Right Number, Wrong Girl

I slid one out from under the main plan and set it on top. “I have about ten.”

“And you tell me you’re not organised.”

“I’m not. I washed my hair with conditioner this morning and had to take another shower.”

He grimaced. “It’s been a rough day for you, hasn’t it?”

It really, really had.

I nodded slowly and reached for my wine.

“All right.” He did some quick maths on his notepad, then held the sheet of paper with the seating plan up against the window with the blank side facing us. He quickly sketched out very rough tables and chairs using the light as a guide before he put the sheet back down in front of me. “Look at this routing. The more tables there are, the tougher it is for the serving team to navigate. Ten to a table isn’t so large that it’s overwhelming for them or it’s too hard for the guests to talk to one another. Remember that dinners like this are served to a military-style schedule. There’s a certain time for each course to be served, it’s all brought out in a certain order, and in a certain time frame.”

“Right. And larger tables mean less navigation even though it’s the same number of people?”

Hugo nodded. “You’re looking at Silver Service. Each server can carry a minimum of four plates at any one time. It’s not two plates per person which doubles the serving time.”

“It’s about bringing out the food, not the guests.”

“Essentially, yes. You want them fed as quickly as possible.”

“Right. Ten to a table it is,” I acquiesced. “But none of that answers the question of whether we’re happy with the seating plan.”

He chuckled and leaned forwards. “I think it’s about as good as it’s going to get. Relatives are sitting together, those who don’t get along are as far apart as we can make them, and honestly, dinner doesn’t last long enough to stop any issues that are going to arise from it.”

“That… isn’t scary at all.” I pulled the plan back to me. “All right, you know better than I do. So… that’s the cake, the seating plan, the invitations. Flowers need your mum’s approval, clothing is none of my business, and the menu also needs your mum to approve it.”

“Good luck with that,” Cait said, pulling her notepad out of her little apron. “I saw Evelyn today and she was adamant that she’d deliberately picked items from each menu to wind Anna up.”

I closed my eyes and nodded slowly. That was exactly what had happened. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Hugo sighed. “What are you eating?”

“My misery,” I muttered.

Cait snorted. “Sorry, we don’t serve that.”

“You should. I have plenty of it.” I opened the menu and scanned it. “I don’t know… bangers and mash.”

“You are very classy today, darling,” Cait said, writing it down. “Lord Hugo?”

He shot her a look. “Same for me.”

“Way to make your date feel good.”

“I’m not his date,” I bit out at the same time he sharply said, “She’s not my date.”

Cait took our menus with a wan smile and said, “The ladies doth protest too much.”

I glared after her. “Is she always like that?”

Hugo nodded slowly. “She needs to get laid.”

Didn’t we all?

“Does she know you think that?”

“No, I’m not stupid. I’m also not in the position to help her meet anyone because our target audience is not the same.”