Abby took shelter in the kitchen with the herd of caterers. She wouldn’t be called upon to make an appearance until dinner, but she couldn’t help a healthy curiosity. For almost a week the entire house would echo with the comings and goings of people who were, if not Everett’s friends, then certainly his compatriots. She couldn’t help wondering what the faces who matched the voices looked like, and whether or not they would be properly charmed by the house. One of the caterers, a stocky frat boy with golden curls and a Roman nose, stumbled against the kitchen counter, and nearly dropped a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Abby ducked forward and caught the tray as it wobbled, saving stuffed mushrooms from a precipitous demise. “Oh.” The boy’s entire face turned deep red. “I’m sorry.” Abby set the tray on the counter, and sent a quick peek in the direction of the head chef. “No harm done. I don’t think anyone noticed.” She gave the caterer a sympathetic pat. “First time?” “Yeah.”
