Chapter Forty-Seven
In the lift she studied her reflection. Cat had loaned her a little black dress with a white Chanel-style collar and net ruched sleeves, which she wore with tights and black Ted Baker stilettos she had borrowed from Cassie, who was fortunately the same petite shoe size as Emme.
Her hair was sleek, the top of her chestnut bob clipped out of her face with a black velvet bow, her skin and lips peachy and clear.
She looked like staff, but she felt just about sexy enough that if Tristan were to be there, he would notice.
Even if she couldn’t compete with his girlfriend.
The lift wasn’t moving and Emme couldn’t see a single button to press inside it. No door closing sign. No internal button that read Edelweiss. She poked her head out and looked in the lobby again, and felt rather silly, returning inside to just her reflection looking around for clues.
A man entered the lobby with crates of champagne flutes for the caterers, walked into the lift and nodded at Emme, still standing bewildered.
‘Up,’ he said in a gruff voice, and the doors glided shut.
Oh, Emme thought, realising she still had a lot to learn.
The lift doors opened onto a luxurious landing and the man indicated for Emme to leave first. She headed to a large modern door, which a maid opened immediately. Her outfit wasn’t that dissimilar to Emme’s, although she wore a white frilled pinafore over the top of her more staid black dress.
‘Glasses!’ said the man over Emme’s shoulder.
‘And I’m here to help Catalina,’ Emme said.
‘Go through to the kitchen.’
Emme entered the Kivvi chalet and looked around in awe. A baby Steinway sat on a Persian rug that looked faded but probably cost a fortune, while the walnut wood of the high-vaulted ceiling let the Swarovski chandeliers shine.
It was like the Harrington home on steroids.
Vintage mid-century French armchairs sat atop plush cream rugs while sturdy timber and steel hardware fused the traditional with the modern.
No wonder Lexy was so excited about attending this party.
This was no red-and-white-checked cutesy chalet; no clichéd antlers on the wall.
It was the most luxurious home Emme had ever stepped in, and considering she’d been living at the Harringtons’ for weeks now, that was saying something.
‘Whoah,’ she whispered to herself, as she headed to the kitchen, which was buzzing with Cat shouting orders. Tiago was wearing a shirt and a bow tie, which Emme playfully tugged on each side. ‘Looking sharp, Tiago,’ she said, straightening it. His dimples sank as he smiled.
‘Why thank you, ma’am,’ he said, as if Emme herself were the Queen.
Lydia from The Cheeky Blinders was also on hand to help, in a white shirt and short black skirt, her blonde fringe dipping into her soulful eyes, along with the Kivvis’ head butler Gerard, who was getting very sniffy about the extra staff milling around his territory.
Cat looked up.
‘Wow,’ she said, appraising Emme. ‘My dress looks better on you!’
Emme gave a quick and playful curtsey while Tiago laughed and Gerard scowled.
‘What can I do?’
Emme examined the rows and rows of beautifully presented canapés on baking trays covering every marble surface in the vast kitchen.
‘Help me decant those three trays onto these slate boards please. Keeping uniformity in size and alignment. We have thirty minutes to go.’
‘Sure thing.’
‘T, do you have the napkins?’
‘Sí jefa!’ he saluted. He had counted out stacks of forty little black square napkins and put them in piles on the worktop.
‘The order of service is up on my chalk board there – that’s the order of rotation,’ Cat directed. ‘Emme and Tiago, if you take the canapés out in rounds in that order, and keep coming back for more before you move onto the next canapé. It’s very important you stick to that order.’
‘Yes chef!’ Emme said with a smile.
‘Lydia and Gerard are already on drinks. Gerard, the frozen ice balls need to be left to the last moment, yes?’
He nodded quietly.
‘Damn rosemary slowed down the freezing process,’ Cat lamented.
‘But they’re so beautiful!’ Lydia said, taking one out. A perfect sphere with a sprig of rosemary and a redcurrant inside each ball made for festive ice cubes; raspberries set in jelly and frozen would be going into the champagne.
‘Put it back!’ Cat said, half angry, half flirtatious, as Lydia returned the ice ball to the freezer. ‘We need all the ice we can get. It’s going to be busy.’
Tiago, Lydia and Emme exchanged mischievous smiles while Gerard continued to line up his glasses: champagne flutes, martini glasses, coupé cups, whisky tumblers and highballs for the children and the teetotallers.
Emme had an excited feeling about today.
At 2pm the party was under way, with Tiago and Emme circulating the canapés amongst the best and brightest of Kristalldorf’s high society. The Kochs, the Sommars, the Herwegs.
