Chapter 12
Caleb
Yes, chef.
Brooke walks in silence behind me, where I hope she can’t see me adjust myself as I lead us through the hall that runs behind the kitchen and market.
Christ.
We get to Dad’s office at the end of the hall. The sign on the door reads Paul Foley, but I take the seat behind the large desk.
Brooke sits in the old chair across from me. Her cheeks aren’t red anymore. Only a little pink, and it’s not helping me forget those words.
“I’m sorry it’s such a mess here. Dad isn’t exactly known for his organizational skills.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” she says, taking stock of the mess. She’s lying.
I laugh. “I can tell you’re getting all squirrely.”
“Squirrely?”
“Yeah, like your brain is going all over the place. You’re having trouble focusing, looking at all the different piles. You want to grab a trash can and start purging and organizing. But you’re worried that I’ll think you’re crazy…is your eye twitching?”
Her jaw drops at my observation. “No,” she says, touching the corner of her eye.
“I’m working to get it in better shape, but it’s baby steps. It’ll be a while before he can handle color-coding.”
“I’m happy to help when he’s ready.” She clasps her hands together and sets them in her lap. “As much as I’d love to chat about the joys of organization, I need to be quick.”
“Right down to business. I like it.”
“Har har. I mean it, I’ve got a rehearsal at four and still need to figure out how to get a hundred Happy Meals for tomorrow night.”
I shake my head. “Brooke, if you need a last-minute caterer that badly, just ask. Don’t feed those poor guests fast food.
” I thought Spencer Soirees was a luxury wedding planning agency.
Fast food for wedding guests? I hate this idea.
Years of culinary school and work in a kitchen will ruin fast food for you pretty quickly.
“Don’t you dare knock the Golden Arches, okay?” she says. “There is a time and place for it, and one of those times is at the end of a five-hour open bar. Not to mention, their fountain Diet Coke is superior to all other Diet Cokes.”
Is there some kind of Diet Coke ranking system I don’t know about?
“And I don’t need a caterer tomorrow. If I did, you wouldn’t be my first call.”
I plunge an invisible knife into my chest. “Way harsh, babe.”
She rolls those blue eyes a little dramatically and laughs. Something tugs at my chest. Her eyerolls are getting more playful.
“I need fast food because the groom wants to surprise everyone with Happy Meals on the buses back to the hotel. Don’t you think that’s a great idea?
Imagine how happy you’d be if you were drunk at the end of a wedding and the smell of burgers and fries welcomed you onto the bus!
I need to cobble together more meals somehow.
” She’s downright giddy about this, talking fast and moving her hands.
Less polished than she usually is. Like it excites her in a way other things don’t. It’s adorable.
“Not a bad way to end the night.” I think about the times I’ve been a wedding guest. How even after dozens of hors d’oeuvres and a three-course dinner, you’re still starving at the end of the night. Might be all the alcohol and dancing. “No luck, huh?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve called every location in a thirty-mile radius and none of them can handle the entire order.
A few locations can do some, so I need to find a few more and figure out the logistics of picking them all up.
Our staff is tapped this weekend, but I could pay the interns or maybe offer your guy out front another twenty bucks… ”
Or I could help her. I rest my chin on my hand and watch her with amusement.
“Caleb.” She looks at me skeptically. “What are you thinking?”
I’m thinking Dad’s going to be pissed at what I’m about to do.
“Hear me out before you say no, okay?” She probably won’t, but she nods anyway. “What if I made something—”
“I can’t ask you to—”
“Uh-uh, you said you’d hear me out.”
“Fine,” she says, shaking her head with another playful eye roll, making me feel the things I’m trying so hard not to. She crosses her arms and leans back in the chair.
“We’ve got a light weekend and I’m already bored with the catering menu. I could do brown bag burgers and fries. All greasy and salty. Perfect late-night food.” The wheels in my head are turning. “If it works, I can start offering the same kind of to-go items at weddings we’re already catering.”
She scoffs. “My mom will kill me if she finds out I’m helping you and your dad make more money.” I believe her. Judy is ruthless. “And my clients have already gone way over budget.”
“It’ll only cost them whatever they were planning to pay.” This is going to cost me at least triple that. Mom won’t be thrilled when she does the books. But it’s hard for me to say no to Brooke Spencer. Especially when her blue eyes are sparkling with excitement like they are right now.
“Are you sure? That’s a lot to ask…though for the record I didn’t ask. You offered.”
Am I sure? I don’t need to help her in order to put the idea on the menu. We have one wedding to work on together and that’s it. We don’t have to work together any more than that. But despite what my head says, something else is saying I’m sure.
“I’m sure. And the record will state that I offered”
She releases a breath and smiles. “Okay.”
“Fantastic! Now we have plenty of time to go over the deck together.”
Brooke pulls out her iPad and walks me through the presentation.