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“I’ll ask her myself,” Cam said. She figured that, while she was at it, she could ask Martina for pointers on catering the fete since the cafe owner was a veteran. “Then I’m going to town hall to go over the menu with Roxy. I’m going to take your advice and let her feel like she had input. I’ve added a couple of extra side dishes to my list, and I’ll ask her to choose among them.”

“And what about the French thing?” Birdie asked.

“Mais oui, madam!” Cam used an over-the-top accent.

Birdie cackled, and Cam felt just the littlest ray of hope. Maybe she could pull this off.

She was still feeling optimistic later in the day as she arrived at the town hall to check in with Roxy Shipman.

Alas, Cam didn’t find Roxy in a similar mood. She ventured through the large multipurpose area where the jumble sale tables looked neatly stacked and ready for business (Good job, Ginny, Cam thought) to find the mayor in a side storage room where boxes of Christmas decorations sat, half spilling out. Roxy clutched her signature clipboard in one hand and a cell phone in the other and was engaged in what Cam quickly realized was a heated conversation—at least on Roxy’s side.

“Mice!” Roxy barked into her phone, the papers in her other hand flapping dramatically. “Mice have gotten to the garlands, Brian!”

Cam didn’t know who poor Brian was, but she immediately felt sorry for him. By the accusing tone of Roxy’s voice, it sounded like the mayor of Silver Cove was personally holding him to blame for the damage caused by a band of rodents he almost certainly had no control over.

“How am I supposed to decorate for the fete without boughs of holly?” Roxy lamented, though her question came out more accusatory than it did sad as she pulled a strand of faux greenery from one of the boxes. Cam did have to admit the greenery looked bad with bare patches where the mice had feasted, giving the thing a scraggly, gnawed-on look.

“You do know how the lyrics to the song go, don’t you?” Roxy continued, finally noticing Cam and holding up a finger to indicate she would be with her in a minute. “How are we supposed to ‘deck the halls with boughs of holly’—which is the very theme of this year’s fete—without actual holly?”

Cam guessed from Roxy’s ensuing eye roll that she considered whatever answer Brian had given to be decidedly underwhelming. She braced herself, hoping that she wasn’t in for a similar chewing out, which she didn’t have the time or energy for. But hey, Cam thought, at least someone else was facing imminent disaster, too, feeling a moment of solidarity with Brian. She was completely confident in her ideas for the menu, but the execution of it? At the moment, she had no idea how she was going to pull it off. Not that she was about to let Roxy know that small detail.

“Yes, why don’t you call me back when you have a plan?” The sarcasm dripping from Roxy’s voice could have corroded metal.

The mayor punched a button on her phone and wheeled around to face Cam again, and Cam noticed that Roxy’s scarf of the day was printed with large green holly leaves against a vibrant red background. The woman clearly committed to a theme.

“Cam!” Roxy boomed. “Finally, someone reliable! I read over the menu, and I have thoughts!”

“Thoughts?” Cam asked warily. Oh God, she’s pulling an Izzy on me. She hates it all.

Roxy consulted her clipboard, which Cam briefly imagined Roxy selling at her boutique. It was the accessory that went with everything, after all.

“We’ll do the quinoa with butternut squash and kale,” she said. “And the roasted brussels sprout salad with cranberries and citrus vinaigrette.”

Whew, Cam thought, Roxy just wanted to pick from the several options of side dishes that she had included in her emailed menu. Birdie had been right, Cam realized. Roxy needed to feel like she was in charge, and giving her choices had done just that. And in the way she rattled off the dishes that she wanted, Cam had to admire her decisiveness. She liked that Roxy was not a waverer. The woman knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to say it.

“Wonderful choices,” Cam said, channeling Birdie’s diplomatic instincts and smiling approvingly.

“And I must say, I am particularly excited about the allumettes au fromage!” Roxy said.

Cam smiled wider. Another Birdie suggestion had landed. The cheese straws were going to be a hit.

“Dear,” Roxy said, clutching Cam’s upper arm with a force that surprised the younger woman, “this is going to go down in the books as the most gourmet fete in Silver Cove history! It will be a triumph!”

Cam’s relief was short-lived, and she felt the forced grin she had rigged up starting to sag. Still, she drew herself up and answered with faux confidence. “Of course it will!”

“Oh,” Cam added, relieved to have more good news to deliver. “Martina is loaning me the cafe space to prep for the dinner. We haven’t worked out the specifics, but she says I’m welcome to use her kitchen and equipment. She, ah, says hi, by the way. And she’s sorry for missing the fete.”

“That’s the perfect solution. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,” Roxy said with just the trace of a scowl, consulting her clipboard as if to soothe herself for her oversight by flipping through spreadsheets. She looked up. “And who have you lined up as your sous chef?”

Cam blinked. Hiring an assistant was just one of ten million things she hadn’t been able to think about, let alone actually accomplish. “I’m working on it,” she said brightly. “I’ve identified a few very strong candidates.”

Between bluffing to Russell and Roxy about the status of their respective projects, Cam felt she was getting disturbingly adept at bravado—if not outright lying—these days. Which wasn’t like her. She wondered, and not for the first time that day, what she had gotten herself into.

“Well, the fete is a week from tomorrow,” Roxy said with an inscrutable eyebrow raise. “I’m sure you’ll get it all settled. Now, I’ve sent you the budget. Please submit all your receipts, and the town will reimburse you right away. You can come over later this week to pick up the serving ware we keep for events, which I’ll have pulled out of storage.”

Cam could tell that line was her cue for dismissal, and she gathered her coat.

“Um, Rox, I have a weird Silver Cove history question for you.” Cam paused as she drew on a glove. “Do you know of someone who might have lived in the town in the 1920s named A. Poulson?”