Best Man for the Wedding Planner

Her phone rang.

They were still three staff members short for tonight’s dinner service.

And she felt like crap—more so every minute.

Slow down and think, she reminded herself, trying to stem the feeling of panic crawling through her. She could handle this. It was her job. She handled anything that was thrown at her, right?

“Ms. Hawthorne?”

“Just a minute,” she answered, trying to think.

Her phone rang again. When she hung up, she felt ready to cry.

Two members of the string quartet were down with the flu and so sick they were unable to play.

“Ms. Hawthorne,” the delivery man said again. “What do we do with the sculptures?”

“I don’t know!” she blurted out, and then let out a huge sigh. “I’m sorry. I suddenly have three crises and I need a moment.”

She stood in the middle of the floor, wanting nothing more than to be back in bed. She was cold, she ached and she was simply tired.

Melting sculptures. Understaffed. No music. She knew bad luck came in threes, but she’d never had it happen at a wedding before.

“Is something wrong?”

She closed her eyes. Not Dan. This was the last thing she needed.

Take a breath. Smile.

She turned to face him and attempted the smile. “Oh, just some last-minute wrinkles I need to sort out.”

He was frowning at her. “I get the impression it’s more than a wrinkle.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know. So you’ve told me several times. But do you need help?” He stepped forward, his eyes earnest. “Sometimes handling it means delegating. But I’m sure you know that, too.”

“The sculptures are hours early. They’ll be melted before the reception even starts.”

“A freezer in the kitchens?”

“I thought of that. But then we have to move them again...and we’re down staff members. The flu.”

“What about outside? On the balcony? It’s cold enough they’ll stay frozen. We could ask if we can have a dolly and move them all back at once when they’re needed.”

“It might work. Let me make a call.”

When she got approval to move the ice sculptures outside, Dan stepped in and helped load them onto the dolly, and then supervised delivering them to a corner of the balcony where they could come back and get them in the afternoon. Adele waited inside, where it was warm, but when he came back in, she ate a little humble pie. “Thank you, Dan. I was suddenly so overwhelmed. This is a great solution.”

“About getting them back to the room and unloaded...”

“You’ll have photos with the wedding party. Don’t worry. I’ll find someone. And if I have to, I’ll get it myself. I can lift forty pounds.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You haven’t started lifting weights, have you?”

She laughed in spite of herself and then covered her mouth. “No, though I do run quite often. Just not today. Today I’m in crisis-management mode.”

“What else has gone wrong?”