Page 97 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“Oh, no.”

“Yes.”

“I’m doomed. This is over. Tell my niece or nephew that I love them dearly but had to move to another country and change my name.”

“Bit dramatic.”

“Fine. Another state and a haircut. I’m flexible in a crisis.”

She scoffs. “You’ll be fine.”

“I need damage control.”

“Fine,” Winnifred says, though her voice suggests she has filed that away in a mental cabinet labeled Daisy is doomed, but in an interesting way. “Who knows this is fake?”

“Mark, his agent, and Bea.”

Bea raises her hand, then realizes Winnifred can’t see her and says, “Present.”

“Hi, Bea,” Winnifred says. “Nice to finally meet the owner of the most amazing coffee shop. One day, I’m visiting your shop instead of Winterberry Cove.”

“It’s cozier,” I say.

“Less likely to involve blood feuds,” Bea adds then says, “Hello, fake-dating survivor.”

“You told her?” Winnifred asks me. “It’s supposed to be a secret and for the record, I prefer fake-dating scholar.”

“Noted,” Bea replies.

I glare at the ceiling. “Can we please focus?”

Winnifred clears her throat. “Right. First rule of small-town gossip: never give them too much detail.”

“I love detail.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you not to.”

“That feels personal.”

“It’s practical. Detail is where lies go to die,” she says. “Details are where aunts find loose threads and pull until you’re standing naked in front of a punch bowl.”

“My worst nightmare,” I sigh. “Mostly because I have at least three aunts who would comment on my posture.”

Winnifred continues, “Your story needs to be simple enough to repeat and boring enough not to investigate.”

“Boring?”

“Mostly true,” she clarifies. “That’s the trick. Don’t build a whole lie. Use what’s already there.”

I reach for my notebook from the shelf where I stashed it after yesterday’s contract negotiations. “Okay. Mostly true.”

“How did it start?”

“The coffee shop where I work,” I say. “Early March.”

“Mid-February,” Bea interrupts. “He was avoiding the Valentine’s Day sale display. It annoyed you.”

“Good, you have a witness,” Winnifred says. “Then what?”