Chapter 21
The days after meeting Max and Daisy blurred into a chaotic dance of wedding preparations and Harrington gala demands.
Julian had managed to get her contract signed in forty-eight hours, with the first payment already in her new business account.
Combined with the money from Fenella’s wedding, it felt surreal to finally be able to see a way out of the financial pit she’d dug herself.
Morning after morning, Eliza sat with her laptop open, scrolling through her to-do list. Agatha had jumped at the chance to do the food, and they’d hired an amazing company that provided full sound-system set-ups to replicate festivals like Woodstock.
The sparkling wine was confirmed, but the biggest problem that remained was the venue.
Nowhere seemed right. Every country house and secluded estate she found either lacked the intimate charm she had in mind, or there was no way it could guarantee the privacy Max and Daisy needed.
‘This is impossible,’ she muttered to herself over a takeaway cup of coffee.
Moments later, her phone buzzed with a text from Daisy. ‘Any luck with venues? Max is getting anxious!’
Shit, it had been three days of searching and she still hadn’t got a short list for them. None of the usual event spaces were quite right.
The image of Stanley’s with the fairy lights exuding just the right amount of rustic elegance and romance kept popping back into her head. There was no way she was going down that route; she couldn’t just recreate the same wedding for Daisy and Max that she’d thrown for Fenella.
‘No,’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘Absolutely not. Nope, that is never going to happen.’
Head in her hands, she glanced up at her buzzing phone. It was Jean Pierre. Another client to please – she seemed to have accumulated a lot of them in a very short space of time.
‘Eliza, ma chérie,’ his accented voice boomed. ‘Henry visited yesterday. The sparkling wine – he promises the finest restaurants by Christmas. Magnifique!’
‘That’s such great news, Jean Pierre!’ Eliza said, genuinely pleased for them. ‘I told you he was good at what he does, even if he is a total arsehole.’
‘Yes, well, sometimes an arsehole is good at business. But Vivi, she misses you terribly. And,’ he hesitated, ‘your Luke, he comes to our vineyard yesterday, looking like, how do you say, a ghost without spirit.’
‘He is not my Luke, Jean Pierre,’ Eliza snapped, wincing at her own tone.
‘Bah!’ Jean Pierre dismissed her protest. ‘He asks many questions about you. If we have heard from you, if you are well. Maybe you are too quick to dismiss. I mean, darling, he is so handsome. Ma chérie, those eyes . . .’
Eliza’s stomach flipped. She pictured Luke, remembering the lake, his cabin, his lips. No, he would undoubtedly remain handsome while she arranged this wedding, and then she could think about whether he was an option of any kind.
‘Jean Pierre, I need your advice. I’m planning a celebrity wedding – it’s all very top secret and I can’t find the right venue. I need somewhere private, magical, away from prying eyes, but romantic and beautiful. Any ideas? I’m totally stumped, and my clients are starting to get a bit tetchy.’
‘But, of course!’ Jean Pierre exclaimed. ‘You must use our vineyard. The old stone barn, the rolling hills, the view of the valley – perfect for romance, no? We have hosted small private events before, but never a wedding. It would be the first time for us, but we would make it amazing.’
Eliza thought about it for a moment. She could remember how awestruck she’d felt driving up through the estate for the first time, the beautiful building, the vistas.
It had a grandeur that Stanley’s lacked, and seeing as no one had ever hosted a wedding there before, it would feel exclusive and unique.
And to give it the flavour Max and Daisy wanted, she could use all the same local suppliers from Fenella’s wedding – so it would feel genuine rather than manufactured.
But did she really want to go back to Farmington, to be that close to Luke? She could already picture Marjorie’s knowing looks, and Dan’s well-meaning interference, but these were also the people who would rally around her to ensure the wedding was a triumph.
‘I don’t know, Jean Pierre,’ Eliza said, pacing around Nancy’s kitchen. ‘Coming back to Farmington so soon, I only just left.’
‘You don’t need to come until the final days,’ Jean Pierre said, his voice softening. ‘Vivi and I, we can handle the preparations. And think of the sparkling! An exclusive, straight from the source. How fabulous is that.’
Eliza laughed, despite herself. ‘You make a compelling case, but I’m too much of a control freak. There is no way I could leave it all to you guys – not that I don’t trust you. of course!’
‘Just consider it, yes? I will send photos. The barn is très magnifique in summer – and with such little time to go, I think you must decide now. And we have perfection for you here.’
