Chapter 39
Grace
I didn’t blame Monica for looking alarmed when the doctor explained the procedure. If somebody said they wanted to stop my heart and start it again, I’d have been alarmed too. But Dr. Pringle assured her it was a straightforward procedure, describing it, in layman’s terms, as “a kind of cardiac reboot,” the hope being when Monica’s heart started beating again it would return to a normal rhythm.
Monica was hesitant, but with Bob’s encouragement and the doctor’s promise that they would absolutely, definitely, without question be able to restart her heart, she agreed to undergo the procedure.
It worked! Monica was under anesthesia for less than ten minutes and when she woke, her heart was beating normally and she already felt much better, so much so that she felt sure she could handle the catering for the Dogmother’s Ball. But Dr. Pringle was having none of that and neither were we.
“Monica,” I said, “you heard the doctor. If you want to prevent another episode, you’ve got to rest!”
“And I promise I will,” Monica said. “After the ball.”
Bob leaned down and stopped her protests with a kiss. “We’ve got this,” he said firmly.
After much moaning and groaning, Monica agreed to close the restaurant for ten days, and then allow Bob to drive her, the kids, and Desmond to Lincoln City the day after the ball. Bob would stay for the whole week to make sure Monica really was resting. Once that was settled, we all got to work.
Nan and I immediately got on the phone to call customers with current reservations at Café Allegro, then explain what happened and help them either reschedule or make reservations at other good restaurants. The outpouring of concern and good wishes they asked us to convey was really touching. We only had two complaints out of sixty-six customers, and so many people sent flowers to the hospital that when Monica went home on Friday the nurse had to find a cart to get all her presents down to Bob’s car.
Ben’s abrupt departure had definitely complicated things, but the response of the remaining staff made their devotion to Monica obvious. As soon as Monica woke up and Alex knew the procedure was a success, he asked Luke to drive him to the restaurant so he could speak to the staff.
“You should have seen him,” Luke reported when he came over to Nan’s house a few hours later, filling me in while Zoe and I dipped dog biscuits in glue and silver glitter, creating decorations for the flower arrangements. “Alex was calm, and mature, explaining the situation and asking for everybody’s help while making it clear that he was running the show. That boy is a real leader.
“When he finished talking, the whole team sat down together and came up with a plan. They’re going to make it a buffet instead of sit-down service, serve cold poached salmon instead of hot, carve a beef tenderloin in the line, and serve an eggplant parmesan casserole instead of preparing individual portions, and replace the hot vegetables and potatoes with salads they can make ahead and serve cold.
“Oh, and instead of chocolate lava cake, they’re going to set up a make your own sundae bar. Nan said she knows a great new ice-cream shop in Southeast that wants to get the word out and will give us a discount.”
“That sounds like it will make everything a lot simpler,” I said. “I just checked the weather report—should be clear, sunny, and in the low eighties on Saturday—so cold foods will be nicer anyway. And what’s not to love about making your own ice-cream sundae? Where’s Alex now?”
“I left him at the restaurant,” Luke said. “He and Angie, one of the line cooks, wanted to get to work right away. When I left they were making a cold sesame noodle salad and Angie was calling Alex ‘chef.’ ” Luke grinned. “They’ve got things under control. Now, what can I do to help?”
For the next forty-eight hours that pretty much summed up the attitude of everyone in our group—what can I do to help?
Nan, who had finally been released from her sling, finished up the last of the trimming and gardening, planted four flats of beautiful purple and yellow pansies along the front walk, and filled two hundred white paper bags with kitty litter and votive candles to make luminarias. Zoe and I made twenty flower arrangements for the tables, spraying twenty plastic Halloween pumpkins with silver spray paint, then filling them with white daisies, pink carnations, and the silver glittered dog biscuits we’d wired onto floral picks, and topping each one off with a “Fairy Dogmother’s Wand” with a sparkly silver star and hot-pink ribbon streamers. They looked pretty cool, if I do say so myself.
Alex was at the restaurant supervising the food preparation, assisted by the entire kitchen and waitstaff. It was all hands on deck.
Malcolm and Luke got out ladders and strung thousands of fairy lights on anything that didn’t move—trees, bushes, even Nan’s chicken coop. After the rental company arrived and set up the tent and dance floor, they strung up even more lights, winding them around the tent poles and over the dance floor. Bob, who spent the morning at the hospital to make sure Monica was doing all right, came over to help in the afternoon. However, he spent so much time fielding calls from Monica, who was trying to micromanage everything remotely, that we sent him back to the hospital to confiscate her phone and keep her calm.
On Saturday morning, a dozen volunteers from Rainbow Gate showed up to help with the setup at almost the same time that the restaurant crew, led by Alex and Angie, descended en masse and took over Nan’s kitchen. It was organized chaos—everybody moving fast, working fast, talking fast, racing the clock—but chaos just the same. And there was still so much to be done.
