shuffling my papers in a way that made me feel like a newsreader. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t stop myself. For some reason, I’d thought it was a good idea to wear my skirt suit to reinforce the message that events was a serious business, and the waistband was cutting into me. ‘It’s twenty to ten already.’
‘No,’ said Helen, as if she were speaking to a small child. She crossed her legs and leaned back on the padded chair. ‘We’renot all here. Chill your boots. He’s probably got lost. This hotel’s like a rabbit warren if you’re not familiar with it. All the carpets are the same.’
‘This is the office next to his dad’s,’ I pointed out. ‘And he lived here until he was eighteen.’
‘Shall I note that?’ Gemma asked, her pen poised. ‘Joe is late?’
I was about to say, ‘Yes, why not note that,’ when the door opened and Joe appeared.
I blinked because for a moment I didn’t realize it
was
Joe. This morning’s Joe looked like a different person again to the one I’d met in Laurence’s office, much less the one I’d encountered in the bridal suite. The board shorts had gone, and in their place was a pair of chinos topped by a blue checked shirt – albeit one that already looked as if it had spent several weeks at the bottom of a laundry basket at the same time as still having visible packet creases.
The blond hair was still long and rumpled, though, and he hadn’t shaved. And he was wearing his horrible shell necklace. On this showing I could probably introduce him to a florist, but definitely nobody more important in the wedding hierarchy.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, with a half-apologetic smile that I spotted Gemma returning at full-beam. ‘Slept in. Jet lag.’
‘Which?’ I said, before I could stop myself.
He raised an eyebrow, as if he couldn’t believe someone might question why he was late for his first-ever meeting. ‘Both?’
‘Probably culture shock, too,’ said Helen cheerfully. ‘Getting used to an English breakfast again, eh?’
Joe ran a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah, actually, where are you getting your coffee from? Because it’s pretty poor compared with what people expect as standard in the US now.’
Gemma’s mouth dropped open.
Fresh start
, I told myself, before the irritation could take hold.
Be positive. Be nice
. The coffee could be a bit … variable, sometimes. Laurence thought caffeine was the devil’s work.
‘I’ll speak with our supplier!’ said Helen brightly.
‘Joe, do you know Helen? Helen Yardley, our restaurant manager, and Gemma Lane, Laurence’s PA and my events assistant.’
‘Junior events planner,’ said Gemma. ‘Or deputy wedding coordinator, depending on the event.’
‘Again, Gemma, that remains technically under discussion,’ I added, still smiling.
Helen had risen from her seat and extended her hand towards Joe; she had a very elegant way of doing that which I’d tried and failed to master since we’d been mates. My handshake was still more headmistress than cool starlet. ‘Hello!’ She smiled charmingly. ‘How lovely to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Really?’ said Joe, casting a wary look in my direction. ‘What’s Rosie said? That she had to call security on me?’
‘Of course not! I never said—’ I blustered.
‘She hasn’t told us anything, apart from the exciting news that you’re work-shadowing us all.’ Helen carried on smiling at Joe. ‘I had a brief meeting with Laurence this morning – he told me that you were working your way around the hotel. He’strying to get the heads of department together for a formal lunch so we can welcome you properly.’
Joe immediately looked pained, the same expression he’d worn when Laurence told him he’d be starting with weddings. ‘Really? I told him not to do that. I don’t want a big fuss made about the boss’s son, you know, touring the hotel …’
Being handed a plum job on a plate without
‘No,’ said Helen, as if she were speaking to a small child. She crossed her legs and leaned back on the padded chair. ‘We’renot all here. Chill your boots. He’s probably got lost. This hotel’s like a rabbit warren if you’re not familiar with it. All the carpets are the same.’
‘This is the office next to his dad’s,’ I pointed out. ‘And he lived here until he was eighteen.’
‘Shall I note that?’ Gemma asked, her pen poised. ‘Joe is late?’
I was about to say, ‘Yes, why not note that,’ when the door opened and Joe appeared.
I blinked because for a moment I didn’t realize it
was
Joe. This morning’s Joe looked like a different person again to the one I’d met in Laurence’s office, much less the one I’d encountered in the bridal suite. The board shorts had gone, and in their place was a pair of chinos topped by a blue checked shirt – albeit one that already looked as if it had spent several weeks at the bottom of a laundry basket at the same time as still having visible packet creases.
The blond hair was still long and rumpled, though, and he hadn’t shaved. And he was wearing his horrible shell necklace. On this showing I could probably introduce him to a florist, but definitely nobody more important in the wedding hierarchy.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, with a half-apologetic smile that I spotted Gemma returning at full-beam. ‘Slept in. Jet lag.’
‘Which?’ I said, before I could stop myself.
He raised an eyebrow, as if he couldn’t believe someone might question why he was late for his first-ever meeting. ‘Both?’
‘Probably culture shock, too,’ said Helen cheerfully. ‘Getting used to an English breakfast again, eh?’
Joe ran a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah, actually, where are you getting your coffee from? Because it’s pretty poor compared with what people expect as standard in the US now.’
Gemma’s mouth dropped open.
Fresh start
, I told myself, before the irritation could take hold.
Be positive. Be nice
. The coffee could be a bit … variable, sometimes. Laurence thought caffeine was the devil’s work.
‘I’ll speak with our supplier!’ said Helen brightly.
‘Joe, do you know Helen? Helen Yardley, our restaurant manager, and Gemma Lane, Laurence’s PA and my events assistant.’
‘Junior events planner,’ said Gemma. ‘Or deputy wedding coordinator, depending on the event.’
‘Again, Gemma, that remains technically under discussion,’ I added, still smiling.
Helen had risen from her seat and extended her hand towards Joe; she had a very elegant way of doing that which I’d tried and failed to master since we’d been mates. My handshake was still more headmistress than cool starlet. ‘Hello!’ She smiled charmingly. ‘How lovely to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Really?’ said Joe, casting a wary look in my direction. ‘What’s Rosie said? That she had to call security on me?’
‘Of course not! I never said—’ I blustered.
‘She hasn’t told us anything, apart from the exciting news that you’re work-shadowing us all.’ Helen carried on smiling at Joe. ‘I had a brief meeting with Laurence this morning – he told me that you were working your way around the hotel. He’strying to get the heads of department together for a formal lunch so we can welcome you properly.’
Joe immediately looked pained, the same expression he’d worn when Laurence told him he’d be starting with weddings. ‘Really? I told him not to do that. I don’t want a big fuss made about the boss’s son, you know, touring the hotel …’
Being handed a plum job on a plate without
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