“T
he screen goes on that wall.” Rina pointed the man carrying the large projection screen to the far wall of her basement studio. “And those tables in the back,” she said, turning to the caterer, “are for the buffet.”
As her hired staff bustled about, Rina stepped back and surveyed the room. She’d transformed her studio into an elegant theater, with heavy velvet drapery and hanging brass candles. She smiled, picturing the girls’ reactions when they arrived.
“Convinced hubby to spring for another redecorating spree?”
Rina frowned at the sound of Gabriella’s voice. “Hello to you, too. And if you meant to compliment my decorating talents, then compliment accepted.”
