Around the last ten or so minutes of the cocktail hour, the sky conspired against me and opened up. The deluge began. A few fat drops served as a prelude before the heavy shower hit. Everyone scrambled to get into the lodge as I urged them off the patio. Three-pronged lightning flashed wildly and the crack of thunder eclipsed the crashing of c
ymbals as the band’s equipment was hastily moved to the foyer.
A harsh wind roared through the terrace while I rushed about with the staff, collecting vases of flowers and hurricane lamps containing pillar candles—now blown out by the gust, the smoky scent wafting on the night air. A couple tipped over. The one I reached for flew off the table.
The shattering of glass on the Saltillo tile lent to the suddenly eerie atmosphere and the sense of urgency to gather everything up. Kyle jumped into the mayhem, snatching decorations quicker than I could and adding them to a service cart. Strands of hair slashed across my face as the undercurrent gained strength.
“Get inside, Ari!” he shouted.
“This is my job!” I insisted as more jagged bolts lit the night. “You’re a guest. You get inside!”
“Yeah, right. And leave you out here?” He rounded up the last of the arrangements and all but dragged me into the lodge. We set everything off to the side with the gift table.
My breath labored from the scurrying around—and how close the lightning had struck.
The guests remained dry, thankfully, and incredulous conversations over how fast and furious the tempest had hit were in full swing.
Meghan hurried over, delicately holding up the hem of her gown. “Ari, you’re drenched!”
She dropped one side of her fluffy skirt and snatched a clean linen napkin from a high-top table set up specifically in the event the rain didn’t hold off until dinnertime. She handed the napkin over and I dabbed at my cheeks and throat while my pulse raced.
“You were so right about the monsoons,” she said, contrite. “But at least we got through the ceremony and almost all of the reception. Everything’s just gorgeous, Ari!”
“I’m glad it worked out—for the most part.”
She waved her manicured hand in the air as she was prone to do. “It’s all fabulous. Exactly what I wanted. Well, with the exception of you getting soaked.”
“It was worth it. We salvaged just about all of the arrangements.”
Meghan had asked me previously to make sure the florist returned for the bouquets at the end of the evening and distributed them to hospices and funeral homes to brighten someone else’s day. I thought that was a beautiful gesture.
She leaned forward as though to hug me. My hand jerked up to ward her off.
“Don’t you dare,” I hastily said, “or you’ll ruin your dress.” I wouldn’t have minded the friendly bit of affection coming from her but I feared spoiling her gown. “You need to get upstairs so dinner can start. And I need to find some towels.”
Sean came for her and I turned to Kyle, who was shaking off the rain from his jacket. He gave up and slipped out of it. He raked a hand through his hair and managed to appear dashing despite his slightly unkempt appearance. The wet look totally worked for him.
“Thanks for the save,” I said.
“Had to redeem myself, right? I didn’t exactly get to be the hero in the bar.”
“You really weren’t given a chance.” It was unfortunate that I couldn’t release the image from my mind of the man who had been the hero. Albeit a reluctant one. His scowl had spoken volumes.
Kyle told me, “I’d offer you my jacket but it’s no drier than your own clothes.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“What else can I do to help?”
I laughed softly. “I think you’ve earned your wings, by a lot. You’d better get going, anyway. Formal introductions are about to be made.” According to my careful planning.
“You’ll save me a dance, right? Or a few?”
His sudden mega-watt grin was contagious, despite my mind being elsewhere. “I’m the wedding planner, remember? Here to work. But you … Go. Have fun. Enjoy. Eat too much cake.”
I tried to shoo him off with a wave of my hand. He lingered a moment or two, as though he had something else to say. He really was very sweet. Valiant. I liked him, no doubt. But didn’t want to lead him on. So I was relieved when he spun around and sauntered off, heading to the second floor.
I ducked into the bathroom and used a few plush hand towels to dry my skin and the ends of my hair. I ran one over my blouse and skirt to sop up the drops of water. I couldn’t wring out the garments or the material would rumple miserably. I was stuck with moist, clinging clothes because the gift shop was already closed and I hadn’t brought a spare outfit. Lesson learned there.