After they hung up, Eliza sat staring at her phone, conflicted.
The vineyard would be perfect – secluded, unique, and with Jean Pierre and Vivi overseeing things, she could minimise her time in Farmington until absolutely necessary.
Maybe it was just the solution she needed.
Maybe this wasn’t about her, but about delivering the best event she could for her clients.
So, she texted Daisy: ‘I may have found something extraordinary. A private vineyard on an estate. Intimate, absolutely magical, and there’s never been a wedding thrown there before. Can I show you this week?’
Daisy responded immediately: ‘Yes! It sounds perfect!’
Eliza took a deep breath and called Jean Pierre back. ‘Send those photos. And please don’t tell anyone else I might be coming back. Especially not Luke.’
‘Of course, of course,’ Jean Pierre agreed, though she could hear the disapproval in his voice. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’
Three days later, Eliza stood beside an awestruck Max and Daisy as they wandered through the vineyard.
The afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the rolling hills, which were planted with neat rows of vines.
The old stone barn, with its weathered walls and soaring ceilings, was pretty majestic.
Eliza turned to them and said, ‘Now, visualise the vineyard transformed with thousands of fairy lights, the barn filled with cascading wildflowers, and a sunset ceremony overlooking the vines. It would be spectacular.’
‘Eek!’ squealed Daisy, throwing herself into Max’s arms. ‘This is exactly what we wanted – I can picture it already – the fairy lights strung across those beams, wildflowers everywhere, the sun setting during our vows . . .’
Max nodded, his eyes scanning the space with an artist’s appreciation. ‘It’s perfect. Eliza, you’re a genius.’
Eliza felt a rush of satisfaction. First big solo job, first major win.
This was exactly the reaction she’d hoped for.
‘We can set up the ceremony facing west, so you’ll have that golden light,’ she said, the evening fully taking shape.
‘The reception will be in the barn, and then later we’ll open the doors for dancing under the stars, with cars ready to whisk you and your guests away at the end of the night. ’
‘It’s magical,’ Daisy sighed, turning in a slow circle. ‘And no one would ever think to look for us here.’
‘That’s the beauty of it,’ Eliza agreed, carefully avoiding Jean Pierre’s knowing gaze.
She had managed to time their visit perfectly, arriving just after lunch when she knew Luke would be busy at Stanley’s, and planning to leave before sunset.
So far, she’d successfully avoided running into anyone from the village.
She had hoped to get in and get out without being noticed.
As Max and Daisy wandered ahead of her toward the house with Jean Pierre, Vivi sidled up beside Eliza, studying her face. ‘I just have to look at you to know you’re not happy in London. Your eyes have lost their shine. You need the countryside!’
Eliza forced a laugh. ‘My eyes are fine. I’m just tired – but I’m really enjoying it. And anyway, Vivi, I’ve barely been gone!’
‘Mmm,’ Vivi hummed sceptically. Studying her face with uncomfortably perceptive eyes, she continued, ‘You know, Luke is always asking after you, Eliza. You’re crazy to just run from someone who looks like that. He is a good man – don’t you think you’re being a little too impulsive?’
Eliza’s heart twisted. ‘Vivi, please, I’m here for work, not for Luke. I don’t want to spend the next few weeks thinking that holding the wedding here was a mistake, so can we please not talk about him? And anyway, as we all know, it has to be about more than just looks, right?’
‘Of course,’ Vivi nodded, her expression knowing.
‘But, Eliza, running away doesn’t make it go away – sometimes you have to hit these things head on.
I mean, you know the story of when Jean Pierre and I met – that was hardly a walk in the park.
I was living in Texas; moving to the UK was never part of my plan.
But I had to trust in my gut, that together we could make it work. ’
Eliza felt a flush of guilt. ‘I’m sorry, Vivi. I just . . . it’s complicated.’
‘Pah! Men are always complicated. It’s not a fairy tale, but it works. Sometimes the things you least expect are the things that are meant to be.’
‘What do you expect me to do, Vivi?’ Eliza asked. ‘He lied to me. Would you just forgive that? When I came here, it wasn’t to meet the love of my life, it was to have a break from relationships. So maybe Luke was only ever meant to be my sexy countryside fling.’
‘Look, yes, he made a mistake,’ Vivi said. ‘But it all happened before he even met you! And I hate to say it, but you made a mistake, too, running away in the middle of his sister’s wedding. Maybe you guys just need to have a chat, clear the air, even if it means you end up as friends.’