“Thirty on Saturday,” Mom says without hesitation. “Right before the fireworks show. Her track record says she goes for maximum drama.”
“Mother,” I snip.
“Oh, she’s no slacker.” Emmie scoots in close on her way back to the kitchen. “I say my BFF strikes tonight.” She winks my way and I gasp. “What? You’re not one to procrastinate,” she calls out with a laugh as she takes off for the café.
I might own and run the inn, but Emmie runs the café for me. Although right about now, I’m reconsidering her employment status.
However, she’s right about that whole procrastination thing.
I love my family and friends, but sometimes I wonder if they’re actively trying to get me arrested. And other days, I wonder if I deserve to get arrested.
Mackenzie closes her eyes and takes a breath that probably has a yoga instructor’s voice attached to it somewhere. When she opens them, her smile is back and sharp enough to bite my beating heart right out of my chest.
“Just... try not to be yourself this week, okay?” She pats my shoulder. “Think bland. Think boring. Think completely and utterly forgettable.”
Bizzy is technically all of those things,she muses to herself.But I’m in no position to point that out now that I need her to play nice for the week.
“Wow. What a pep talk.”
But Mackenzie is already walking away, hips swinging, heading toward a wholenew group of women who just landed on the sand and look like they were headed to the country club.
Emmie appears at my elbow once again, this time with a tray of mini baked brie bites with raspberry jam—I’ve been sampling them all day. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she’s got flour on her sleeve. “Those are her friends?”
“Apparently.”
“They look...”
“Expensive,” I supply.
“I was going to say high maintenance, but that works, too.”
One of them, a tall blonde, throws her head back in a laugh like she runs on champagne and diamonds.
Another one, thin with ash blonde hair cut in a sharp bob, surveys the party like she’s already decided who matters and who doesn’t.
And I already know what side I fall on.
A third woman with auburn hair falling in perfect waves stands slightly apart from the group, waiting for someone to notice her.
They all look like they walked out of the same boutique, the same salon, possibly the same factory that produces people who make the rest of us feel underdressed.
“This is going to be a long week,” I mutter.
“Or a very short one,” Mom says cheerfully, “depending on how fast you can kill them all off.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“I wasn’t joking,” she counters.
The sun finally gives up and sinks below the horizon, leaving behind streaks of orange and pink rich enough to hypnotize all of Maine. Twinkle lights flicker on around thebeach and around the inn, spilling a warm, golden glow over everything.
Someone cranks the music louder for good measure.
Fish trots over and sits at my feet, her black and white fur somehow still pristine despite the beach.Bizzy, that tiny menace is unhinged. He ate seven hot dogs. Seven. I counted.
Sherlock bounds up behind her, tongue lolling, ears flopping.But he shared three with me so he’s not ALL bad.
“Aww,” I coo as I give Sherlock a quick scratch behind his ears. Sherlock Bones was a package deal when I got together with Jasper and I couldn’t have been happier with the dynamic duo. “That was very nice of him.” I give my black and white tabby a quick pat, too. “You’re supposed to be socializing,” I tell her.
