Page 43 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“Perfect!” Eden hustled across the lobby, gifts and flowers in tow. She dashed down the hall and came to a screeching halt in the doorway to the sunroom. Snack time was underway, and Davis Gates, her sworn enemy, her high school nemesis, was pouring wine and plating cookies like it was his job.
He was charming the small weekday crowd with Blue Moon stories.
His gaze flitted to the door and found her. While Mr. Tottingham stuck his snoot in a sample of merlot and called it “passable,” Davis gave Eden a little smile and an “I’ve got this” wave off.
She didn’t have time to argue. The front door bell tinkled, announcing new guests. Eden dashed upstairs, praying that Sunny would take her usual ten minutes of chatting and spacing out to check them in. She burst into the room and placed the flowers and gifts just so on the table in the front window. Impossible to miss.
Eden gave the suite a cursory glance. It smelled lightly of lemons, clean and fresh. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed. The towels in the bathroom were folded wrong. Wrong but still acceptable.
What caught her attention was the towel on the vanity. Davis had fashioned it into a heart. It was thoughtful, sweet, and not at all what she expected from the man.
* * *
BEAUTIFICATION COMMITTEE GUIDELINES
SECTION IVXII: LEGAL AND MORAL RAMIFICATIONS OF MEDDLING IN CITIZENS’ LIVES
While the Beautification Committee prefers to operate beyond the law, it is important that certain societal and legal guidelines are at least recognized if not followed to the letter. The quest for true love can’t always be defined within the scope of what’s “legal.”
(Unrelated Editor’s Note: Beautification Committee President Bruce Oakleigh would like to take this moment to remind committee members that no committee business should be discussed outside the committee, including any written comments about ignoring the law.)
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The balloons were purple. The linens were pink. Trays of delicate frosted cupcakes and cookies decorated the buffet. The manicurists were set up in the corner of the sunporch armed with polishes and removers and ear plugs should the noise level become a problem. There was a glittering tiara at the head of the table waiting for the guest of honor. The music was poppy and kid friendly. And the dogs had been turned outside for a romp… far away from the nose-height baked goods.
Not a single detail had been overlooked.
Eden surveyed the sun porch with satisfaction. Miss Aurora Decker, daughter and stepdaughter to Gia and Beckett Pierce, was in for quite the birthday celebration.
She’d chosen a Sunday afternoon tea party for a dozen of her closest friends as her official celebration. The family party had taken place the day before.
Gia referred to it as Birthdaypalooza and announced that she had every intention of locking herself in her lady cave with an entire bottle of wine tonight to celebrate it all being over.
Eden might do the same. It had been a hectic week with her unintended guest and business as usual at the inn. Fortunately, Davis had left the inn this morning, and she didn’t expect him back until later this evening. Not that she was keeping track of his schedule. She was still avoiding him.
Mainly because she was worried she might choke on the words “thank you.” And also because of the whole “pack of rabid matchmakers breathing down their neck” thing. Eden had lived in Blue Moon all her life and was aware of the B.C.’s striking list of victories. Whether it was magic or hypnotic suggestion, she wasn’t going to get close enough to Davis to find out why the B.C. was so successful.
Thankfully, the inn was a Davis-free afternoon. Just what she needed.
“Wow, Eden. You’ve outdone yourself.” Mayor and town attorney Beckett Pierce, in his version of Sunday casual—dockers and a button down, hauled an armful of gift bags into the room.
“Thank you. Where’s our woman of the hour?” Eden asked.
“She’s with Gianna. I gracefully bowed out of driving half a dozen seven- and eight-year-olds over,” he confessed.
“Chickened out, you mean,” Eden teased.
“Gianna gets her bottle of wine and foot rub tonight. I got my quiet five-minute car ride.”
From the grin on his face, Eden gathered that Beckett was looking forward to giving that foot rub tonight.
She directed him to the gift table and started pouring waters in thick goblets that she’d chosen with clumsy kid hands in mind.
Guests began to trickle in. Girls in frilly pink, reluctant-looking boys, and of course Aurora herself. She arrived wearing a feather boa and a tutu worn over star leggings. Her red curls exploded off of her head in a display of independence that said, “No, I didn’t brush my hair for my own party.”
“Bucket!” Aurora skipped over to Beckett and launched herself at him.
“Shortcake!” Beckett hefted his stepdaughter into the air despite having seen her minutes ago.
