“Bringing Teresa. They should be here any minute.”
“What’s she like? I’ve never spoken to her. We’ve communicated so far via email.”
Jonathon was not about to reveal Mike’s initial impressions. After spending five minutes with her, he’d sent Jonathon a text.
God, she loves herself.
“I haven’t met her yet,” Jonathon said truthfully. He gazed at the large easel where the seating plan was balanced. Each table had a large number at the center, clearly visible. He stepped closer to peer at the list below Table 1. “I’m sure you have your reasons, Heather, but putting you, me, and Mike all on one table with Teresa? Wouldn’t it be better to spread us around a little?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Probably, but I wasn’t thinking logically. It was more along the lines of ‘I want you there for moral support.’”
He could understand that. It was Heather’s first major event, and she was barely keeping her nerves in check. “Fair enough. I just hope Teresa doesn’t feel overwhelmed.” He took another look at the list. “Have you met any of the other authors at our table?”
Heather shook her head. “The only people I know at the table are you, Mike, and Fiona McBride. I haven’t met the other authors yet, and the additional guests aren’t even from Merrychurch. They’ve come for the festival.” She smiled. “Every B and B and guesthouse in the village must be at bursting point, there are so many visitors.”
Jonathon had wondered about the unfamiliar names at their table. “Fiona McBride. She’s a villager, isn’t she? Doesn’t she live near the water mill?”
“That’s right. And we had to put her at the top table. She’s Teresa’s number one fan.”
Jonathon chuckled. “Okay. Shades of Misery here. As long as she doesn’t do a Kathy Bates number on her.”
Heather tut-tutted. “Fiona created the Teresa Malvain Fan Club. It’s a huge undertaking, because Teresa has fans all over the world. The Summersfield books have been translated into several languages. Fiona runs the website for the club. She keeps readers posted on everything Teresa is doing, new releases, social media links….”
“Then I can understand why you’d put her on our table. It wouldn’t be right to seat her anywhere else.” Jonathon took another glance at the board. “And we’ve got Professor Harcourt too. That could make for some interesting dinner conversation.” He grinned. “Don’t you agree?”
“Oh sure. Murder and forensics. I can see it now. Teresa will be talking about killing people, and the professor will be talking about what he does when the bodies end up on his table.” Heather shuddered. “Please tell me I placed them next to each other, so the rest of us don’t have to listen to their grisly conversation.”
Jonathon burst into laughter. “I hardly think their discussions will be grisly.” He peered at his watch. “We’d better get out there.” He’d arranged for waiters to be in place in the entrance hall, serving glasses of wine or juice.
They left the ballroom and were immediately immersed in a crowd of people drinking and talking animatedly. Jonathon caught sight of Mike as he entered the hall, an immaculately dressed woman with a discontented expression at his side. The first thought to cross Jonathon’s mind was that Teresa needed to look like she was happy to be there. He walked toward them, his hand outstretched.
“Welcome to de Mountford Hall.”
Teresa took it briefly. “Then you must be our host, Jonathon de Mountford. I remember your uncle, Dominic. He seemed a fair man, if a little aloof.”
For a moment Jonathon was shocked into silence by the sharp remark. He quickly recovered. “Strange. I never found him to be like that. But maybe that’s because I knew him better than most.” He bit back the words including you. It wouldn’t do to offend the guest of honor before the festival had begun, even one who appeared not to care whom she offended. “I’ve been informed you were once a resident of Merrychurch. Has it changed much?”
Teresa gave a little snort. “Hardly. But then, Merrychurch always felt like it was stuck in a different era.” She didn’t make it sound like that was a good thing.
Mike cleared his throat. “Are they ready for us in there?”
Jonathon really hoped so. Polite small talk with Teresa was not his idea of fun. In as few as two exchanges, she’d succeeded in putting his back up. “Let’s find out.” As he walked toward the ballroom door, it opened and a waiter appeared, dressed in black.
“We’re ready for you and your guests, Mr. de Mountford.”
Before Jonathon could thank him, Teresa’s sharp voice interjected. “Mr. de Mountford? I’d have thought living in the manor house, you were at least a lord or something.”
“The de Mountfords are one of the oldest families in England,” a female voice exclaimed suddenly. They were joined by a middle-aged woman in a dark blue dress and jacket. “The title may have died out, but thankfully the family has not.”
Teresa arched her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Thank you for the history lesson, Mrs.….”
“McBride. Fiona McBride.” Fiona gave a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me.”
Teresa stared. “We’ve met before?”
Fiona nodded. “I’ve lived in Merrychurch many years. And I remember you before you were Teresa Malvain.”
Teresa stilled, her expression impassive. Then she nodded slowly. “Fiona McBride. Of course. You’re the one who runs that little club.”
Fiona gaped, but then regained her posture. “Seeing as it currently has over four thousand members, I wouldn’t call it little.”
Mike coughed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s go in.” He gave Jonathon a compassionate glance, then gestured to the ballroom door. “After you, Ms. Malvain.”
Jonathon waited until everyone was inside before entering. He smiled to himself when he caught Mike’s clear voice, announcing to the waiting crowd that dinner would be served shortly and for everyone to take their places. Leave it to the ex-copper to take charge. When Jonathon felt a pat on his arm, he turned to find Heather at his side, the only person remaining.
“Let me repeat what a wise man said to me last night. Breathe, Jonathon.”
Jonathon chuckled. “Is it that obvious?” He held out his arm. “Allow me to escort you in to dinner, Miss Caldicott.”
“Delighted, Mr. de Mountford.” As they strolled through the ballroom doors, she leaned in. “Dinner is going to be more interesting than I anticipated.”
Jonathon sighed. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Heather laughed. “It probably won’t be as awful as you think.” She cast a glance in Teresa’s direction. “Although….”
They made their way to the top table, where Mike had seated Teresa. Most of the seats were already occupied. A tall, thin man with a shock of brown hair and gold-rimmed glasses stood as Jonathon approached, his hand held out.
“Mr. de Mountford, I’m delighted to meet you. Phil McCallister.”