Page 18 of A Fall to Remember

“Anything. Talk about the lunch specials or what you’re looking forward to seeing in the parade.” Shelby circled her hand, encouraging Miranda.

“Our lunch special today is a tomato basil soup that we make with locally sourced heirloom tomatoes and herbs grown at one of the nearby organic farms. It’s a family recipe and always a hit with our customers.” Miranda felt stiff again. It was easier, more natural to film with Jim.

“Great. Check it out.” Shelby offered Miranda her phone to show her the video.

Jim peered over her shoulder as she blinked twice, barely recognizing the woman on the screen. Every laugh line and tiny wrinkle was gone, replaced by an airbrushed image. Her skin looked ten—maybe twenty years—younger. She could have passed for Elise’s older sister. Her cheeks were dewy, perfectly contoured, and shimmered unnaturally. Even her lashes appeared to be twice their normal size.

“No. This isn’t right,” Jim said, giving his head a firm shake. “We don’t need extra filters. Miranda is gorgeous as she is, and remember, we’re going for relatable. This makes her look like a Kardashian.”

“Okay, the Kardashians are the OG influencers. They’ve been around for like twenty years and still earn over two million dollars for a single social media post. Trust me, that’s not what I want for you either. We’re going for relatable, yet aspirational,” Shelby corrected. “Everyone uses filters like this, Miranda,” she said, ignoring Jim’s hovering. “You are beautiful, but this way we don’t have to worry about continuity,” she said to Miranda. “Let’s say it gets hot this afternoon. If we auto-correct with a soft filter like this, no one will see so much as a bead of sweat on your forehead. It’s easier to maintain a consistent brand image. Just like with the photos of downtown.”

“I understand, but honestly, I don’t even recognize myself. There’s so much lip filler, it looks like I was stung by a bee,” Miranda said, handing Shelby the phone. She did understand where Shelby was coming from, but she agreed with Jim. Using a filter that made her unrecognizable wasn’t authentic. “I don’t feel comfortable. I understand what you’re saying about making it easier and consistent, but I’d prefer to skip the makeup filter.”

Jim jumped in. “I’m with Miranda. We lose credibility instantly if her audience is questioning whether she’s had cosmetic work done. I have to put my foot down on this one and say no.”

“Fine. Okay. I’m just trying to capture an aesthetic,” Shelby said. “It’s nothing against you or a statement on your age, Miranda. Even teen influencers use filters like this.”

“Right, but we’re not trying to appeal to a teen or beauty influencer audience,” Jim said with a worried frown before Miranda even had a chance to respond. His smile faded as he knitted his brows together and held his hand out in protest. “She’s perfect, just as she is.”

Miranda had clear boundaries and could advocate for herself, but she couldn’t deny that Jim felt a bit like a knight in shining armor coming to her defense like that.

Perfect, just as she is?

Her entire body warmed, like she was having a hot flash.

He thought she was perfect?

She knew that was far from true. She just wished she could get a better read on Jim. Did he really think she was doing well in this newfound role? Or was he a nice guy who was trying to salvage her feelings because he was personally invested in making the campaign a success?

15

JIM

Jim had to tread carefully. He could tell he was getting under Shelby’s skin, but a ridiculous makeup filter that made Miranda look like she belonged on the set of The Real Housewives? Fake lips. Spray tan? Cheekbones sunken in like Skeletor? No way. He had to draw a line there. Technically, he had more seniority. He wasn’t interested in playing that card, but he would when he needed to, and this was one of those moments.

“I’ll take these outside,” he said, grabbing the chairs he had set down.

Pete was setting up more chairs in a rectangle they’d drawn from the curb to the edge of the sidewalk. The street was humming with activity, and the afternoon was hitting the trees, casting golden shadows on the leaves and ground.

“Where do you want these?” Jim asked.

“You can set them up on the other side of the bench,” Pete said, pointing to the permanent bench flanked by a vibrant red Japanese maple on one side and an antique lamppost on the other. “Thanks for your help.”

Jim couldn’t believe how many people had already filled both sides of the street. Chairs, blankets, and wagons lined the sidewalks. Families had packed snacks and cool drinks. School must have gotten out early for the parade because groups of teens and tweens gathered together, decked out in Half Moon Bay High School gear.

Vendors roamed the empty street with orange and yellow cotton candy, pumpkin balloons, and light-up wands. A vintage tricycle biked back and forth with a boom box tethered to the back, blasting tunes. The air was crisp and warm, tinged with the aroma of sea salt, popcorn, and caramel apples. Happy chatter filled the streets.

“It’s already hopping.” Jim did a shimmy, dancing to the beat of the music. To call it dancing was generous. He’d never had good rhythm, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

“This is nothing,” Pete said, securing blue painter’s tape to an ancient oak tree on the corner and then stretching it to the bench to rope off their section. “Give it another thirty minutes and the crowd will double.”

“We should probably film your mom soon, then.” Jim glanced inside, where Miranda and Shelby were deep in conversation. It was probably best to let Shelby have a minute. He was concerned about her. Taking the job seriously was one thing, but if she kept going like this, she would burn herself out—fast. He couldn’t put his finger on what had made Shelby change and become so intensely hyper-focused on her career in the last year, but something had. She was constantly sneaking off to take phone calls during meetings and seemed on edge, like she thought she was being watched.

He tried to bring it up gently a couple of times, but she had stayed tight-lipped. It was awkward because he got the sense she needed someone to talk to, a listening ear. He would gladly be that for her. He’d had enough life experience to understand that you needed balance, but Shelby continued to see him as competition or at least a roadblock in her path, despite his constant attempts to assure her that nothing could be further from the truth. He sighed as he tore his gaze away from the window and checked in with Pete. “Would you mind me asking you a few questions about what it was like to grow up in Half Moon Bay and maybe record some short clips? Nothing major. What it was like with your mom, your dad, friends, that sort of thing.”

“Me?” Pete recoiled slightly, as if he was disturbed by the mere suggestion. “Why would you want clips of me?”

“To flesh out Miranda’s world. I’d like to get some sweet little snippets from your cousin, too, maybe some of the staff at the Green Grocer, and community members. We want to show everyone what a vital part of Half Moon Bay she is.” Jim motioned for Pete to scoot a bit to the left so that he could frame the video with the activity in the street behind him. “I have some wonderful clips from this morning to work into our official introduction. Your mom is such a natural with people.”