Holly #2
Holly groaned inwardly. She’d completely forgotten he was still working in the back, in her library. “It’s okay, Ezra,” she told him. “We’re having a meeting, but you can use the sink.”
“An emergency meeting,” Linus emphasized.
Ezra looked unsure, but scooted quickly around the crowd to the back sink.
“What’s the second problem?” Greta wanted to know, steering them back on topic. “We’re running out of time if I need to add a lobster dinner on top of a cocktail party.” Her cheeks were already starting to turn lobster red.
“I’m not going to ask you to do both,” Holly assured her.
The screen door squeaked open and slapped shut again with what must be more deliveries. Holly rubbed her temples. It was hard enough to think on her feet under pressure without the added interruptions of both doors opening and closing.
“Our second problem is that the Suttons are expecting a fun off-site expedition tonight. A clambake is a lively affair. You’ve got the fire going, the chefs cooking, music, the sunset, the ocean. That’s not an option now.”
Linus groaned. “We’ve got a shuttle coming and nowhere to take our guests.”
“What about one of the local beaches?” Oliver asked. “I could run over and set up a volleyball net or maybe some cornhole…”
“Cornhole?” Linus looked like he’d been slapped. “Why don’t we just rent out the bowling alley?”
“What ideas do you have?” Greta snapped, coming to Oliver’s defense, even though they all knew Linus was right.
At that point everyone began to argue and Holly lost control. They were getting nowhere.
“I have an idea!” A hand went up behind Oliver’s tall frame. Holly knew that voice.
Ben stepped out from behind Oliver. “Hey, everyone. I know I’m just the oyster guy, but I think I can help.”
Holly ignored Linus’s not-so-gentle elbow to her arm. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but we’re kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “Sounds like a crisis.”
“It’s really not,” Holly told him.
“Yes, it is!” Linus interjected. It was her turn to elbow Linus.
“Well, if you’ve got it under control…” Ben said, turning for the door.
Holly could feel all eyes fall on her, hard.
It was not exactly a crisis. Plus Ben was not staff. And she really did not appreciate his sticking his nose in. But—any control she’d had that morning had already flown out the very door Ben was poised to walk through.
“Wait,” she cried. Everyone did an about-face to Ben.
His smile when he turned around almost killed her. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said. “Sounds like you’re in need of a field trip for your incoming guests?”
“A little more elevated than a field trip,” Holly said.
“My outfit, Oyster Boys, has just branched into private events at our shellfish farm.”
“What kind of events?” Holly did not remember reading anything about that in the magazine feature.
“We offer private tours, tastings, and wine pairings to guests.”
“Unique,” Greta chimed in. “And very Chatham.”
Ben’s gaze fell on Holly. “I’ll be honest, it’s a new addition to our operations.
But so far people love it. We take them by boat to the oyster beds, where we educate them about what it takes to cultivate and process shellfish in a sustainable way.
Then we end in the tasting room with shucked oysters and beverages. ”
“Wow. You can’t get any fresher than that,” Paul said. “Or any more local.”
“But,” Ben cautioned, “I can only take twenty people.”
“Destiny!” Linus cried. “We have twenty people.”
Once more Ben’s gaze fixed on Holly’s. “Well, how about that.”
It was decided, even if it might end up being the worst idea ever.
Holly did not relish outsourcing her curated event for the evening, even if it was to someone she knew as well as Ben.
Unlike Paige’s clambakes, Holly had no idea what kind of product Oyster Boys offered.
She’d never even vetted their site. The Suttons were discerning guests; oyster farming was physical and messy and put you out in the elements.
Oh, how quickly this could go sideways! But they were out of time and ideas.
Greta took the reins from there. “Let’s reverse course for the evening. Instead of hosting a cocktail hour here and dinner off-site, let’s send the guests to Oyster Boys for their tour and tasting first. Afterward, they’ll shuttle back here for a lobster dinner.”
“Are you sure you can pull off a dinner this size?” Holly asked. She really did not like putting her chef in this position.
Greta crossed her arms, all business. “If we turn it into an old-fashioned lobster boil, I think we can. I may need a few more lobster pots, though. And propane burners.”
“I’ve got lobster pots.” Holly had forgotten all about Ezra. He was still standing at the prep sink, drying his brushes. “A whole bunch of them, actually.”
“Thanks, Ezra,” Holly said, “but I can run into Chatham Hardware.”
“What for? They cost a fortune. And I’ve got at least ten.” He looked to Greta. “I’ll run home and grab them now.”
Questions buzzed through Holly’s mind like summer flies. What exactly would Ben be showing the Suttons on their tour? What attire should they wear and would they even have it? And what was Ezra doing with ten lobster pots?
Ben, who’d not left yet, pulled her aside in the kitchen. “I know this is all last minute, but I want you to know you can trust me. I’ll take good care of your clients.”
He put a reassuring hand on her arm, which only flustered her further.
“These aren’t just any tourists, Ben. And it’s their daughter’s wedding weekend. They’re of the yacht set, not the Boston Whaler set, understand?”
To her consternation, this only made him laugh. “It sounds like they could’ve gone anywhere in the world to celebrate their special weekend, and yet they’ve chosen the Cape?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“Then let’s give them the Cape.”
After that, it was out of the frying pan and into the fire. Ben took off to the docks to prepare for the Suttons. Ezra disappeared with his paint supplies and returned with a carload of lobster pots. By then Holly had called Paige, and the canceled clambake seafood was on its way over.
“Is it possible your high school boyfriend helped save the night?” Linus asked. They were standing on the front porch as the first of the Sutton party in a behemoth Defender pulled into the clamshell drive.
“Just smile and nod,” Holly told him, “until the last damn lobster is boiled.”