‘Hej!’ said a cheery man as he sauntered into the kitchen. ‘This all smells wonderful Catalina. You’ve excelled yourself.’
Aapo Kivvi walked with the elegance of a dancer and had the charm of his mother.
‘Thank you,’ Cat said, opening the oven to a roll of steam. ‘Aapo, this is my friend Emme, she’s helping out.’
Aapo walked over to Emme, who was placing chicken Caesar sourdoughs at jaunty angles in neat rows and held out a hand. He seemed rather formal.
‘Oh,’ Emme wiped her hands on a tea towel and shook Aapo’s soft hand.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said.
His formality fused with friendliness made Emme laugh.
‘Pleased to meet you too,’ Emme said, then got back to her task.
‘Anything I can help with?’ he asked Cat. As busy as she was, she would never have said yes.
‘All in hand, thank you Aapo, you enjoy the party. Find your sister and tell her I made her the macarons she loves …’
‘Well that is news I would love to deliver,’ Aapo said with a smile, as he bowed out and went in search of Stella.
The Harringtons arrived soon after 2pm, and Bill quickly got lost in conversation by the piano with Oliver Koch while Lexy sought out Emme in the kitchen to see some behind-the-scenes action.
‘Here you are!’ Lexy almost sang, as if she were Ginger Rogers making a grand entrance.
Emme looked up. Lexy’s Hollywood red waves and lips were polished – her glam squad had done a good job – and Emme felt pleased for her that she was where she wanted to be, although her presence made Emme feel flustered. Still, she did her best to stay polite.
‘Lexy, this is my friend Cat,’ Emme said, as she picked up the next rotation of canapés. ‘She’s the one responsible for the amazing food today.’ Emme smiled, and raised a platter. ‘Chicharrónes with cumin, chipotle and red cabbage,’ she said proudly. ‘Would you like one?’
Lexy waved a hand and gestured to her figure-hugging dress that accentuated both her tiny waist and her rounded bottom.
Cat didn’t have time for chitchat, especially with anyone who didn’t appreciate the artistry of her food, so she kept her head down and barked orders.
‘Chicharrónes; salt hake, vamos!’ she called, and Emme took her cue to leave.
Lexy seemed to resent Cat’s authoritative tone over her employee, but sauntered out of the kitchen and bumped into Formula 1 driver Oscar Goodall and his model girlfriend Touran, whose handbag Lexy fawned over at first sight.
‘That is divine!’ she simpered. ‘You must let me stroke it!’
Emme and Tiago rotated in opposite directions with slate platters, Emme often stalked by Bella for canapés and hugs, and she kept a firm overview of every person she saw walk in through the grand front door.
She noticed a bald man with his son and two daughters in matching dresses.
She noticed a man who looked like an aging rock star, with a skinny scarf and a beautiful wife.
She recognised a Bollywood couple she had seen walking the high street hand in hand – the wife had green eyes and emerald earrings that weighed down her earlobes.
She recognised minor royals from their blue eyes and Hapsburg chins.
She recognised Swedish pop star Frida Alm.
She thought she saw David Hasselhoff and Elton John (not together) but she couldn’t see Tristan Du Kok.
As Emme weaved through the guests, offering food but keeping as low a profile as possible, she saw Vivian Steinherr enter on her father’s arm.
She looked incredible in a black velvet suit that draped off her languid body.
How could Emme, serving canapés in a borrowed Chanel rip-off dress, compete with Vivian Steinherr?
Of course Tristan wouldn’t have reached out to her after their passionate, animal instincts took over in the gondola.
He was an animal. And this beautiful woman was his girlfriend.
She shook her head and continued on her rounds, noticing a handsome man with salt and pepper hair following closely behind Walter and Vivian. Swedish pop star Frida Alm made a beeline for him.
‘Lysander Steinherr, as I live and breathe!’ she said, outstretching her arms.
‘Frida, my darling,’ he said in an American accent, as he squeezed her arm and kissed each cheek.
‘Canapé?’ Emme proffered, but they both ignored her.
‘Do my eyes deceive me?’ Viktor Kivvi said, clutching a glass of Japanese whisky on the rocks. ‘Walter …’ He couldn’t bring himself to shake the man’s hand, but he gave a cautious smile. ‘Welcome to my home.’
‘Viktor,’ Walter said, nodding politely.
Viktor looked almost thrown. Ever since he had moved to Kristalldorf and started the Seven Summits project, it had been met with obstacles, red tape and planning bureaucracy, all underpinned by Walter Steinherr, whose own projects and buildings seemed to rise seamlessly out of the ground.
What was the old curmudgeon up to, finally attending the Kivvi Christingle?
Walter looked at Lumi who shook her hair and gave her most gracious smile.