“It won’t be a disaster. You’ll just plan everything and get Raina and Ty to do it.”
“Eden, really. Let’s just whiz past the absurdity of catering a wedding that I am in and think. Six weeks. That’s so soon. I can’t possibly pull it together by then.”
The attendant emerged from behind the curtain, carrying the dress. The curtain fell back. Eden’s voice came through again. “What do you mean? Of course you can. Just a week ago you pulled together an entire course in thirty minutes using crazy ingredients—and nearly won! If anyone could pull this off, it’s you!”
“Oh, Eden.” Grace looked at her own visage in the mirror. Tan, lean, looking healthy. Why, then, did she feel so dead inside? “This is way over my head.”
“You only think it is.” She poked her head around the curtain. “Listen, the venue has a serving staff, and I know you could get people to help you in the kitchen. What about students from the local school? All you have to do is plan and prep. Raina can do the rest.”
“Of course Raina could help. Ty too, and yes, that’s a great idea about the cooking school, even if they did reject my application, but the real problem is . . . I don’t know Hawaiian cooking that well.” She sank onto a tufted stool. “I can’t put this together on my own.”
“Don’t be silly. You just spent three weeks learning how. Use the recipes you learned.” Eden smiled. “I trust you.” She disappeared again behind the curtain.
Eden shouldn’t trust her—not after the salt fiasco. In fact, this plan had the makings of a disaster. “How many people are coming?”
“About a hundred of our closest friends?”
Grace had no words.
“How about if I shorten the list to seventy-five. Keep it intimate.”
Seventy-five was intimate?
“C’mon. You just pulled it off for Ivy and Darek.”
“Are you kidding me? Seventy-five guests for a sit-down Hawaiian-theme dinner is a far cry from Ivy’s and Darek’s forty friends and some chicken on the grill.”
Eden came out a moment later, back in her jeans, flip-flops, and a T-shirt. She took Grace by the shoulders. Met her eyes. “You can do this. And you will do this because I’m desperate, Grace. I need you.”
Grace felt as if she were Owen on the receiving end of one of Eden’s legendary pep talks. No wonder Owen turned out to be a star—Eden talked him into it.
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
Eden looped her arm through Grace’s. “Fine. I’ll sic Jace on you.”
“That’s just playing dirty.”
Eden grinned. “I knew it. You are a sucker for hockey players.”
Grace started to smile, especially since she knew it was so true. She’d do just about anything for Jace—even more for Eden, of course, but yeah, something about hockey players turned her weak.
Even if she hadn’t realized it until three weeks ago.
They walked out the door of the bridal salon into the hot summer. Eden clicked the locks on her car—Owen’s old car, his Dodge Charger. He’d left Eden the wheels when he ditched Minneapolis.
They pulled out and got on 94, headed east.
“Where are we going?”
“Jace wanted to take us out for dinner tonight. Have a little welcome-home celebration. I hope that’s all right.”
“That sounds great.” Her body buzzed, still set on aloha time. Right now she’d be finishing class, and Max would be getting ready to surprise her with their afternoon activities. Hiking, parasailing, surfing, or maybe just a walk along the beach.
Something fun, even romantic. Something that would change her life.
Something that she should forget.
“You’re awfully quiet over there.” Eden veered toward St. Paul.
“I’m just tired.”
“You haven’t said anything about Max.”
Grace lifted a shoulder. “Nothing to say. He was my cooking partner.”
“What are you talking about, nothing to say? You two stole the show!”
She glanced at her sister. “Don’t tell me you saw the videos too.”
“I was a fan! I tweeted about you, cheered you on. I was glued to every episode.”
Grace sighed.
“Grace . . . last time we talked, you were going to wear a hot dress and get the guy to notice you. Then you land on the show. And now you’re all . . . ‘nothing to say’?” She put her hand on Grace’s. “What happened?”
She didn’t know where to begin.
“Did you tell him you had feelings for him?”
“No.” Not really.
“Oh. Did he tell you?”
“No.” Not really.