They Called Me the Spare Aunt, I Brought a Date novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Spare Aunt
Gwyneth is assigned a high chair and unpaid wedding duties; she refuses to surrender her guest room and accepts Miles's help. Celia announces that Miles will be Gwyneth's assistant for the entire wedding weekend.
I was given a high chair for my handbag.
My sister took my proper chair while I was removing a clothes brush.
"You'll be up and down anyway," Celia said.
Around us, wedding guests settled onto the inn's terrace.
I'd driven here for my niece's wedding.
Celia had given me a badge marked FAMILY COORDINATOR.
Everybody else had received a glass of champagne.
"I don't want the baby chair," I told her.
"It's for that enormous bag," Celia said.
"Then where do I sit?"
She pointed to a stool behind the welcome table.
A woman I didn't know handed me her empty glass.
"Could you find somewhere for this?" the woman asked.
I put it in the high chair.
Celia took it out before anyone could photograph it.
"We need to give the right impression," she said.
I pulled the badge from my dress.
The pin caught in my sleeve.
Naturally, I had brought a small pair of pliers.
Celia watched me free myself with them.
"You see?" she said.
"This is exactly why we need you."
I'd liked being useful before usefulness became my admission price.
I put the badge beside the empty glass.
A man approached carrying a welcome sign sideways.
He had sandy hair and a substantial tear in his shirt pocket.
"Where does this go?" he asked Celia.
"Beside the arch," Celia said.
The man looked around the terrace.
There were three arches, all covered in white flowers.
He chose the smallest and immediately hit it with the sign.
A flower arrangement slid toward an elderly guest's hat.
I caught the arrangement with my bag underneath it.
Water poured over the zip.
"It's waterproof," I said, before anybody could thank me.
The man looked at my dripping rescue equipment.
"Mine's mostly sandwiches," he said.
"I can offer absorbency if you don't mind mustard."
The elderly woman moved her hat onto her lap.
Celia pointed him toward the largest arch.
"That one, Miles," she said.
Miles set the sign down before asking another question.
"Can I carry something that isn't taller than me?"
Celia gave him a box of folded linen.
He examined the top square.
"Excellent," Miles said.
"Napkins rarely fight back."
I had to smile at that.
Celia noticed and gave me her room key.
"Could you put these in the upstairs breakfast room?" she asked.
"And take your things out of the blue room."
I stopped smiling.
"That's my room," I said.
"Gregory's aunt has decided to stay," Celia told me.
"We've told her she can have it."
Miles lowered the box onto the welcome table.
"Where's your sister going?" he asked.
Celia pointed through the windows toward a narrow sitting room.
"The sofa opens," she said.
"Gwyneth won't mind for a couple of nights."
The welcome table had gone very quiet.
I could see my suitcase through the sitting room door.
Someone had already moved it.
I'd paid for the blue room myself.
I had even requested the one with a bath.
I wanted to sit in it without anybody needing a safety pin.
"I do mind," I said.
Celia kept her pleasant expression for the people watching.
"The sofa is perfectly comfortable," she told me.
"Then your guest will enjoy it," I said.
I picked up my room key and went through the door.
My suitcase lay beside an enormous silver cardboard heart.
It said CELIA AND GREGORY, STILL SHOWING US HOW.
Gregory stood behind it with a roll of tape.
"Which room am I in?" he asked Celia.
Her expression changed before she saw me watching.
"We can discuss that upstairs," Celia said.
She pulled him toward the window for a photograph.
I wheeled my suitcase back toward the stairs.
Miles came in carrying the box of linen.
"Those are tablecloths," I told him.
He looked down at the folded squares.
"That explains the disappointing number of napkins."
He left the box on the table and took my bag.
"I'll carry this," he said.
"You don't know how heavy it is," I warned him.
He lifted it and immediately used both hands.
A small orange traffic cone fell out.
Miles looked at the cone, then at me.
"Wet floors," I said.
"I wasn't going to criticize," he told me.
"I've just found the person I'd like to stand near."
Celia appeared behind him with my abandoned badge.
She attached it to the linen box.
Then she gave Miles a second badge, printed ASSISTANT.
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