Page 39 of The Maine Event

At ten on the dot, a delivery driver arrives with the printed invitations we’ll use for everyone who lives locally. I stare at the colorful array splayed across the kitchen table, my mind buzzing with possibilities. Dan’s housewarming party is the perfect opportunity to orchestrate his big acting comeback announcement.

He may not know it yet, but this is exactly what he needs.

The gold-embossed invitations feel suitably fancy for announcing a major life-changing event. They’re perfect.

I grab my favorite pen, the one I usually reserve for signing client engagement contracts, and start jotting down ideas for the invitation wording. It has to be just the right blend of intriguing and mysterious, enough to pique people’s curiosity without giving away the surprise.

“You are cordially invited to The Maine Event, a housewarming soirée, celebrating new beginnings and exciting revelations.”

I read it aloud, tapping the pen against my chin. “Hmm, not bad.”

Dan may be hesitant at first, but I know deep down he’s been longing to revive his acting career. He just needs a little nudge in the right direction.

I gather up the chosen invitations, envisioning the look of surprise and gratitude on Dan’s face when he realizes what I’ve done for him. Sure, it’s a bit unconventional to make such a big decision without consulting him, but sometimes people need a push—especially when they’re standing on the edge of something great, and refusing to take the leap.

As I stuff the invitations into crisp white envelopes, anticipation builds in my chest. This party isn’t just about Dan’s acting comeback; it’s about showing him that he has someone in his corner, cheering him on and believing in his dreams.

I seal the last envelope with a flourish, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

Better to beg for forgiveness than asking for permission, right?

Well.

Here goes nothing.

I tuck the invitations into my purse, my fingers lingering for a moment on the soft flap of the final envelope—like part of me knows I’m crossing some kind of invisible line. But I’ve made peace with it. Dan might not see it now, but he will.

Sometimes, we need to believe for people, when they can’t do it themselves—just until they remember how.

The Portland Tribune office is abuzz with activity as I step through the glass doors, a stack of invitations tucked discreetly in my purse.

The air is thick with the scent of fresh coffee and printer ink, the clack of keyboards filling the space as reporters talk rapidly into phones or hunch over their desks. I scan the room, mentallycataloging the energy. Newsrooms are a lot like PR agencies—organized chaos, fueled by caffeine and looming deadlines.

I approach the receptionist’s desk, shoulders back, confidence dialed to maximum PR mode.

This isn’t just a party.

It’s a pivot.

And it starts now.

“Hi there,” I say, flashing my most approachable but professional smile. “I was hoping to speak with someone about an upcoming event. It’s quite exclusive, and I think your readers would be very interested.”

The receptionist, a young woman with a sleek bob and inquisitive eyes, leans forward slightly. “Oh. What kind of event are we talking about?”

I lower my voice conspiratorially, like I’m letting her in on a massive scoop. “Let’s just say it involves a beloved local celebrity making a major announcement. I can’t reveal too much yet, but trust me, it’s going to be the talk of the town.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head.

“Intriguing!” she says, grabbing a notepad. “What kind of announcement?

“Something that’ll have everyone talking.” I let the pause stretch. “A new chapter. A return. Maybe even… a redemption story.”

She exhales, clearly hooked. “Let me see if our entertainment editor is available. One sec.”

As she picks up the phone, I allow myself a small, satisfied smile. The seed has been planted, and I can already sense the buzz starting to build.

With the newspaper piece set in motion, I shift gears and set off on my next mission—delivering the invitations to Dan’s old friends, the ones he’s been so good at avoiding all these years.

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