Fiction by L.K.Campbell

“Calm down. You’re getting too worked up,” Celeste’s friend, Abby said.

“You’re right. Once the wedding professionals who are handling the event arrive, they’ll have it all down pat. I just have so much riding on this, Abby, and I can’t afford any mishaps.”

“The kitchen is as clean as it can get,” Henrietta, her part-time cook, said. “I’ll see you bright and early in the morning. Try not to worry. It will all go like clockwork.”

“Fingers crossed,” Celeste said. “Have a good rest of the day.”

The heavyset woman departed through the outside exit. Henrietta had reached and passed retirement age but still held down two part-time jobs to supplement her social security. That’s going to be me if I don’t make a success of the Gran Vista.

Celeste stood up from the table and walked to the counter where the coffee maker kept a constant brew going. In the appliances’ stainless steel finish, she caught sight of her graying temples and slightly sagging jaw muscles. She sighed. Thirty years ago, I gave birth to my youngest child. Now, I’m an old lady. She filled two cups and set one in front of her friend.

“I can’t remember if I dusted the light fixtures in the party room,” she said.

Abby’s fingers encircled Celeste’s wrist. “Sit down and relax for a minute. There’s plenty of time for you to make the light fixtures sparkle and shine.”

It seemed like a lifetime had passed since Abby Benson had been Celeste’s childhood friend in the small, Eastern North Carolina farming community where they’d grown up. They’d lost touch after going away to college and reconnected when Abby and her husband had sold their independent pharmacy and purchased a cabin near the Gran Vista. It didn’t seem to matter how their lives had taken different paths. The threads of friendship hadn’t frayed, and Celeste was glad for it. She’d needed Abby’s shoulder following Howard’s sudden death. Celeste eased herself into her chair and sipped from her cup.

“That marketing genius you hired must be doing a good job,” Abby said. “Weddings usually book six months to a year in advance. Yet, here you are hosting one only a few months after running your first promotion.”

“This couple wasn’t planning an elaborate wedding that would take a long time to pull together. It’s a small, family affair—less than fifty on the guest list. The groom is Wes Carlyle, a prominent businessman in Charlotte. I actually met him once when he came to the station to do an interview on a real estate development he’d planned in Raleigh. He’s a widower, and the bride, Emma Olson, is a widow so I suppose they wanted to keep it simple for each of their second trips down the aisle.”

“An older couple, then?”

“Well, he is,” Celeste said. “As I remember, he’s probably close to seventy now. Emma is in her forties and looks even younger. You can never tell what people have in common.”

“I saw your ad on one of the social media sites. It was very eye-catching without looking like click bait,” Abby said.

“I was pleased with it, too. There’s been an uptick in bookings over the last few weeks. According to Bill, a lot of hits have been coming to the hotel website through the ad you saw. They have some way of keeping track of it.” She paused and leaned across the table. “To realize a complete return on my investment with Bill’s PR firm, I need this wedding to be perfect. Good reviews from the Carlyles and their guests will help publicize the Gran Vista as much as any ad will.”

A lock of Abby’s red hair fell down across her face, and she pushed it behind her ear. I wonder if she dyes it. Abby never had children. That’s probably why she isn’t gray, yet or why she looks ten years younger than I do.

“This place is immaculate, Celeste, and the weather is supposed to be gorgeous through the weekend. What could go wrong?”

“Please don’t jinx me by posing that question.” She relaxed against the padded wooden chair. “I want the Gran Vista to be a success for Howard, even though he’s not here to see it.”

The Carlyle wedding party had reserved four king-sized rooms, two standard rooms, and the honeymoon suite. Celeste had spent most of the morning inspecting every square inch of those rooms and cleaning any spots that the housekeepers might have missed.

“What about for you, Celeste?” Abby leaned forward and cradled her coffee mug between her hands. “Don’t be angry with me for saying this but sometimes, I feel that you’re killing yourself to keep some part of Howard alive.”

“You don’t understand,” Celeste said.

She started to speak further but stopped and bit her tongue. Even though Abby had hit a sore spot, she was only trying to be a good friend.

“Then make me understand,” Abby said. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Celeste.”

Abby had missed her calling. She should’ve gone into psychology instead of pharmacology.

“If I hadn’t been tied to that damned television station,” Celeste said. “He could’ve had his dream a long time ago. He could’ve had years to enjoy it instead of the short time that he did. But no, I had to put my job first and look at what happened. The station was sold, and I was kicked out on my ass, replaced by a computer app, with nothing to show for all the time I gave up.” She paused to take a deep breath and release it through pursed lips. “Yes, I want this to honor Howard’s memory, but I want it for me, as well. I’m sixty-two. I did the same job for twenty-five years—a job that’s now been made obsolete by technology. Who is going to hire me if I have to go to work again?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you and Howard took hotel management courses at the community college before you opened this place?”

Celeste laughed. “So when I go for an interview, I can say, ‘I bankrupted my hotel, but please give me a chance to manage yours’.”

Abby’s smile spoke volumes. There was no need for her friend to say aloud what she was thinking. Celeste slumped in her chair.

“You don’t have to tell me that I’m getting a little crazy,” she said.

“A little?”

A knock on the outside door interrupted their laughter. Celeste peeked through the window and saw a petite, younger woman standing outside. Parked behind her, Celeste saw a white van emblazoned with the logo, Renée’s Catering. Celeste had met Renée Jenkins earlier in the week when the caterer had come by to make her plans for how to arrange the party room and staging area for both the rehearsal dinner and wedding luncheon. She’d seemed confident and capable at that meeting. Now, she looked frazzled and out-of-breath.

“I wasn’t expecting you this early in the day,” Celeste said.

“I know,” Renée said. “But I need a favor, and I hope you’ll help me out.”

Celeste ushered her inside.

“A water main broke downtown,” Renée continued. “They had to turn off the electricity to the side of the street where my shop is located and won’t have it switched on until late this afternoon.”

Celeste looked around the kitchen at the outdated but still functioning appliances. Howard had estimated that it hadn’t seen a remodel since the 1980s. The former Harvest Moon Lodge had operated a full-service restaurant. With the exception of a breakfast buffet for guests only, Howard hadn’t wanted the responsibility or expense of running a restaurant.

“These aren’t the most up-to-date appliances, but they all work,” Celeste said. “And you’re welcome to use them.”

Renée’s expression changed to relief and joy rolled into one. She slipped a red band off of her wrist and used it to style her thick, dark hair into a bun atop her head.

“Thank you, Mrs. Adams. There’s no way I could’ve prepared appetizers, dinner, and baked a cake for fifteen people in my apartment kitchen.”

“Please, call me Celeste and this is the hotel’s first wedding so I’m a bit nervous, too.”

Abby stood up. “Do you need help getting the food out of your van?”

“I can handle it,” Renée said. “I have my helpers with me.”

Renée went to the van, and Celeste saw two men attired in the same blue polo shirts and khaki pants that Renée wore. On her previous visit, Renée had told her that she’d been a recent graduate of the local community college’s culinary arts program. Starting her catering business had been a dream come true.

“I’m glad that I could help her,” Celeste said. “If we had a water main break here, I might take it as a bad omen.”

“Don’t mention omens,” Abby said. “Every wedding has some little glitch, and it looks as if this one is solved.”

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ISBN-13: 9781005665777

Words: 39,300

Published: Jun 15, 2021

Categories: Fiction » Mystery & detective » Women Sleuths » Cozy

The books in the Ghosts of Evergreen series are available in ebook only.