Sandra asked as they sat on the futon in Ella’s apartment. Ella was triple-checking her notes. Sandra was filing her nails. Ella wasn’t fooled. Her friend didn’t want to lend a hand as much as she wanted a good look at Chase. Ella shook her head. “It’s a dinner party for eight people. If I can’t handle this on my own, there’s absolutely no hope for me in the business.” “You can handle it.” Sandra stopped filing. “You seem to really like this job.” “I do.” Ella looked up from her notes and grinned. “I mean, what’s not to like about parties, right?” “Yes, but planning them isn’t the same as attending them. It can’t be all fun and games.” “No.” A lot of tedium was involved, as Ella was discovering. She’d touched base twice already with The Colton about the food, and had headed off a crisis over the centerpiece when the florist called earlier that morning to say the shipment of sky-blue hydrangeas had not arrived.
