“Me?” she asked, doe-like eyes shocked. “Why?”
“Because you’ve almost convinced me.”
“Good. Because I’m right. You need to get back on the horse of being social.”
Grumbling, I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know.”
“You’re done with the book now, aren’t you?” she said. “Wasn’t that a big part of your stress—having to make excuses for why you hadn’t finished? Now you can tell them you’re done. The book is out of your hands.”
“That’s true.” Dani had a point. I was no longer the privileged jerk writer who was taking too long to finish his book. I was the responsible, hard-working author who was waiting for notes from his editor.
“And we wouldn’t have to jump into the deep end socially. No pub quizzes right off the bat. Start small,” she said. “Kelsie told me she tried to get you to come to game night at our house. I think that’s a great idea. My family is super welcoming, and no one will bother you, I promise.”
Maybe starting small with Dani’s family wasn’t a bad idea. It might even be fun. “That’s what Kelsie said.”
“And if she, a nineteen-year-old, is on record saying her family is cool, you have to believe her.”
I chuckled and kissed her nose. “Okay, when would we do this?”
“How about tonight?”
“Tonight sounds perfect.”
She kissed me lightly on the lips. I tried to coerce her back down to my level, but she pulled away from me. “You might be done, but I still have work to do.”
“Your boss sounds like a real jerk.”
“Oh, he is.” She kissed me again and left, leaving me alone with an unfamiliar and not unwelcome thought—what the hell was I going to do with myself for the rest of the day?
Chapter Twelve
Dani
“Some of these look great, and some of them look hideous,” Gerald said as he scanned the cookies on the kitchen counter.
“That’s the point,” I said. “I decorated some, and Matt and my daughter, Kelsie, did the rest.” She’d come over early this morning to help me finish up the cookies before Gerald arrived. I’d had to drag her out of bed kicking and screaming at seven a.m. “It’s a cookie bar. Everyone gets to decorate their cookies to their taste and to the best of their abilities.”
Gerald picked up the tree Matt had done the other night. The frosting had been glopped on, and he’d hastily applied M&M ornaments. “This isn’t going to ruin the aesthetic of the whole event?”
“No.” I pushed the bowl of sprinkles toward the middle of the counter. “The cookie bar is the aesthetic. We focus on how the display looks.” I waved my hand to indicate the assembly line I’d created in the kitchen. “A beautiful, inviting cookie tray we’ll keep stocked all night. I found a bunch of Spode Christmas bowls in the basement here that we can fill with candies and toppings in all colors of the rainbow.”
“In all colors that fit our theme,” he corrected me.
“Right,” I said.
Gerald stood from his stool. “Well, I think we’re on track and on the same page.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.
Una’s voice jumped into my head. Just go for it, Dani. Seize the opportunity. “Where are you off to?” I asked him.
He rolled his eyes. “Meeting with a bride who’s getting married in January. She’s the type where everything I suggest gets a ‘No’ answer. She knows what she wants, and no one can tell her otherwise. Just wait until I give her the bad news that our regular caterer quit.”
And…here was my opening. “You know,” I said, “I’m going to be fully available in early January. I’m…” I stood up straighter. “I’d like to be considered for the job.”
“Dani.” Gerald tilted his head. “You’ve been cooking for one man professionally, and only for a few weeks. This position requires a bit more experience.”
“I know.” I pulled out my phone. “But I’ve honestly been training for this my entire life.” I opened up my Instagram app and showed him my most recent story, where I talk about meal planning and using up ingredients before they go bad. “Food is what I do,” I said. “I cooked for decades for my family, and catering would simply be an expansion of that.”
He took my phone and scrolled through my feed. “I don’t deny you have talent.”
“Thank you.”
“And…wow.” He paused and held up the phone to show me. “You got over a thousand views on this one.” It was a video of me teaching Kelsie and Raithnait how not to poison their family with salmonella while cooking chicken.
“Well,” I said. “Part of that is because I tagged my niece in it. She has her own fans.” Raithnait was following in her mother’s footsteps and was quite a sensation on TikTok, whatever that was. I hoped I wouldn’t have to find out. Keeping up with Instagram was more than enough for me.
Gerald watched the video intently. “Let’s put a pin in the caterer idea,” he said. “I’ll withhold judgment on that until I see how you handle the premiere party.”
“Fair enough,” I said, smiling. “That can be my audition.”
“You know, though,” he said, “where I think you’d really be an asset to us is in the promotional realm.”
“Okay…” My stomach sank. I merely tolerated this whole social media thing. Una loved it and thrived on it, but it still felt like a chore to me. However, I kept telling myself to keep an open mind. Opportunities didn’t always look or feel like opportunities from the outset. I would hear Gerald out.
“If we hired you to use your social media presence to promote our catering and event business, you could really put the Wackernagel Resort and Spa on the map.” He handed me the phone back and started pacing, eyes staring off into the distance. “We’re always trying to differentiate from other businesses around town—the hotels and restaurants and bed and breakfasts. If you could post your food pictures and cooking videos…” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, and definitely share a few pictures of M.C. Bradford hanging around the resort, show the world that we cater to the elite of the elite.”
I glanced at the kitchen door to make sure we were alone. “I can’t do that.”
“Well,” Gerald said, “I’m not asking you to candidly take his picture and post it without his knowledge. Get his approval. He’s a famous person. He’s used to those kinds of requests.”