Page 6 of The Hanukkah Hoax
“I’m so glad to hear it’s a beloved event. And yes, it is a ballroom affair that allows West Meadow couples to set aside the frantic holiday needs of their children and families and enjoy the romantic spirit of the season away from the chaos. A bit of Christmas magic and luxury without the need to bring a hostess gift, I like to say,” Monica replied, obviously pleased with her marketing pitch. But then her smile faltered slightly. “That is, if the anticipated turnout can meet expectations.”
Marisa took a step forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Phoebe. “Is the Ball having difficulty finding attendees?”
Monica’s elegantly manicured hand swiped away Marisa’s concern. “Oh, no. I’m sure it will all be wonderful. These things do tend to come through in the end. I was just remarking on the recreation department’s community events poll that went out to residents earlier this year. Apparently, the Christmas Ball was one of the items that had decreased in interest from the prior year. It’s all a helpful reminder to never let your marketing guard down, even when you think the vendor lists are set. What is that old movie phrase? ABC? Always be closing?” She lifted a shoulder. “The event will be spectacular, I’m sure, if slightly smaller than forecasted.”
“Perhaps I can help with that,” Phoebe chimed in. “My business has been seeing record growth this past year, so much so that I’ve been working on a new plant-exclusive line of candies and treats. If I could share with you a few of my confections for your esteemed consideration, I’m certain I could spread the good word about your event to my extensive social media following.”
Marisa’s back teeth met. “Aren’t most of your followers in New York? How many of them would be actual West Meadow residents? And this is a West Meadow event featuring local vendors, am I right, Ms. Freeland?”
Seeming to notice that Marisa had not exited the conversation, Phoebe speared her with a look and batted false lashes so long they may as well have been extensions of her middle fingers. She took in Marisa’s catering uniform and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll take a chardonnay, please. And a few of those stuffed mushroom caps I saw floating around earlier.”
“Oh, actually, Marisa is another local candy maker. Like yourself! Marisa Silver of Sweetest Heart’s Desire.” Monica clapped her hands, delighted at the opportunity to make an introduction based on only thirty seconds of information, no doubt.
A skill likely honed while Marisa and the rest of the plebs were still learning to tie shoelaces.
Then Monica’s frost-shadowed eyes brightened as a man joined her with drinks in tow. “And this is my companion, Arthur Doley. Thank you, my dear, for getting me champagne. At my age, standing next to an ice sculpture is the only way I’m able to cool down at these things.” She leaned forward and placed a hand to the side of her mouth. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but menopause can be a brutal bitch sometimes.”
Panic birthed a leaden stone in Marisa’s stomach. How the heck did he get back already?
“Monica, the Athertons wish to say hello,” Arthur announced, taking her arm and moving to pull her away from the conversation.
Marisa leapt in front of the departing pair. “Wait, before you leave, I also wanted to offer any help I can in garnering support for the Christmas Ball. I’m happy to include marketing materials with all of my business orders that go out from now until Christmas Eve, when the event takes place. They would all be local orders, of course, which I know is important to the integrity of the occasion for all those couples in attendance. I tell ya, when you’re in a relationship during the holidays, and the bulk of your time is spent taking care of others’ needs, it’s just so nice to have time for the two of you. You know, around other couples in the community who get what you’re going through.”
Marisa paused, making sure the jab landed with Phoebe right where she meant it to. Judging by the way the woman’s skirt was locked in a death grip at her sides, as if the poor fabric hadn’t suffered enough already, Marisa had definitely stuck the landing. “And at the Ball, I’ll be able to present you with an offering of what you can expect from me and Sweetest Heart’s Desire for the upcoming year, in case you know of any West Meadow referral opportunities or?—”
“Are you in a couple, then? You live in town?” Monica asked, wide eyes blinking with sincere curiosity.
And that was the moment desperation decided to make an absolute fool of Marisa.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It really shouldn’t have mattered. But when Monica’s expectant gaze was trained on her and was bright enough to spotlight every chink in Marisa’s battered armor that her family loved to exploit, as well as some they hadn’t found yet, there was only one option left.
“Yes!” she lied. “Yes, I am, and I do. I have a couple—am part of a couple. Boyfriend! Not part of a boyfriend. A whole boyfriend! I have a boyfriend. Yes, that I do. Mm-hmm. And he loves Christmas. We both do! Favorite time of year. Just can’t get enough of it. Yup.” Try as she might, she couldn’t call back the word vomit. It just kept on spewing out faster than the free booze pouring down most of the guests’ gullets.
At her side, Phoebe had gone eerily quiet, the kind of quiet predators with nothing but time on their hands adopted when they had their prey locked in their sights.
Marisa had backed herself into a corner, and somehow, Phoebe freaking knew it.
“A Christmas-obsessed candy-making team does sound like you certainly know your market. You could probably do a nice bit of holiday business with a tag team like that. Does he work with you?” Monica put a staying hand on her date’s shoulder, silently urging him for one more moment.
“Uh, he’s, well, he doesn’t work with me exactly, but . . . you could say he’s never too far away.”
Phoebe folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her brutal stare. “Is he here?”
Marisa had no idea where to look or what to say. Three sets of eyes, along with the future of her business, beseeched an explanation from her that had no hope of popping up. She toyed with the tips of her fingernails, hoping for inspiration to strike her so she might direct the conversation elsewhere. She’d take anything at that point. The dripping water from the ice sculpture. The crowd mingling around her. The masculine shadow approaching and growing beneath her feet that she hoped to God wasn’t Geoffrey coming to give her more hell.
With no conceivable way out, Marisa was about to claim defeat and confess to the misunderstanding, when Monica and her date shifted their attention above Marisa’s head and to whoever the shadow belonged to.
Marisa nearly choked on her tongue when the shadow replied, “Yes.”
Chapter 3
Leave it to Alec to make a right mess of things when he hadn’t even been in the States a week. Bloody hell. If his brother, Cal, had been at this stupid party, no doubt he’d be taking the piss out of him for terrifying the poor server with his ugly mug and ruining her evening.
Did he have to stare at her like that? Really?
Alec took a sip of his sparkling water and crunched on a piece of ice that hitched a ride with the bubbles. He regretted it instantly when one of his right molars caught the edge of the cube. The dull pain that radiated through his still-sore jaw was yet another reminder of what he’d hoped this foolish event would have taken his mind off.
Instead, the task was accomplished by, of all things, a lovely woman with curious eyes and the most adorable mouth hanging open so wide, his mate Fin could have kicked a ball clean through.
