Page 37 of Fall Surprises
"Will be thrilled to be part of salvaging this. Come on, Sam. You're the best event planner I've ever seen. If anyone can pivot a disaster into a triumph, it's you."
Something sparked in her expression—the fighter I'd come to know emerging from the ashes.
"A Halloween gala," she tested the words slowly. "A masquerade party instead of a wedding."
"Exactly. And we'll make it so spectacular that Diana gets her special, the guests have an amazing time, and everyone remembers you as the genius who saved the day instead of letting it implode."
She was quiet for a long stretch, processing. Then her shoulders straightened, that determination I admired blazing back to life.
"I need to call Rory."
The shift was immediate. Sam went from devastated to determined in the space of a breath, the gears in her mindalready spinning. She grabbed her phone and started making calls while simultaneously pulling on clothes.
"Rory? It's Sam. We have a situation... Yes, Raven eloped... No, I'm not kidding... Listen, we need to transform this into a Halloween party instead. Can you help spread the word?"
I threw on my shirt and headed for the door. "I'll start on the kitchen pivot. Let’s get this show on the road.”
She caught my arm, pulled me back for a quick, fierce kiss. "Thank you. For believing we can do this."
"If anyone can," I grinned, “it’s definitely us.”
Jake and Molly were already in the kitchen when I arrived—they'd shown up at five-thirty as scheduled for breakfast prep, unaware that our bride had flown the coop. I filled them in while we got breakfast service going for the inn's regular guests.
'We're going to need more hands,' I told them as we finished setting up the buffet. 'Call everyone you know with catering experience. Your sister, Molly. Jake, that friend from culinary school who moved here last year. We need all the help we can get.'
By the time we'd handled the light lunch service—mostly untouched by the shell-shocked wedding party—we had a full crew. We deconstructed the elegant plated dinner into elaborate stations—a raw bar, carved meat station, autumn harvest display, dessert table that would make Instagram explode.
Through the kitchen window, I caught glimpses of Sam directing yet more chaos. She had the rental company removing chairs and expanding the dance floor. The DJ—one of Jett's backups who'd been hired for the afterparty—was now the main entertainment. The florist rearranged centerpieces into dramatic displays that screamed Halloween elegance.
Rory became a one-woman phone tree, calling what seemed like half of Wintervale. "Pop-up Halloween bash at the inn tonight! Tell everyone! Costumes encouraged!"
By noon, word had begun to spread. First Edna Snowcroft from The Purrfect Cup, who'd always had a soft spot for the inn and immediately offered to bring coffee and pastries for the workers. Then her business partner Piper, who knew someone with a costume rental business in the next town over—her cousin who'd love the publicity. The local bakery owner. The bookshop proprietor. It wasn't the whole town—but it was enough. Each person who showed up brought something—decorations, helping hands, word-of-mouth that rippled outward.
Edna arrived with boxes of battery-operated candles she'd been storing for the café's own Halloween event. "For atmosphere," she declared, then promptly started arranging them throughout the space while Mozart, one of her cats, supervised from a carrier.
The teenage barista from The Purrfect Cup showed up with her entire friend group, all eager to help transform the space.
Sam stood in the middle of it all, directing traffic with her phone in one hand and clipboard in the other, but I could see the wonder breaking through her focus. This kind of community support—people helping just because they could—was clearly foreign to her big-city world of contracts and invoices. I knew the feeling.
"Where do you want these?" Cass appeared with an armful of elaborate masks he'd somehow procured.
"Oh, those are perfect!" Sam's face lit up. "We can hand them out at the entrance for anyone who doesn't have a costume."
Stormi wandered through in a daze, still in her pajamas. Sam intercepted her, guiding her to a quiet corner.
"I know this is a shock," I heard Sam say gently. "But you're free now. You don't have to pretend to be happy for them."
"Blaze is passed out in his room," Stormi said numbly. "Diana had to give him the news three times before heunderstood. He kept saying 'But the wedding is today' over and over."
"He'll be okay. You both will. And tonight, you're going to put on an amazing costume and dance and start a brand-new chapter."
Stormi managed a weak smile. "My sister is such a bitch sometimes."
"Sometimes," Sam agreed, which made Stormi actually laugh.
Meanwhile, Diana was in her element, directing Tony to capture every minute of the transformation. "This is better than the wedding would have been," she kept saying giddily. "The phoenix rising from the ashes! The show must go on! America will eat this shit up with a spoon!"
At three o'clock, Sam found me in the kitchen, both of us taking our first break in hours.
