Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Rosie took over. Gideon wouldn’t care about the food. He cared only that Rosie got everything she wanted. “I’ll email the menu. I’d really like a cocktail reception to start, with a few canapés, whatever you think would be good. We’ve also got a few children coming, so if you can provide kid food for them, that would be great. We’d planned a sit-down dinner rather than a buffet. But the meal itself is completely up to you.”
“We trust your judgment,” Gideon added. “What you did for the gala was fantastic.”
Sit-down dinner. And carte blanche. Interesting. Ransom began planning all the things he could prepare.
Then Rosie said, “But we do have a budget.”
A Maverick with a budget?
“Sorry, man,” Gideon said, “but I don’t have huge funds available, not like I did for the gala.”
Gideon had been in the army, then worked as a contractor. Now he was VP of warehousing, shipping, and procurement at Daniel Spencer’s Top Notch DIY conglomerate. Gideon also invested in Maverick ventures, just as Ransom sometimes did. Ransom figured the man would be a billionaire in his own right one of these days, and sooner rather than later.
But he hadn’t kept any of the proceeds from the sale of the painting for himself. So for now, he had a budget.
“No worries at all,” Ransom said. “I’m used to working within anyone’s budget. And I owe all of you guys.”
Rosie’s sigh of relief was audible. “I’d reach right through the phone to hug you if I could, Ransom. We didn’t know what we were going to do.”
Ransom smiled, remembering what Ava had said. If they couldn’t find another caterer, the family would pitch in. And it would have been a great wedding. But… “I’m glad I can help.”
They talked logistics—when, where, number of guests. It was to be a close-knit family wedding, a few friends, but mostly Mavericks and Harringtons, as if they’d all been folded into one family. Still, that was quite a number these days.
“Okay. I got it. Let me get to work.”
Rosie jumped in again. “You don’t need to worry about the cake. Gabby Harrington and Fernsby are taking care of that.”
Even over the phone, Ransom raised an eyebrow. A vegan and a baking butler who thought butter was the staff of life creating a wedding cake?
“I’ll call Fernsby,” Gideon added. “I’m sure he’ll tell Gabby. It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Of course it won’t. But let me call Fernsby. I’ll need to talk logistics with him anyway.”
Fernsby had worked for Dane from that very first resort. He was a staple. Ransom had known the man almost as long as he’d known Dane and Ava. But Fernsby and Gabby baking the wedding cake together? Oh, that he’d have to see. And taste.
* * *
Fernsby answered the phone immediately upon seeing Ransom Yates on Caller ID. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Yates?” Fernsby asked in his most melodious tones.
Not that anyone had ever called him melodious. Except perhaps Mathilda. But that was long, long ago.
“I just got a call from Ava Harrington.” Ransom seemed to add Harrington as if Fernsby wouldn’t know who Ava was. “She got a call from Gideon—their caterer has dropped out.”
That dragged a gasp from Fernsby. He credited himself with never gasping, never being surprised. For a man who never burst over anything, he burst out with, “This is a catastrophe.”
“Have no fear, Fernsby. Ava asked me to step in. I’ve talked with Gideon, and I’ve agreed.”
Because no one was looking—Fernsby was alone in his suite of rooms at Dane’s Pebble Beach home—he allowed himself a smile. Well, well, well. Would wonders never cease. Ava, and even in his mind, he stressed her name, had asked Ransom, stressing that name in his mind also. And the man had agreed. Readily. At the last minute, no less. That spoke volumes, at least to Fernsby. Things were progressing between them.
And Fernsby hadn’t yet lifted a finger to help.
Just think what could happen when he put his brilliant mind to it.
He wanted to sing like Fagin in the movie Oliver. The situation, upon review, was progressing very nicely indeed.
But Ransom was saying, “Let’s talk about the cake and what kind of service you need.” They went over the details, all of which were quite simple.
Then Fernsby said, “Miss Gabrielle Harrington has the cake topper. I will give her a call and let her know of the change.”
He would delight in giving her a little lecture on the wonders of butter at the same time.
“Great. Thanks, Fernsby. I’m very interested in what you and Gabby come up with.” Had the young man—because even a man in his forties was young to Fernsby—snickered?
Oh, he was sure Ransom Yates would love to know all his secrets.
“You will be astounded, Mr. Yates,” he drawled. “As will everyone on the big day.”