Page 51 of Frosted and Sliced

“You did this?”

“You said you wanted it to be spectacular,” he said.

Georgette had no idea what to say, none. She couldn’t say how much it must have cost, to call in a company last minute and have it all done in a day. How had he possibly afforded this? “Burke,” she began, but he shrugged. She turned in a slow circle again, making another inspection. This time when she faced him, he was gone.

CHAPTER 22

The Winter Festival always began downtown with merchants who opened their doors and set out candy, drinks, or treats for everyone to enjoy. When Georgette was little, she remembered it being so magical, with hot chocolate, popcorn balls, frosted sugar cookies, and live music. This year the deli set out a bowl of mints and the consignment shop had a thermos of watery cocoa from a mix. The bait and tackle shop was the only downtown shop to go all out with cookies and warm spiced tea, but it was offset by the smell of dead fish and “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” played on repeat. Times were hard, Georgie knew, but now the pressure was even greater on her and the other innkeepers to deliver a magical experience.

Or maybe the experience was magical for everyone but Georgette, who wandered the downtown alone, feeling bereft. Cotton and Elyse were somewhere in the crowd, and her brother was on duty, making certain no one became rowdy. But it wasn’t the lack of their presence that made Georgie feel so alone; it was Burke. He’d been MIA since their last conversation. Did he still live in her attic? Georgie thought so, despite any evidence that he remained. Private as he was, she still didn’t think he would move out without a word. But the fact that he had obviously beenavoiding her was intensely painful, especially because she was certain she’d hurt his feelings. That increased her guilt, guilt that felt unbearable in light of his generosity.

For tonight she wanted to put everything from her mind but the festival. She’d worked so hard getting ready for the event that she’d barely slept the last two days and, she realized as she unwrapped a mint, she’d forgotten to eat all day. Now that she remembered she felt shaky with low blood sugar, a fact that did nothing to stem her anxiety. Why oh why had she told Burke about her “boyfriend,” if such a label could be applied to the man she knew only as Siggy, the nameless, faceless person she’d been texting for so many months. On the other hand, why was Burke so bothered by the information? He had never hinted that he had any interest in her, more than friendship. If he didn’t want her to be with anyone else, why hadn’t he claimed her for himself?

Someone touched Georgie’s arm and she realized someone had been trying to get her attention. She whirled, heart in her throat, deliriously hopeful it might be Burke.

“Georgie, we’re so excited to see the inn,” Annabell Adler, one of Jenna’s friends, said to her, being careful to look at her and enunciate.

Georgie sifted her words, trying to see if she meant them sarcastically, but she seemed sincere.

“Thank you,” Georgie said, smiling, tamping down the nerves in her stomach. She had to fight against the desperate urge to run back to the inn and make certain everything was still ready. It had been, a half hour ago when she left, but the anxiety kept climbing up her throat, attempting to convince her of pending catastrophe. What if a raccoon came down from the attic and ate everything she’d left on display for the party? Granted she’d never seen a raccoon anywhere on her property, including the attic, but there was a first time for everything.

A few more people stopped her and said something similar. Georgie smiled and tried to accept their words with grace when, really, they increased her panicked sense of impending doom. This would be awful. Something would go horribly wrong. Her inn wasn’t up to par. Everyone would see the flaws she’d tried so hard to disguise with wreaths and low lighting. Should she turn off all the lights and put out candles instead?

Her head swiveled longingly toward her inn, but it was no use; she had to go to the first inn, the illustriousAnneMarie.As much as Georgie hadn’t wanted to attend the festival alone, she was thankful for the solitude at the moment because it allowed her to flood into the herd of people who entered the inn, unnoticed and unobserved.

As she’d thought, theAnneMarielooked incredible. They had seemingly spared no expense to decorate. Georgie counted ten trees, at least nine feet tall, and those were only the ones she could see at first glance. The entire place smelled piney and fresh, with no hints of must or mildew, no easy feat for a two hundred year old mansion.

The food spread was equally impressive, with mini lobster rolls, crab cakes, shrimp cocktail and stuffed haddock. Even with their close proximity to so much fresh seafood, the cost most have been immense. There was no way Georgie could have come close to covering what must have been spent, and she began to feel the desperate sense of looming failure again. How would her inn possibly fare well next to this? This was lavish and over-the-top, like something from Boston or Portland, nothing like their tiny impoverished town usually saw.

While the herd of townspeople headed toward the buffet, mouths agape with something like awe, Georgie headed toward the drink table. She was hungry, but also parched. Suddenly her thirst outweighed her hunger, and she had no desire to be stuck in the long buffet line, no desire to confirm what she alreadysuspected, that the food would be incomparably delicious. She could tell by the scent of garlic and lemon that it was so. Instead she got in the relatively short drink line, intending to reach for a water. But when she reached the table, she saw a tempting punch instead, something orange that looked like mango. A little bit of juice would go a long way toward quenching her thirst and stabilizing her sugar, and possibly her mood.

She reached for a glass and downed it in two sips, so quickly that she was able to down three more by the time she reached the end of the long drink table. It was probably rude to take so many when there were still so many other people behind her, but she was certainAnneMariehad enough to cover her gluttony. And besides, it wasn’t as if anyone was watching.

“Georgie, what are you doing?” her brother hissed.

So maybe someone was watching.Big Brother is always watching,she thought, fighting the mad desire to giggle.

“I was thirsty,” Georgie said. Did she whisper that? She couldn’t tell and tipped her head, trying to listen to words that had already died down and disappeared.

She must not have whispered because Brody glanced around, took her elbow, and led her off to the side. This time when he spoke, he only mouthed the words, probably hoping she would do the same. He was almost as good at reading lips as she was, after all.

Were you trying to get drunk?he asked.

She snorted.Of course not. Why would you think that?

Because you just downed four hurricanes.

Georgie blinked. Did her lids move one at a time? Maybe. “What’s a hurricane?” Did she mouth that? She couldn’t tell.

“I don’t know exactly, but I know it has a whole lot of rum.”

Georgie smacked her lips together, tasting her tongue. Oh. Rum. That would be the flavor she hadn’t been able to place. Uh-oh. Did she say that out loud?

“Yes, uh-oh, and yes, you said that out loud,” Brody hissed.

“Sssss.” Georgie could hiss, too, apparently.

Brody rubbed the area between his eyeballs. “You know you’re getting ready to host all these people in your inn in about twenty minutes, right?”

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