Chapter 34 Panic and Tarts
\-Celeste-
After days of meticulous planning, the day of Fae’s charity gala finally arrived and all was in order.
Somehow, we’d managed to get a loan from the bank. I was certain someone had interfered, but the lady’s lips were sealed.
I knew it couldn’t be my grandmother. Perhaps someone had noticed me at the bank? I was thankful to them. We were able to get the equipment we needed and even hire enough staff for the event.
“Celeste,” Denise called, striding over to my stand. Her expression was tight, brows drawn together. “We have a problem.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What is it?” I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.
“The van driver… he called. He’s on his way to the wrong venue,” she said breathlessly. “It’s quite far from here, but I managed to reach him.”
“Did he say what happened?”
“Yes, he got a call from us about a venue change.”
I suddenly felt a rush of panic.
How could this have happened? My mind reeled. After all those hours of prep, the desserts, the setup, it could all fall apart. My mind raced, calculating the fastest route, figuring out who I could call, who could meet him halfway.
“Don’t panic. He wasn’t that far away. He’ll be here max…” she paused, glancing at her wristwatch, “an hour.”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Right. An hour. Not too late.”
“Good, just take a deep breath, everything’s under control,” she assured me.
I nodded. “I want you to call him again and stay on the line. Make sure he takes the correct route and doesn’t stop anywhere else. In the main time, you and the team start arranging the tables with the risers and linens now, even before the desserts arrive. Get everything stable and level.”
“Aye, Captain.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “You’ve got this, Celeste—”
“It doesn’t look like you do.” A familiar voice replied from behind me. I turned sharply, half startled, half annoyed.
Bianca.
She stood a few meters away from me, smirking like she knew something I didn’t. Like we were in an undeclared war.
“What do you want, Bianca?”
She grinned, stepping closer till her perfume nearly choked. “Have you quickly forgotten? Fae Winters chose me for social media coverage. Do you know how many donations are already trooping in from my followers?”
I let out an exasperated sigh, desperate to end whatever this was. “Good for you… Now if you’d excuse me, some of us have to make sure the event holds, so your donations can troop in.”
With that, I turned to the table, making sure the labels and display cards were in place. Every damn thing about her screamed shallow. It was pathetic.
Just when I thought she was out of my hair, she grabbed my arm, forcibly turning me to face her. I struggled, but she was rather stronger and bigger than me.
“Listen to me, Ashford Princess,” her eyes widened as she gritted her teeth, “I don’t like your tone. I don’t like how you act. In fact, I don’t like you—”
“The feeling’s mutual, Bianca.” I retorted with amusement.
Her jaw clenched, brows furrowing till her make-up creased. “You better mind that snarky mouth of yours, ‘cause your husband isn’t here to save you!”
How dare she think I’m a weakling?
I flung her hand off, my eyes flashing with defiance.
“I don’t need Lucien to save me, Bianca. I can save myself. Now, how about you go on with begging your followers to make donations, while I make sure the rest of us are fed.”
She turned red with anger, opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t.
“You better watch your back, Ashford Princess,” she spat.
“And one more thing, it’s Ashford Heiress to you, Bianca Campton.” I said, proud and bold.
Quietly, she turned and stormed off. At least that will keep her away for now.
Denise returned moments later with news that the driver was back in the city and on his way here. I was relieved, I couldn’t bear to see anything go wrong.
When he finally arrived, I heaved a sigh of relief. Thankfully, the showpiece cake and the backup desserts were intact.
I held my breath, watching with tension as two staff members carefully lifted the centerpiece. It was so delicate that it could shatter at the slightest jolt. Finally, we got it out of the van, ready to assemble.
Just as I stepped back into the venue, a staff member rushed over, eyes wide.
“What is it, Sue?” I asked, dreading the worst;
“Ma’am … the freezer!” She breathed.
“Huh?”
“The freezer’s too warm. The mousse cups and tarts are softening!”
My stomach sank, heart racing as I darted to the freezer. Sure enough, the temperature read dangerously high. A few tartlets were already sagging, mousse wobbling like jelly.
“Portable coolers! Now!” I barked, pointing to the staff. “Stabilize every tray! Anything beyond saving, set aside, we can’t let this happen.”
They scrambled, ice packs clattering as trays were moved. I grabbed a few mousse cups, adjusting them carefully, heart pounding.
Something strange was definitely going on.
And then… the lights flickered. A soft buzz ran through the room. I froze. Not again.
“Celeste… the power’s going out,” Denise called from the far end of the hall, panic in her voice.
I clenched my jaw, adrenaline surging. The freezer, the power, the main cake was yet to be assembled … everything was hanging by a thread.
Somebody—or something—was trying to ruin this event. And I had no idea who.