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I raced outside, gathering my coffee with no potential job prospects, and walked straight to Thea’s shop at the far end of Main Street.
While the leaves hadn’t yet changed colors, the prospect of leaf peepers hung in the air. The downtown shops had put out darling little signs hoping to woo tourists with a cute saying and the promise of handcrafted trinkets to bring home.
Thea’s shop was no exception. She had painted red and orange trees on the giant windowpanes and posed various antiques on the other side. Someone had even swept the sidewalk clean and painted the entrance red. Thea, probably. Her only employee, Mrs. Evans, had to be at least seventy and barely shuffled out from behind the register most days. She’d even repaired the tiny bell above the door; it dinged jauntily as I entered.
Mrs. Evans jolted in her chair behind the cash register, her eyes furiously blinking away sleep. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs. Evans,” I said with a wave. “I’m just here to see Thea.”
“Thea?” She squinted, searching her chest for her reading glasses and pulling them onto her nose. “She’s in her office, dear.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping around the counter and into the back room.
I pushed open the door to Thea’s workshop and stepped into possibly my favorite place in Franklin Notch.
Unlike the overstuffed antique shop Thea kept in memory of her grandmother, her workshop was a direct reflection of Thea herself: retro and chic. She’d cobbled it together for years, searching endlessly for the perfect red plush couch and the exact shade and weight for the curtains. A tiny hexagonal box stood in front of three angled mirrors—where Thea created gorgeous clothing.
She sat behind the round Jacobean desk we’d unearthed in a store by the beach, cat-eye glasses on her nose and a frown on her lips. She looked up as I entered, her frown melting into a smile.
“Hey, Nora. What are you doing here?”
I held up the coffee. “Thought I’d stop by and say hi.”
“That’s so sweet, but shouldn’t you be at work?” Her smile faltered.
“I got fired. Last night, actually.” I padded across the plush white carpenter and handed her a latte, sitting opposite her in the emerald green leather chair.
She stood, hurrying around the desk as fast as her tight skirt would allow and wrapping her arms around me. “Oh, Nora, I’m so sorry.” She let me go long enough to drag a chair beside me. “Do you need a job? Mrs. Evans is going on vacation next week. I was going to work the front desk, but I could hire you instead.”
“That’d be great.” I took a sip of my coffee and sucked in a breath. “That’s actually why I’m here. You’re not the first person to offer me a job.”
She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. “I’m not? Well, with tourist season about to ramp up, I guess everyone’s looking for extra hands.”
“It’s notthatkind of job.”
“What kind of job is it? Because I don’t think Len will like it if you sign up for OnlyFans.”
I gasped. “No. Not that either.”
At least OnlyFans was honest. Andy’s proposal was much more complicated than uploading pictures onto the Internet.
“Well, you have my attention. Spill it.” Thea wriggled to the edge of her seat, her eyes locked on mine.
I stuttered for the right words. “Well, it was Andy…”
Her nose wrinkled, disappointment flooding her face. “If this is a job at his gym, then I’m not as excited. That’s not exactly hot gossip.”
“No, not his gym.” I winced, opting to drop the news like ripping off a Band-Aid. “He asked me to marry him.”
Her eyes widened and she sat back in her seat. The latte in her hand shook. Not wanting to risk it falling and staining the carpet, I scooped it out of her hand and set it on the table.
Thea sucked in a breath. “He asked to marry you? When? How? What?”
“Not an actual marriage,” I said, laying a placating hand on hers. “He said he could use someone to pretend to be his wife—someone to attend meetings and weekend retreats with him. He’s not great around new investors, or their spouses, for that matter. I’d be doing the same job I did for Gary, just as his wife rather than his assistant.”
That had been the excuse he’d made up the night before, anyway. Hearing it out of my mouth, it didn’t sound nearly as convincing.
“And what’s he doing for you?”
