He frowns. “No. Why would there be?” he says snidely.
We all visibly sag with relief. “Yeah, she’s the baker,” I say.
“Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he snorts, then hands Big Aunt an ID with her name and the word BAKER on it. “Wear this at all times.” He turns to Ma. “And who are you?”
“Flowers,” she says.
“Florist,” I add.
“Okay, here’s your ID, and you would be the hair and makeup?” he says, turning to Second Aunt, who nods quickly. He hands her an ID and then gives me the last one. I turn it over in my hand, marveling at how meticulously planned this wedding is. I don’t think I’ve ever done a wedding where we’ve had to wear ID cards on a lanyard before.
“I have question,” Second Aunt says.
The guy visibly sighs. “Yes?”
“Erm, your boss—he okay? He very fierce? He in bad mood today?”
He stares at her with the world’s bitchiest expression. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s not like we’re besties or anything.”
She leans closer. “So you not see him today?”
“Ugh, I don’t know. I’m a busy guy. I don’t keep track of everyone who comes on and off the yachts.”
“Isn’t that literally your job? Keeping track of who comes on and off the yacht?” I say.
He shoots me a glowering look and says, “Anyway, here’s your buggy. You guys should go now. Toodles!”
We clamber up into the buggy, exchanging meaningful looks with one another. Still no luck finding out whether or not the hotel knows that Jake’s not turning up today. It hits me that I don’t even know if they’re expecting him here. Last night, he’d told me that this is his seventh resort, so it’s not like he’s expected to turn up at every function that’s being held at one of his hotels. But then this is his most ambitious project so far—an entire island owned by him, and this is the first wedding the resort is hosting, and the bride’s parents are personal friends, so surely he’d be expected to show up and make sure that everything runs smoothly. Which means that at some point, someone will go, “Where’s Jake? Why isn’t he here yet?” and then someone else will be asked to ring his cell, and—
Holy. Shit.
His cell!
In the confusion and panic this morning, I’ve totally forgotten about it. I jump up and almost get flung off the moving buggy. Ma and Second Aunt yelp and catch hold of me, and the buggy halts suddenly, throwing us back in our seats.
“What happened?” the driver says. “You okay? Did you drop something?”
I can only shake my head and wave a weak hand at him, indicating that he should continue. Once I catch my breath, I say, “Kita lupa handphone nya dia.”
“Handphone siapa—oh,” Ma gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Ada dimana handphone nya?”
I don’t know where it is. I shake my head.
“Pasti didalam kantung celana,” Second Aunt says.
His pants pocket. Yeah, that’s a fair assumption to make, and I only checked one. How loud is its ringtone? Would people be able to hear it ringing inside the cooler? They will probably start calling him soon, if they haven’t already been calling.
“Here we are,” the driver says, as the buggy stops at the entrance to the resort. We clamber out and then stop and stare at the grand entrance.
The lobby of the hotel is built atop a hill. The words “majestic” and “hallowed” come to mind. The resort has been designed with ancient Southeast Asian architecture in mind, with richly carved ornaments decorating the giant columns. The lobby is open on two sides, offering a stunning view of the resort and the ocean below. The ceiling is so high I have to tilt my head all the way back to see the top, and surrounding the lobby is a peaceful pond with brilliant orange koi and floating candles.
Despite the gorgeous setting, my chest is tight, my stomach knotted painfully. Ma, Big Aunt, and Second Aunt all wear the same strained expression. We’re greeted by a receptionist, who tries to tell us where each of us needs to go, but Big Aunt interrupts her.
“No, they must come with me first,” Big Aunt says.
The receptionist falters. “Um, but the rooms are in the opposite direction of the kitchen. It’s a big resort. Hair and makeup is expected at the bridal suite soon. If you go to the kitchen first, you might be late—”
“Is okay, we be very fast,” Big Aunt says, rising to full authoritative mode.