17. Gemma
GEMMA
I’d spent more time on my feet than at any wedding I’d ever planned, and the day wasn’t half over. Yet the exhilaration I felt was like no other event I’d been a part of.
Was it because First Pour was my idea rather than something I was hired for?
Granted, it was intended to promote the Wicked Winemakers’ Ball, but it was so much more than that.
Tonight would be the first time the Russian River Valley gathered in a place named for a man I knew they all greatly admired.
My hope was that, after they witnessed firsthand how well things were going here, their respect for Bas would grow too.
Sitting at my desk, I opened the notebook I’d created specifically for the ball and reviewed my game plan.
First, I needed bachelors for the auction.
At the Paso Robles ball, it was the biggest moneymaker.
Second, I needed to supplement it with additional silent auction items. Third, I wanted more sponsorships.
Bas had asked me to revise the contract with Whitmore so it stated they would cover all the costs.
It was both generous and designed to ease my worry.
However, a single donor on that level didn’t bode well for future events.
And, given I was also employed by Whitmore, would everyone think the fundraiser was a one-off event?
More wineries sponsoring it, meant more community support. It was imperative I make that happen, and tonight was my best opportunity. Even if no contracts were signed, planting the seed for a follow-up next week would be the opening for a pitch I wouldn’t get otherwise.
The bachelor list was a different problem. Kick and Rand were handling that, and it was my job to stay out of it. I understood the reasoning, and I’d agreed to it. It didn’t make the idea of standing on the sidelines while other people filled my board any easier to swallow.
Camille knocked on the open door and set a plate on my desk.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I did if I want you staying upright until the end of the night.” She nodded at the plate. “That’s lamb shoulder that’s been over the coals since last night.”
It was pulled and piled on grilled flatbread with salsa verde and shaved pecorino, and I ate all of it before I remembered I’d meant to save room to taste what the other teams brought.
“It’s fabulous, truly.”
“Come see the rest.”
We went out to the main room, where her sous chefs were already behind their stations in the Grove, and she walked me down the line.
Along with the lamb, there was a seafood bar with local halibut crudo and oysters shucked to order with a mignonette and nothing else.
Their vegetables station offered asparagus with a fried duck egg, and fava beans with English peas and ricotta.
The bread they were serving was sourdough that had come out of the restaurant’s wood oven that morning, and I would have eaten at least two helpings of the blood orange and almond cake if I wasn’t already so full.
When there was a lull in the setup, I walked the floor on my own. The Grove, closest to the entrance, had its lanterns positioned so the light came up through the branches instead of down from the ceiling. It was even more beautiful than the drawings.
After Dark was to the left and Grand Cru to the right, and nothing marked where one ended and the next began. The black dahlias hadn’t been on Thalia’s drawing, but I loved them.
Grand Cru had more mirrors than Wallace had drawn, and the candelabra were taller. It was the room every bride I’d ever worked with had asked for and none of them could afford.
“Hey, beautiful.” Bas put his arm around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. “It looks better than the drawings.”
I leaned against him. “Doesn’t it?”
He spun me in his arms. “Always.”
“I’m sure I’m gorgeous right now.”
“I especially like the dirt smudge on your face.”
I rubbed my cheek, then caught his smirk. “You’re teasing.”
“Three days with my siblings, and I can’t help it.” He looked behind me. “Whatever that is, I want it.”
I turned to see the After Dark team setting up their food stations. “You can taste test for me if you’re hungry.”
His eyes lit up. “I haven’t eaten all day, so yes, please. What have they got?”
I found their page on my clipboard. “Black mushroom tart with crème fra?che, beet and blood orange salad with a black walnut and red-wine reduction, braised short ribs with purple potato purée, and dark-chocolate pot de crème.”
One of their cooks handed him a fork with a bite of the short rib on it before I finished reading, and he closed his eyes.
“Damn. Can we use these caterers for all our events?”
“They might get pricey, but for some of the higher-end bookings, they’d be perfect.”
Bry approached with her camera lowered. “Wait until you see the footage I got. I can’t point the camera anywhere in here and get a bad shot.”
“I was about to serve as a taste-tester if you want to come with me,” Bas said.
“Actually, Brylee, if you wanted to check in with the Grand Cru team, they should be here soon.”
When I showed her their menu, she grabbed my arm. “Dungeness crab, white asparagus, abalone with spring peas, and lemon posset?”
“What’s posset?” Bas asked.
Brylee shrugged, and they both turned to me.
