Call Me Irresistible (Wynette, Texas #5)(83)

Meg recognized some of the women golfers from the club. Torie was talking to the only person in the room dressed entirely in black, a woman Meg had never seen. Torie's champagne flute stalled halfway to her lips as she saw Meg approaching with the serving tray. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Meg dipped a fake curtsy. "My name is Meg, and I'm your server today."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because . . ." Torie waved her hand. "I'm not sure why not. All I know is, it doesn't seem right."

"Mrs. Beaudine needed some help, and I had a free day."

Torie frowned, then turned to the thin woman at her side, who had a fierce black bob and glasses with red plastic frames. Ignoring the breach of protocol, she introduced them. "Lisa, this is Meg. Lisa is Francesca's agent. And Meg is-"

"I highly recommend the puff pastries." Meg couldn't be certain Torie wasn't about to identify her as the daughter of the great Fleur Savagar Koranda, the superstar of talent agents, but she knew Torie well enough by now not to take that chance. "Make sure you save room for dessert. I won't spoil the surprise by telling you what it is, but you're not going to be disappointed."

"Meg?" Emma appeared, her small brow knit, a pair of earrings Meg had fashioned from colorful nineteenth-century carnelian beads bobbing at her ears. "Oh, dear . . ."

"Lady Emma." Meg held out the tray.

"Just Emma. Oh, never mind. I don't know why I even bother."

"I don't either," Torie said. "Lisa, I'm sure Francesca has told you all about our local member of the British royal family, but I don't think the two of you have met. This is my sister-in-law, Lady Emma Wells-Finch Traveler."

Emma sighed and extended her hand. Meg slipped away and, under Francesca's watchful, worried eyes, headed over to serve the local mafia.

Birdie, Kayla, Zoey, and Shelby Traveler clustered together by the windows. As Meg drew nearer, she heard Birdie say, "Haley was with that Kyle Bascom again last night. I swear to God, if she gets pregnant . . ."

Meg remembered Haley's pale face and prayed that hadn't already happened. Kayla saw Meg and poked Zoey so hard she splashed champagne on her hand. All the women inspected Meg's skirt. Shelby shot Kayla an inquisitive look. Meg held out the stack of napkins to Birdie.

Zoey fingered a necklace that looked as though it had been made of shellacked Froot Loops. "I'm surprised you still have to work parties, Meg. Kayla said your jewelry's selling great."

Kayla fluffed her hair. "Not that great. I marked the monkey necklace down twice, and I still couldn't move it."

"I told you I'd redo it." Meg had to agree the monkey necklace wasn't her best piece, but nearly everything else she'd given Kayla had sold quickly.

Birdie tugged on a spike of her woodpecker red hair and regarded Meg loftily. "If I was going to hire catering help, I'd specify who I wanted. Francesca's too casual about this kind of thing."



       
         
       
        

Zoey glanced around. "I hope Sunny's not back yet. Imagine if Francesca invited her with Meg here. None of us need that kind of stress. At least I don't, not with school starting in a few weeks and me down to one kindergarten teacher."

Shelby Traveler turned to Kayla. "I love monkeys," she said. "I'll buy that necklace."

Torie slipped into the circle. "Since when do you love monkeys? Right before Petey turned ten, I heard you tell him they were filthy little beasts."

"Only because he'd just about talked Kenny into buying him one for his birthday."

Torie nodded. "Kenny'd do it, too. He loves Petey as much as he loves his own kids."

Kayla shook her hair. "That French girlfriend of Ted's, the model, I always thought she sort of looked like a monkey. Something about her teeth."

The Crazy Women of Wynette were off and running. Meg slipped away.

When she got to the kitchen, Haley had disappeared, and she found Chef fuming as he stepped over broken champagne flutes. "She's worthless today! I sent her home. Leave the fucking glass alone and start plating the salads."

Meg did her best to follow his rapid-fire orders. She raced around the kitchen, avoiding the broken glass and cursing her pink platforms, but when she returned to the living room with a fresh tray of drinks, she deliberately slowed her steps, as though she had all the time in the world. Maybe she didn't have any experience as a server, but nobody needed to see that.

Back in the kitchen, she unearthed three small pitchers for salad dressing as Chef dashed to the oven to check on the frittatas. "I want these served hot."