Page 38 of Fall Surprises
"I can't believe we're pulling this off," she breathed, leaning against the counter beside me.
"I can. You're incredible."
She turned to look at me, and for a heartbeat, the noise faded. "Gus—"
"Chef, where do you want the ice sculpture?" Jake called, because apparently someone had donated an ice sculpture.
"Of course there's an ice sculpture," Sam laughed. "Because why not?"
"Put it by the bar," I called back, then turned to Sam. "You need to get ready. Party starts in an hour."
"So do you. Actually—" She bit her lip. "Piper's cousin is bringing a van full of costume options—should be here within the hour. There'll be a whole rack in the parlor. Pick whatever you want, but choose something good. I want to dance with you tonight."
By 4 PM—the original ceremony time—the inn had been completely reimagined. The garden gazebo, lit with hundreds of fairy lights and surrounded by luminarias, became a romantic seating area. The dining room was cleared for dancing, with the DJ station where the head table would have been. Food stations lined the walls, each one more elaborate than the last. The entire space glowed with candlelight and autumn colors, sophisticated but fun.
And people were arriving. Not just the original wedding guests, who'd been informed of the change, but locals in their Halloween finest. Mayor Theodore Snowcroft showed up dressed as Dracula with Edna as his vampire bride. Piper wore elaborate cat ears that matched her café's theme. Even the bookshop owner had thrown on a wizard's hat.
I stood at the kitchen door in my costume—Clark Kent, complete with thick-rimmed glasses and a button-down shirt strategically opened to show the Superman S underneath. I'd grabbed it from the rack, figuring it was easy enough—glasses and a partially unbuttoned shirt revealing the iconic symbol. Plus, something about being the mild-mannered guy who saves the day felt appropriate given the circumstances.
Then I saw her, and my mind went blank.
She floated down the stairs in full Glinda the Good Witch glory—a shimmering pink ballgown that caught the light, a crown that sparkled in her hair, and a wand held high like she truly could grant wishes. But it was her smile that stopped my heart. Radiant. Confident. Victorious.
She'd taken disaster and spun it into magic.
The party exploded to life. Tony trained his camera on Stormi—dressed as Maleficent and looking fierce—dancing with a local guy dressed as a knight. Blaze had somehow rallied after three cups of coffee and a cold shower, thrown on a cowboy hatthat technically counted as a costume, and was regaling the high school football coach with slurred stories of his NFL days.
"You should've seen me, man," Blaze swayed, gripping the man's shoulder. "Fourth quarter, down by six, fifty yards to glory—"
"Sure, son," the coach said patiently, steering him toward a chair. "Let's get you some water."
The TV crew was ecstatic, capturing shots of the crowd, the food, the absolute success of the evening. At one point, the chocolate fountain malfunctioned, sending a geyser of chocolate toward the ceiling—but even that just added to the charm, guests laughing and applauding as Jake and I frantically shut it down.
But I only had eyes for Sam.
She worked the room, putting out small fires, making sure the party ran smoothly.
"You're staring," she said, appearing beside me with two glasses of champagne.
"Just admiring my handiwork."
"Your handiwork?" She raised an eyebrow.
"I fed you. Kept you functional. This is basically my party."
She laughed. "God, you're arrogant."
"You like it."
"Maybe." She clinked her glass against mine. "The network’s thrilled. Already planning their Emmy speeches apparently."
"And you?"
"My phone hasn't stopped buzzing. Three inquiries already from people who want someone who can 'handle anything.'" She shook her head. "Turns out disaster management is a selling point."
"Sam! We need you for a toast!" Rory called from across the room.
Sam sighed. "I should go do that."