“Custard without eggs, served in a hollowed-out lemon. Theirs has Chantilly cream, blueberries, raspberries, and mint.”
“This is fancier than anything in New York,” Brylee commented.
“Nobody in New York would agree with you, but no one here held back tonight.”
Brylee rubbed her stomach. “I’m starving now. When will they be here?”
“Maybe thirty minutes.”
“I can’t wait that long. You take After Dark, Bas. I’m going to find the crab.”
He shook his head when she walked away. “Such a brat.”
“But you love her.”
He pulled me against him. “She’s all right, but you, you’re—”
“Gemma, can I get a hand over here?” Kick called out to me.
“Sorry. Later?” I kissed him and went to help Kick with the laptop for the slideshow.
Brylee had her camera up again. The vendors had signed waivers, and Izzy had put a line about filming on every invitation.
I read through Kick’s notes while he loaded the slideshow. “This is good, Kick.”
“Thanks, and by the time the night is over, I’d be willing to bet your bachelor sign-up board is full.”
“I still have to set it up.”
I went into the office for the poster board Arlow had picked up at the printer and carried it and the easel out.
“Let me take that.” The man reaching for the easel was Rand Whelan. Wolf, to nearly everyone in the room. I’d seen him once, from a distance, leaning against his Jaguar.
He set it where I pointed, and I put the board on it, then we introduced ourselves.
“My grandmother is looking forward to seeing you tonight,” he said. “She hasn’t stopped talking about you since the night you met.”
“Everybody likes her better than you.” Bas clapped him on the shoulder.
“There he is. I thought maybe you’d left the country.” Rand turned to me. “Do you know how hard this guy is to get hold of?”
“I remember it taking him three weeks to get back to me earlier this year.” I winked at Bas.
“Yeah, but now, you hear from me at least once a day.”
“That’s not what I heard. According to my—”
“That’s enough,” said Bas. “Let’s leave Gemma alone so she can get her work done.”
“Hey, wait. When do you want my name on the board?” Rand asked when Bas tried to pull him away.
“Now, if you’d like.”
“And waste the moment? I’ll wait until there’s an audience.”
“He doesn’t do anything without one,” Bas muttered.
So this was who he’d lined up to kick it off. I should have guessed.
I waved behind me as I left.
I returned to the cottage, showered, then changed into a dressy black jumpsuit I’d splurged on.
I’d worn the same dress to every event I’d attended with Bas, and I’d bought this one for tonight.
It had a V-neck and a bodice that twisted at the waist, fitted but made of jersey, so it moved.
My favorite thing about it was the sleeves, mesh from shoulder to wrist with a beaded-leaf pattern. The wide legs hid my flats.
Bas knocked while I was putting on my earrings.
He’d changed into charcoal chinos and a matching dress shirt with the sleeves already pushed up.
He made it a few steps into the room and stopped.
“Wow,” he said, looking me up and down. “Can we forgo this whole thing, hop on a jet, and head somewhere warm?”
“Wearing this?”
“Only until we get there.”
I stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “Maybe after the ball.”
“That’s months.” He stuck his lower lip out.
“It’ll be here before you know it.” I kissed his cheek a second time. “I need to open the doors. Five minutes.”
Edna and a man I hadn’t met came in the minute the guests gained access.
“I wanted to be the first to arrive.” She took my hand the way she had at the Estuary. “You and I need to schedule a lunch date.”
“Yes.”
She took a card with the name of where she wanted to meet out of her clutch and gave to me. “Will Wednesday work for you?”
“It will.”
“One o’clock.”
“At the Aldercroft?” I said, looking at the logo on what she’d handed me. I knew the place by reputation. Lunch there with Edna Whelan would put me in front of more of the valley’s money in an hour than I could get to on my own all year.
She winked. “If that’s okay with you. It’s the oldest private club in the valley. Until the seventies, women couldn’t be members.”
“My Edna changed that. I’m Clint, her husband.”
“Gemma Engel. Welcome.”
Edna glanced behind her. “There’s a crowd forming. We should take our seats.” Then she looked past me into the hall and stopped. “Oh, my.”
“I can’t take credit for it, but once the presentation begins, I’ll introduce the people who can.”
“I told you she was too modest, Clint,” she commented as they walked in.
“Gram, wait!” Rand came in and rushed past me. “Hey, Gemma. I don’t know how you got Bas to agree to any of this. Sorry to run, but I told them to wait for me.” He laughed. “As if they’d listen. Where should they sit?”