Mother's Promise (21 page)

Rachel carefully separated the herb seedlings that Hester had given her and knelt to plant them in the flower bed outside the cozy screened porch at the back of the guesthouse. It was hard to believe that they had lived in the cottage for almost a month now. It was even more impossible to believe that she was planting any spring or summer flower in October.

“Rachel?” Sharon Shepherd was knocking on the front screen door of the guesthouse.

“Out here.” Rachel wiped her hands on a rag as she went to meet Sharon. The normally cheerful woman's face was lined with worry. “Is Sally all right?” It was the first question anyone asked if Sharon or Malcolm seemed upset.

“She's fine. Thank you for asking. It's this charity ball tonight.” She heaved a sigh of pure frustration. “My co-chair called, and it seems that the pastry chef for the catering service we hired just walked off the job and his two helpers left with him.”

“That's terrible.”

“Fortunately he had already baked the key lime cakes that will form the foundation of our dessert. However, there are five hundred plates that need berries and a chocolate drizzle in the shape of a fiddlehead fern. I suppose we could serve the cake without the decoration, but the fiddlehead is the theme.”

Sharon seemed close to tears, and Rachel realized that the woman had come to her not to relieve herself of her frustration but to ask for some concrete help.

“What can I do?” she asked although she could not imagine how she might solve Sharon's problem. Perhaps she could wash the berries?

“I called Hester thinking she might be able to recommend someone from Pinecraft—perhaps a baker from one of the restaurants there—Yoder's or Troyer's. But she's over at her friend Jeannie's and I don't want to bother her when they have far more serious problems than this.”

“You could call the restaurants yourself or I could,” Rachel offered.

“I already did. It's Saturday—their busiest day.” She hesitated. “I really hate to ask, but do you think you might come with me? Perhaps together we could at least see what we could do about the desserts. We might as well forget about the fancy fern design.” She sighed. “Although that was the point—it's the Fiddlehead Ball, after all.”

“Of course, I can help,” Rachel readily agreed. “And Justin can come as well.”

Sharon's smile was radiant. “Thank you. Sally's already insisting on going so between the four of us maybe we can save the day. I'll go pack up my gown and shoes. I can change there. We can take my car. Malcolm can come in our other car so he can drive you and Justin and Sally home when we're done.” She ticked each item off on her manicured fingernails. “Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?”

“Justin and I will be ready,” Rachel assured her. As soon as Sharon left, Rachel called Justin in from his work weeding one of the flower beds and told him to wash up and change his clothes.

As she explained what was happening she changed into a fresh dress and put on a clean apron. She checked her hair, anchoring any stray wisps under her starched prayer covering and then knocked lightly on Justin's door.

“Coming.” He had not questioned anything about this strange turn of events, and for that she was grateful since over the last couple of weeks he had become even more reclusive, rarely talking about what had happened at school and never mentioning any new friends.

He emerged from his room dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. His hair was wet where he had tried to tame the cowlick.

“You look nice,” Rachel said.

Outside, a car horn tooted as Sharon pulled up in front of the guesthouse. Rachel saw Justin hesitate when he realized that Sally was seated in the backseat. “You ride up front,” Rachel said quietly. “I'll sit in back with Sally.” The look of pure relief and gratitude that Justin gave her was worth everything.

The ball was to take place at a large hall on the north end of town. When they entered the building, Rachel saw that the place had been transformed into a tropical garden. While Sharon and Sally went to speak with Sharon's co-chair who was clearly in charge of decorating the hall, Rachel waited patiently with Justin near the entrance.

“There must be a thousand candles,” Justin said. “Do you think they plan to light them all?”

“Probably so.”

“I could help with that,” he offered, and Rachel understood that for a boy the attraction of matches and fire was far more interesting than the idea of working in a kitchen.

“We'll see.” Sharon was crossing the room to where they waited. She looked even more stressed than she had when she'd first shown up at the guesthouse. “Is everything all right?”

“When it rains it pours,” Sharon grumbled. “The caterer has informed my cochair that his people will not arrive until fifteen minutes before we need them to start circulating with the appetizers, and more to the point, they are
waitstaff
, not
kitchen staff
.”

“What's the difference?” Justin asked.

“My point exactly,” Sharon said. “But a contract is a contract, and everything was already spelled out there. These people consider themselves specialists. There are separate teams to prepare the appetizers, salad, and entree, a wine steward and bartender, waitstaff, and the pastry chef and his two helpers that walked off the job. The caterer will do what he can, but we really need him overseeing everything and …”

Sharon looked as if she might burst into tears. “I'm so sorry, Rachel. I thought that if we could come down here for an hour or so and you could help … But I can't possibly ask you and Justin to stay all evening.” The lines around her eyes and mouth told Rachel that she was exhausted.

“Perhaps we could see the kitchen. After all, you don't have to replace all of those people you mentioned—just the three who left.”

“Right, Mom,” Sally said. “We have three people right here, so exactly what is the problem?”

Sharon looked skeptical, but she led the way to the large kitchen. On tables that ran the length of one long wall were stacks of green plates.

