Page 42 of Frosted and Sliced

He was clearly joking, because if there was one thing she’d learned about Burke, it was that he was insanely brilliant.

“The inn at the end of this street,” she said, tone bleak.

“Ah, the competition,” he said, nodding.

“They’re not my competition,” she wailed. “In order for them to be competition, I’d have to be in the same caliber. Is a mouse competition for a tiger? No. And they’re really nice about everything, whenever I see them. I keep expecting them to give me a pat on the head someday. Her little inn, it’s cute how she tries.” She motioned around the interior.

“What’s wrong with your inn?” he asked somewhat defensively.

“Nothing,” she exclaimed.

He blinked at her. “Are you having a mental breakdown? Do you need a hug?” Hugs were the only thing he felt he’d mastered, the only thing that seemed to work, no matter the problem.

Georgie nodded and eased closer. He hugged her, rubbing his hand up and down her back a couple of times until she took a deep breath and let out a bit of the tension inside her. Then he tipped her face up so she could read his lips.

“What is the problem? Explain it like I’m five. Or like I’m a guy who has no idea how your girl brain functions.”

“TheAnneMarieis owned by a conglomerate of investors from…I don’t even know where they’re from. But they own a ton of inns up and down the coast and they have endless amounts of money to pump into their events and decorations.” She motioned to the tree behind her again.

Burke glanced at it, searching for clues. He found none. “Keep going, I’m still lost.”

“This tree,” she said.

He looked at the tree again. “It looks fine, like every other Christmas tree I’ve seen.”

“Yes, exactly,” she said, nodding. “It’s a perfectly fine tree, and I shouldn’t complain, I know I shouldn’t. But sometimes something evil inside of me logs on to theAnneMarie’swebsite and looks at their pictures. Do you know they had a professional holiday decorator do their inn?”

“That’s a thing?” he interjected.

“If you’re rich enough, everything is a thing.” She fiddled on her phone and flipped it to face him, showing him what was presumably theAnneMarie.And she was right, it looked like Christmas threw up all over their lobby, a mass of trees and garlands and lights that must have cost a small fortune and an army of people to execute. “I know it’s whiny and petty, and I swear to you most of the time I don’t care. Most years I look at their decorations, and it’s like pressing my nose against the glass, seeing things in the store window I know I’ll never have. But this year is the winter festival and people are going to go to both inns, and because I’m doing dessert, my inn is last. Which means they’re going to go there, and then they’re going to come here and…” she motioned to the tree again.

He looked at the tree, trying to see it with fresh eyes. To him it still looked fine; homespun, simple, and tasteful, much like Georgie herself. It was atouchabletree, unlike the pristine fancy ones at the other place. He didn’t know how to tell Georgie that, though. “This is a real person’s tree, the kind that would look good with popcorn and cranberry garlands. The kind little kids are allowed to touch and help decorate. Those other trees, they’re magazine trees, for looks only.”

She tipped her head, regarding the tree with the filter of his words. “I like that,” she said, but her smile looked sad. She spun in a slow circle around the inn. “It’s not that I want to be someone else, it’s that I wish I could afford to be more of who I already am. I don’t have the money or the time or the manpower to make this place look the way I want it to. And I just don’t…” she trailed off and swallowed hard, but she didn’t need to finish because he got it.

She didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of the townspeople she was so desperate to impress. She didn’t want anyone to look down on her or, worse, pity her. She wanted to dazzle them, to finally make them see her and her abilities.

“Absolutely no one can compete with your food,” he said, which he thought was a really good, encouraging thing to say, but she shook her head, looking sad again.

“TheAnneMarieis bringing in a staff of chefs from Portland for their course.”

“Georgie, maybe they have more people, but they don’t have more talent or more heart.”

“I wish that counted for as much in real life as it does in the movies,” she said, swiping at the one little tear that leaked out of the corner of one eye. “Because the thing is, Burke, I’ve had talent and heart my whole life, and it hasn’t mattered at all.”

“Georgie,” he began, tone pleading.

She held up a hand to ward him away. “It’s fine, forget it. I’m done with my pity party, okay? I still have a ton of work to do, and I’ll get it done. I made the mistake of pausing my exhaustion and felt overwhelmed for a minute. It’s fine.”

Burke felt like he had another epiphany, similar to the one he’d had the first time he hugged her and it worked to make her stop crying.When she says she’s fine, she’s actually not fine.If that were true, why would she say she was fine?

“You’re squinting at me in confusion,” she noted. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he tried, borrowing a page from her book.

She nodded, willing to accept that as an answer. Maybe “fine” didn’t mean the opposite of horrible; maybe “fine” meant “it’s too complex and I don’t feel like talking about it at the moment.”

“Why don’t you take a break and do something not work tonight? You’re going to kill yourself.”

---