When I got into my car at five o’clock, rushing home to change into my costume, the ice cream still hadn’t arrived, the water goblets had spots, a heap of mulch was still sitting in the middle of Nan’s driveway, and Luke and Malcolm were still in the backyard, muttering and cursing because every time they tried to turn on the fairy lights, they blew out the breakers.
“Maisie,” I said, glancing into the backseat, “I don’t mean to sound negative, but there is no way in the world they’re going to be ready by seven.”
Two hours later, I took it back.
* * *
“Wow,” I said, turning the corner onto Nan’s street. “Maisie, are you seeing this?” I asked, calling over the back of the seat. Maisie reared onto her hind legs, put her paws on the window, and yipped. “Nan’s house looks like something out of a magazine.”
The newly washed windows sparkled. The flowerbeds, burgeoning with mounds of freshly planted pansies, showed nary a weed or stray blade of grass. And the two hundred luminarias, lit and lined up along the curb and driveway at two-foot intervals, cast a soft, magical glow over everything. It was about as close to Cinderella’s castle as you could find in Portland, Oregon.
If the front of the house was beautiful, the garden was breathtaking. The thousands of white lights that Malcolm and Luke had sweated, fussed, and cursed over turned Nan’s garden into a fairyland, a charmed kingdom populated by costumed people and pets.
There were any number of kings and queens, as well as knights and fairies and sprites. I counted four dinosaurs and two unicorns. There were also cheerleaders, superheroes, and various Star Wars characters. A lanky greyhound wearing a white tunic and a pair of braided Princess Leia earmuffs was one of my favorites. But I also liked Peter Pan, who was accompanied by Princess Tiger Lily, a spaniel wearing a buckskin skirt and feather headdress, and Heidi, in her dirndl and blond braids, who strolled across the grass with a St. Bernard, simply clad in his natural fur and a collar with a little wooden beer barrel.
Dinner wouldn’t be served until eight, so people were milling around the garden, talking and taking selfies, nibbling on appetizers and sipping glasses of champagne or sparkling cider as they checked out each other’s costumes. Everyone had been handed a ballot upon entering. After dinner they would be collected and tallied to determine the winners of the costume contest. Judging from the way people were oohing and cooing over Dorothy, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, Scarecrow, and Toto, it looked like Nan, Malcolm, and company were the team to beat.
A passing waiter with a tray of home-baked dog biscuits stopped to ask if Maisie would prefer chicken or beef. I broke a beef biscuit into Maisie-sized bites and started feeding them to her when the blue silk drawstring bag on my wrist started to vibrate. I tossed the last piece of biscuit onto the grass, then reached into the bag and took out my phone.
“Monica? Why are you calling? Where’s Bob?”
“He’s in the bathroom,” she whispered. “I’ve only got a minute before he comes back. How is everything? Did you try any of the appetizers? The crab cakes. Are they crispy? Do they have enough crab?”
“Monica. Hang up and go back to bed. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“Resting,” she huffed. “Do you know how boring that is? Now, quick—tell me about the gorgonzola puffs. Are they puffy enough? Because sometimes, if you add too much cheese, they turn out gooey.”
A man emerged from the shadows. Maisie yipped, ran toward him, then started jumping and pawing at his leg.
“Sorry, Monica, have to go. I just spotted a handsome prince.”
“What? Wait! Grace, just tell me about the crab—”
I hung up and slipped the phone back into my purse. Luke bent down, scooped Maisie up with one arm, and used the other to encircle my waist and pull me close for a long, lingering, tender, and utterly delicious kiss.
“Oh my,” I murmured when he released me at last. “Maybe I should have come as Snow White instead. That kiss definitely would have broken the spell.”
Luke took a step back and made a show of looking me up and down. “Mmmm . . . I think I like you better this way. But I can’t be sure until I get the whole effect.”
Laughing, I took two more steps back and spun in a circle. The layers of sapphire chiffon lifted and fluttered in the soft summer air.
“I like that dress,” Luke said, appreciation evident in his eyes. “You know why?”
“It moves?”
“Exactly.” He pulled me close again, kissed me again, lightly but no less tenderly. “You look beautiful, Grace. Really, really beautiful.”
“And you look—”
“Like a complete idiot,” he said, looking down at his costume. “The sequins are one thing, but these tights?” He groaned. “There’s no one on earth I would do this for besides you, Grace. No question about it; I must be in love.”
At the far end of the garden, under the twinkling canopy of lights Luke had hung himself, the band began to play a waltz. Luke kissed me again.
“Let’s dance.”
He grabbed my hand and I ran alongside him down the path and across the grass, excited and already a little breathless, my heart hammering and my mind reeling.
He loves me?