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I finished putting the cello away, but when I came back to the center of the stage, I found that Aaron had left without a word.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
“Behind,” I called as I hurried through the kitchen, slipping past the bustling servers and cooks as effortlessly as cutting through water. We were in the middle of dinner service for the Spring Has Sprung fundraiser, so the servers were busy filling up their trays with the plates the cooks laid out. I found my way to the end of the line, dropping my tray on the stainless-steel table, waiting for my turn to load the plates of chicken and vegetables.
I let out a breath, brushing the back of my hand along the side of my neck. “Running smoothly?” I asked Monica, who stood beside me.
If it’d been Paige, she would’ve launched into a whole spiel about how she was, or how her arms ached. She would’ve said something to pop the bubble of tension that came on event days. But it was Monica, and she only nodded.
“How many tables do you have left to serve?”
“I’m on my last one.”
I was too, thankfully. It’d been a long time since Alderton-Du Ponte held a fundraiser as big as their Spring Has Sprung event. Upon the start of the event, I finally understood why Mr. Roberts had been so stressed—the guestlist wasmassive, at least by normal fundraiser standards. Rhythms of Hope had rolled in with dozens of people, dressed in glittering gowns and sleek black suits. Almost every Alderton-Du Ponte club member showed up as well, filling the ballroom space to near capacity. Which meant that we had a lot of tables to serve meals to.
The cooks set the plates down in front of Monica, and she began loading up her tray. “Have you seen Mrs. Pine?” I asked her.
“Nope.” She glanced over. “I think she’s in the music hall, making sure that’s ready.”
“Something needs to be set up?” We’d done most of the prep work last night.
Monica hefted her tray onto her shoulder. “Aaron Astor’s announcement, remember? They had flowers delivered?”
Last night, Aaron had said he’d ordered the flowers before he’d called things off with Fiona. I frowned. “He didn’t?—”
“Behind!” Monica called as she pulled away from the table, heading out into the ballroom.
When we were hired in Alderton-Du Ponte, one of the first things they taught us was how to balance our serving trays. Full dinner plates like this one, I could only squeeze three onto the tray, and could carry the fourth in the palm of my left hand. I loaded my tray up, waiting for the fourth.
“Here you go, Princess,” the chef said, setting down the last plate in front of me. There’d been no animosity in his tone, but he turned his back before I could check his expression.
Princess, I thought, picking up the plate. It was a ridiculous nickname for a staff member, but it also had me thinking back to where it’d come from.
Caroline had been the first to say it. Four years ago, when I’d first started dating Grant, she’d started it. She’d used it so much that my coworkers picked it up, twisting its intention. Or, perhaps, uncovering itstrueintention.
I shook my head, heading toward the kitchen’s door.Ridiculous.
The ballroom buzzed with energy, a soft murmur of laughter and conversation mixing with the clatter of plates and knives. Servers moved in and out, offering champagne flutes that sparkled under the chandelier, while a couple of violinists played a gentle, flowing melody in the corner of the room.
As soundless as a ghost, I walked over to my last table and laid the plates down amongst them. No one looked up at me, either, as if their dinner was magically appearing, and not being delivered by a human being.
“…stunning, isn’t it?” one lady was saying, peeking around the ballroom.
A man, presumedly her husband, nodded in response.
A second lady leaned to stretch her hand across the table, and I had to swing her plate back to keep from bumping into her. “Mirabelle, didn’t you say one of the Astor sons would be here tonight? Which is he?”
My gaze flicked up to Mirabelle, not recognizing her as one of the Alderton-Du Ponte elites. She must’ve been here with the charity. “I don’t see him yet,” she murmured, and then, inexplicably, her eyes lifted to lock onto mine. Hers narrowed ever so slightly.
It sent a flutter of panic through me, and I quickly laid the final plate in front of the last guest, turning away before she could accuse me of eavesdropping.
With an empty tray, I should’ve scanned the tables for cleared plates or dirty dishes, but instead, I scanned the heads at the tables, searching for something else.Someoneelse.
One of the Astor sons.
Anticipation at seeing Aaron had been gnawing at me all day—or, honestly, since last night. When I’d turned around on the stage to find that he’d left, a pit of unease had settled inside me. I’d come into work expectant to see him, but now, with the clock ticking almost two hours since the guests had arrived, Aaron still hadn’t made an appearance.
He wouldn’t skip out on the charity’s Spring Has Sprung fundraiser… Right?