Page 84 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“What the hell is this?” Davis whispered to Eden.
“I think we’re looking at the Beautification Committee’s fundraiser for your fire damage.”
“So, if I bought a cup of apple cider, I’d be funding my own fundraiser?”
He looked disappointed, and Eden laughed. “Are you really that big of an apple cider fan?”
“Well, yeah. But I’m not giving those pyromaniacs a dime.”
“Hot apple cider for a good cause!” Ellery screeched, scaring Mason into dropping a roll of quarters.
Eden pulled him toward the stand. “The least a girlfriend can do is buy her boyfriend a cup of apple cider on a cold night.”
“I’m not having you pay for my fire damage,” Davis argued.
“Don’t be a baby,” Eden said lightly before stepping to the front of the line. “Ellery, Mason, what brings you two out on a night like this?” Davis let out a sound that was eerily similar to a growl, and she elbowed him.
“Oh, hi, guys,” Ellery said, eyes wide and guilty. “We’re just doing some… fundraising.”
“Tell us more about this good cause,” Davis demanded. Eden stepped on his foot, and he winced.
“What good cause?” Ellery asked, batting her spider-like lashes.
“The one on your sign,” Eden said, pointing at the poster behind Mason.
For a Good Cause
“Oh,thatgood cause,” Ellery laughed nervously. “We’re uh, um. Raising funds for… you… and neighbors like you,” she added quickly. “To make our community… better.”
“Interesting,” Eden said. “Isn’t that interesting, Davis?” she asked.
He still looked mad enough to say something stupid that could ruin their entire plan. Eden ducked under his arm and cuddled into his side. “How much for a cup?” Eden asked.
“Oh, um.” Ellery blinked. “Five dollars?”
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“Ican’t believe you gave those arson-causing bastards five bucks,” Davis complained.
Eden was still laughing as he held the door to the movie theater for her. “It was worth it just to see the look on your face.” She swiped at the corners of her eyes, clearly enjoying herself. “I can throw the cider away if you want me to,” she offered.
He clutched the paper cup protectively. “No use letting it go to waste.”
Town meetings were one of the things he’d missed the most when he’d moved away. The smell of the movie theater popcorn, the press of bodies dressed in bib overalls and decades-old tie-dye. It had all seemed normal to him growing up, debating socially acceptable behavioral standards that would never be up for public discussions anywhere else in the country.
Moving to California for school and then work had given Davis some much needed distance. And with that distance came an even deeper appreciation for his hometown. Romantic, fading frescos decorated the ceiling held up by painted pillars. There was a podium, flanked by folding chairs on the skinny strip of stage in front of the heavy velvet curtain.
After a quick stop at the concession stand, he guided Eden to the right-hand side of the stage. “The acoustics are better over here,” he told her.
She shot him a funny look that turned to pure lust after he handed her a snack pack of chocolate coconut granola, her favorite in high school. They settled into the third and fourth seats from the aisle, just out of the draft of the overhead vent. He knew this theater, knew this town inside out. He’d been more than ready to come home before his father’s heart attack gave him the reason.
“You look like you’re about to watch your favorite movie,” Eden commented, popping a handful of colorful candy into her mouth.
Conversation buzzed around them as neighbors caught up with each other despite the fact that most of them had seen each other earlier that day. It was a small town, impossibly close-knit. Which was both a blessing and a curse.
“This is my kind of entertainment,” he told her. “Beckett’s going to get up there and announce something ridiculous, and then seventy-two of his constituents are going to have questions and even more ridiculous solutions. It’s better than any movie.”
Eden chuckled at his enthusiasm. Davis used her good mood to sneak a coconut cluster from her hand.
