pause … and then something magical happened. Lizzie burst out laughing.
Covering her mouth, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you look like hell. Your hair is all—” She waved a hand around his head. “—a mess, your eyes are barely open, and are you aware that you’re weaving back and forth even though you’re sitting down?”
He grinned. “You should see the other guy.”
“Tough, was he?”
“His hood ornament is now his earring.” Lane lifted up an arm and flexed his biceps. “Real man over here—”
As a set of sharp footfalls came toward them, Lizzie glanced over her shoulder and muttered something under her breath.
Turned out it was that English butler making a beeline for her—except the guy pulled up short as he saw Lane.
“Will you excuse us, Lane,” Lizzie said quietly. “I’ve got to work something out here.”
“Work out what?” he asked the butler.
The Englishman smiled in a way reminiscent of a mannequin at a men’s store. “Nothing that you need to be concerned with, Mr. Baldwine. Miss King, if you would be so kind as to come to my office when you are finished with—”
“What’s happened?” Lane demanded.
“Just a misunderstanding,” Lizzie muttered.
“About. What.”
Lizzie focused on Mr. British Holier Than Thou. “The champagne flute order was cut, and he thinks I called Mackenzie’s and changed it, but I didn’t. I’m happy to help with setup when the stemware and plates arrive, but I’m not responsible for coordinating any of that part of the order. The tents and tables are my job, and they’re exactly what and where they need to be.”
Mr. Harris’s eyes narrowed. “This is a conversation best conducted in my—”
“So it has nothing to do with her.” Lane smiled coldly at the butler. “And you’re done here.”
Lizzie put a hand on his arm, and the contact was such a surprise, it actually shut him up. “It’s okay. Again, I’m happy to do whatever I can to help. Mr. Harris, do you want me to go speak with Mackenzie’s and try to figure out how to fix this snafu?”
The butler glanced back and forth between them. “I know what I ordered. What I cannot explain is why only half the count arrived here.”
“Look, I don’t want to tell you your business,” Lizzie said. “But mistakes on their end have happened before. What we need to do is find out what else is missing and give them a call. It shouldn’t be a problem—did you put the order in personally or go through Rosalinda?”
“I utilized Ms. Freeland, and I gave her the proper counts.”
Lizzie frowned. “She knows how much we order. She’s done this for years.”
“She assured me all would be taken care of. I assumed that the only explanation was someone else on the account reduced the number.”
“You go find her, and I’ll get Greta and start counting through everything. We’ll get this sorted—at least we found out today and not tomorrow morning.”
There was an awkward moment during which the butler said nothing—and Lane wondered how much of the very reasonable plan he was going to have to cram down the little dictator’s throat.
“Very well,” the butler said. “Your assistance is much appreciated.”
As Mr. Harris walked away, Lizzie took a deep breath. “And so we enter the T-minus twenty-four hours stage of things.”
“Can’t some of the other staff do the counting? It’s not your problem.”
“It’s all right. At least if Greta and I do it, I know it’s right. Besides, everyone else on Easterly’s staff is swamped, and it’s not like the adjunct chefs can spare—”
Lane’s phone started ringing, and he took it out of his pocket to silence the noise. “Who the hell is this?” he asked when he saw the local area code.
She laughed again. “You can find out by—brace yourself—answering the call.”
“Are you giving me a hard time?”
“Someone’s got to.”
Lane smiled so wide, his cheeks stretched. “Okay, let’s roll the dice and see who it is.” He hit the green means go and said in his best Lurch voice, “Yooooou raaaaaaaaannnng—”
“Lane—oh, God, Lane, I need help.”
“Gin?” He sat up in the chair. “Gin, are you okay?”
“I’m downtown at the Washington County Jail. You have to come bail me out—I—”
“What the hell? What are you—”
“I need a lawyer—”
“Okay, okay, slow down.” He got to his feet. “You’re talking so fast I can’t understand you.”
His sister took a pause and then said four complete sentences that bottomed him out.
“All right,” he said grimly. “I’m coming right now. Yes. Right. Okay. I will.”
When he hung up, all he could do was trace Lizzie’s face with his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“My father had Gin arrested. I’ve literally got to go and bail her out at the county jail.”