Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [75]
Lindsay looked at Bridget. Bridget looked at Lindsay. Lindsay said, “I guess we are.”
“Not to mention putting together all of those mini guest baskets and the big baskets for the wedding party, and, excuse me, but where are we going to get a hundred place settings and glasses?”
“And who’s going to wash them afterward?” offered Lori.
Cici looked at the other two with a mixture of severity and dismay. “None of this is in the contract. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We figured you had enough to worry about,” Lindsay said unhappily.
“Besides, we gave our word,” Bridget admitted. “We’ve just got to figure out a way to make it work.”
Lori looked up from the computer. “How much did you say you were charging for the buffet?”
Bridget answered, “Forty-five dollars a head. That includes wine.”
“Plus thirty-five each for the gift baskets, and I’m guessing the rehearsal dinner is at least fifty, wine inclusive ...” She did some calculations. “You’re going to be raking in some serious cash.”
Bridget sighed. “When you deduct the cost of food and wine, not so much.”
Cici regarded her warily. “But you did make certain you figured the profit margin before you quoted the price, right?”
“Of course I did. But they just kept adding things and assuming things, and,” she finished unhappily, “I have a feeling our profit margin is a lot smaller than it started out to be.”
Cici said, “I have to go look at the contract.”
And Lindsay added, standing, “We should let Lori get some rest.”
“We should try to pick the rest of the strawberries, if there are any left,” Bridget said. “We’re going to need every last berry if I’m going to turn them into two hundred fifty-six jars of wine jam.”
“We need to get Noah away from that goat house and into the cherry trees with a bucket,” suggested Lindsay. “What kind of wine jam can you make from cherries?”
Lori said, without looking up from her laptop, “Leave the cookies.”
Cici lingered as the other two women left the room. “You should take a nap,” she said, coming over to the bed and reaching for the laptop. “There’ll be plenty of time for this later.”
But Lori held up a staying hand. “No, it’s okay, Mom. I’m not tired, and it’s nice to feel useful.”
Cici smiled as she sat down on the edge of Lori’s bed. “Well, there’s never a lack of anything useful to do around here. And I guess you want me to leave you alone so you can e-mail your boyfriend in Italy.”
Lori shrugged and tapped another key on the computer, changing screens. “He’s not my boyfriend. Never was, really. And now ...” She shrugged again.
“But you were able to take your exam,” Cici pointed out. “You could still ...”
Lori was shaking her head before she finished. “I withdrew my application,” she said. And although she did not meet her mother’s eyes, the heaviness in her voice betrayed her disappointment. “You heard what the doctor said. I won’t be back to normal with this leg for months yet, and this was a hands-on job in a working vineyard and winery. It wouldn’t be right to cheat them out of the help they were expecting, or to take the opportunity away from someone who could actually do the work.”
Cici nodded thoughtfully, and then slipped her arm around Lori’s shoulders and kissed her hair. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?”
Again Lori shrugged, but this time she returned a lopsided smile. “I’ll get to Italy,” she told her mother. “Eventually.”
“You bet you will, sweetie. And I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if your friend—your non-boyfriend—is waiting for you when you get there. You are worth waiting for, if I do say so myself. After all, I waited—”
“Nine months and eighteen days for me to be born,” Lori supplied. “I know.”
“Eighteen excruciating days,” Cici reminded her.
“Well, Italian college boys aren’t exactly known for their patience, and I’m sure he will have forgotten me long before I get there.”
Cici waited. Lori clicked another key.
“He keeps writing me,” she admitted, “but I don’t answer.”
“Over him, huh?” Cici said sympathetically.
“No,” Lori interjected quickly, and