“As soon as the salads go out, you can start assembling the desserts here,” the caterer told them. Rachel saw several flat trays with the undecorated key lime cakes waiting to be cut. At least the baking was already finished.

Sally peered at a pencil drawing taped to the wall. It was the design for the chocolate fern that the pastry chef had planned to decorate each plate with. She grinned and started rolling back the sleeves of her shirt. “I can do that.”

Her mother was skeptical, as was the caterer. “Can't you make an exception and do this part?” she asked him.

“Not if you want everything else to come off smoothly. Have you seen the list of things we have yet to do?”

Sally nudged her mother's side. “Let me try, okay?”

The caterer filled a pastry bag with chocolate and handed it to Sally. Several of the kitchen staff stopped what they were doing and gathered around as she bent over the plate and began drawing the fern.

“Perfecto,” one man whispered.

Sally grinned. “I'm going to be a famous artist one day.”

“I thought you were going to be a baseball player,” Justin said.

“That too,” she told him. She glanced at her mother and Rachel. “Well, do you want me to get started on the other four hundred ninety-nine ferns or not?”

Sharon kissed Sally's forehead. “I do love you, kiddo,” she murmured before turning her attention to Rachel. “Are you sure this isn't asking too much of you?”

“Not at all. We're happy to help, and one late night is not going to cause us any harm.”

“Thank you so much.” Sharon clapped her hands together to gain everyone's attention. “So, Rachel and her son, Justin, and my daughter, Sally, will manage the assembly of the desserts.”

“If anybody wants to help …” Sally left the thought hanging as she grinned at the rest of the kitchen staff. They all chuckled and went back to work preparing trays of appetizers and putting the finishing touches on the other courses. “Guess we're on our own, then.” Sally looked at Rachel and Justin. “Just give us the green light when you're ready,” she told the caterer.

While Sharon went to change into her ball gown, Rachel, Justin, and Sally did whatever they could to help make sure everything was ready for receiving the guests. They helped prepare the appetizer trays, cleared away used skillets and other cooking utensils, and filled carafes with ice cubes, water, and thin slices of lemon. To Justin's delight, Sharon and her co-chair recruited him to assist with the job of lighting the small votive candles that formed a circle around centerpieces of a single orchid surrounded by ferns on each of the tables set for ten guests.

“Five hundred candles,” he said when he came back to the kitchen. “And that doesn't count the ones that are on the stage.”

He was excited—more like the boy he'd once been, and Rachel sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

They were so busy that Rachel barely noticed the time passing. It was only after the last large oval tray had been loaded with the final plates of dessert that she accepted the plate of food the caterer handed her.

“Thank you,” he said. “I quite literally could not have pulled this off without you and the children. Any time you might want a job …”

Rachel smiled. “I have a job, but I do appreciate the offer.”

“Mrs. Kaufmann,” Sally whispered from her place near the door that led to the ballroom, “come look. It's magical.”

Now that the kitchen was quiet, Rachel could hear the music, the clink of flatware on china, and the laughter and conversation of people enjoying themselves.

“Follow me,” Sally said with a twinkle in her eyes and a mischievous grin that made it impossible not to want to know what she was up to. Even Justin followed her through the hallway and up a narrow staircase to a balcony that overlooked the ballroom below.

It took a moment for Rachel to adjust her vision from the glaring fluorescent lighting of the kitchen to the shadows and candlelight of the ballroom—a different world where men in tuxedos and women in jewel-toned gowns seemed almost to be a part of the decoration. It was like looking at a painting, a moving painting, as the guests danced or sat enjoying their dessert and talking.

“There's Mom and Dad.” Sally pointed toward the center of the dance floor. She sighed happily. “Isn't she beautiful?”

“She is,” Rachel agreed.

“I'm glad that she's having a good time,” Sally continued. “She's been through a lot, worrying about me and all.”

Rachel could not help but marvel at the girl's perceptiveness and her kindness in taking joy from the fact that after all the weeks and months of worry her mother was carefree, at least for the moment.

“Ooh,” Sally whispered, “there's Uncle Ben.”

Rachel searched the dancers for a glimpse of the handsome doctor.

“He's with that lady from the hospital.” For the first time that Rachel could recall, Sally sounded less than her usual upbeat self.

“Ms. Meekins looks lovely,” Rachel said.

“Yeah.” Sally's tone was grudging.

Darcy Meekins looked very different than she did at the hospital. She was wearing a beautiful aqua-colored satin gown and her hair—usually caught up into a sophisticated twist at work—cascaded down her back in platinum waves. Rachel turned her attention from Darcy back to Ben. On those occasions when she happened to see him at the hospital, more often than not he was wearing scrubs or an ill-fitting lab coat. Even in such casual clothes, there was no denying how handsome he was. But seeing him in formal wear took her breath away.

Embarrassed and confused by her reaction, Rachel turned her attention back to Darcy who was laughing at something Ben had said. Rachel had to admit that they made a perfect couple. And she wondered why the idea of Ben with Darcy made her feel sad.

Chapter 13