BOOK CLUB 4 EVER
“The Lonely Hearts Book Club is now in session.”
I shimmy my shoulders a bit and tap the end of my pen against the clipboard resting in my lap, giddy to start our meeting this month. I’m always excited for our book club, but now that the forum is behind me, this meeting is my chance to focus our efforts on finalizing plans for the Valentine’s Day fundraiser coming up in a few short weeks. And, you know, discuss our latest read. But first things first.
As I look around at the four other core members, I know they share my excitement. There’s Lauren and Dorothy, of course. They’re both sitting next to each other on the couch. Lauren is leaning forward, grabbing a handful of conversation hearts from the dish on the table. She seems ready to get started. Dorothy nurses her glass of white wine. Aubrey Woolf, the quietest of our group, sits cross-legged and attentive on the carpet beneath them. And Charlotte Austin—Charlie for short—is sprawled between the armrests of the overstuffed chair in the corner as she nonchalantly twirls a strand of her platinum-blonde hair around a finger. But I know she’s enthusiastic, too. We all are. I can feel it.
Too bad the energy in the room is abruptly deflated by the loud, amused snort that comes from the kitchen.
I close my eyes and draw in a long, slow breath. I let it back out through pursed lips. “Was there something you needed, Harrison?” I ask my younger brother, loud enough for my voice to carry from the living room.
In an irritated gesture, he pushes his glasses up his nose. “No, Cora .” He has the audacity to say my name as if I’m the one interrupting him. And then, because he can’t help himself, he adds, “It’s just such a ridiculous name for a book club.”
“Give me strength,” I mutter.
Charlie snickers from her place on the armchair. I give her a pointed look, but she simply shrugs and goes back to twisting her hair.
While we all grew up in Heartsong, California, Harrison moved away right after college. He had a good job, a nice house, and a fiancée in the Midwest. He and I had never been overly close. It’s hard to bond when your parents have left the responsibility of raising him up to you. But when he showed up unannounced on my doorstep two months ago looking like a lost puppy with one small suitcase on the ground next to him, I motioned him inside, no questions asked.
He still hasn’t told me much about why he’s here, but he hasn’t left, either. And as much as I love him, his snark is starting to get on my last nerve.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to bring us back to the topic at hand. “We’ll get to Love in the Time of Cholera in a minute, but I want to go over everyone’s roles for the fundraiser first.” I hold up my clipboard as a visual. “As you know, this year, the funds are going to help our animal shelter.”
“Are we not going to touch on your show down with Mayor Skinny Jeans?” Charlie interrupts, one eyebrow raised.
“They were slacks,” Dorothy notes. “I checked.”
“No.” I brush my hair off my shoulder and straighten my spine. “What’s done is done. It’s up to the council now. Dwelling on it will only stress me out.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Harrison sing-songs.
The clipboard slaps my thighs as I drop it and turn to glare at my brother. “Did you need something, Harry?”
He just rolls his eyes and chomps down on a piece of gouda.
“Anywho,” Lauren interjects. She scoots forward so she’s perched on the very edge of the couch and flips a lock of her long, brown hair over her shoulder. “The winery will be running donation-based wine tastings this year.” Her many gold bangles jingle as her body practically vibrates with excitement. “I know this is different from what we’ve done in the past, but we have some new wines we want to showcase, and what better way to do it?”
Featuring Alcott Family wines is a no-brainer on about a thousand different levels. Good for her family, good for the town, good for tourism. While this is technically a community event that I volunteer to organize, I can’t help but think of the benefits to my day job. I take a sip of my own delicious pinot before setting it back on the coffee table in front of me. It’s definitely a bonus that she provides the wine for book club every month.
“That sounds great.” I make a note of the change on my clipboard. “Dorothy, are you and the staff at Sugar on Top okay to include hors d’oeuvres in the catering line up again? Sturge says it really elevated the event last year.” I mock my curmudgeonly boss in an affected tone that earns another snort from Charlie.
“Yep.” Dorothy nods vigorously, her wine glass dangerously close to spilling over onto her navy cable-knit sweater. “Katie, Juan, Dave, and Ernesto have all confirmed their availability, so we should have enough people to circulate. And, of course, I’ll be there.”
I make more notes as I talk. “I think last year we had pigs in a blanket, crab cakes, and eggrolls.”
“And the heart cookies,” Aubrey chimes in. “Don’t forget the heart cookies.”
“Those crab cakes did not sit well with me.” Charlie grimaces at the memory while spreading her hand over her stomach.
“Can’t imagine they would,” Harrison chimes in. I turn around to see him leaning against the entryway between the living room and the kitchen, munching on something. From a glance at the plate he’s holding, it would appear he has helped himself to the charcuterie I laid out for the book club.
“I’m sorry. Would you like to join us?” I ask sarcastically.
He shakes his head as he pops a piece of cured meat into his mouth. “No, I’m good,” he says around the bite.
I fight an eye roll as I turn back around to face the group, but judging by the crunching that comes next, he hasn’t moved.
“Okay.” I cross off crab cakes on my list. “No crab cakes.”
“Deviled eggs are good,” Harrison suggests.
I twist in my seat to face him again. “Do you want to plan this, or can I do my job here?”
Dorothy gets up from her seat clutching her now-empty wine glass. As she passes Harrison, she pinches his cheek. Hard, based on his resulting wince. “Anything for sweet Harrison.” She releases him and continues to the kitchen on her quest for more wine.
“Oh, we have a beautiful sauvignon blanc that would pair well with deviled eggs,” Lauren offers.
“I like deviled eggs,” Charlie says helpfully. She lowers her voice to add, “Less likely to give you food poisoning, too.”
“I’m old, but I’m not deaf!” Dorothy calls from the kitchen.
I write out deviled eggs on my list of menu items, then jump at a sudden, loud crunching sound in my right ear. Harrison has leaned over the back of the loveseat, and his head is right next to mine as he reads over my shoulder.
“You might want to increase the number of cookies. I hear this year is going to be Heartsong’s best-attended fundraiser yet.” He points a greasy finger at my list.
“Oh my God ,” I groan. “Stay or leave, man.”
“Join us, Harrison,” Lauren pleads, her tone much kinder than mine. She’s clearly trying to diffuse the tension between us, like she’s done since we were kids.
“Yeah, stick around,” Charlie says. “I mean, you’re already eating our food.”
“And he’s in the group chat,” Aubrey pipes in helpfully.
Harrison straightens and shrugs, coming around to the couch. “I guess I have an hour or two to spare.”
I stare at him incredulously as he sits in the seat that used to be occupied by Dorothy. He guesses? The man has done nothing but mope around in his room and eat my food for the past two months.
Dorothy comes back in, slowly shuffling her feet so as to avoid spilling her wine, which she has filled to the absolute brim with something red. I hold my breath until she sits in a folding chair closer to the coffee table. She takes a big gulp, then sets the glass down.
“The kids are really excited about their pageant this year,” Aubrey says, once the threat of a red wine stain has passed. The daycare kids at her school always put together a cute show. It’s one of everyone’s favorite traditions.
“What’s the theme this year?” Charlie asks.
“80s love songs,” Aubrey answers with a sly grin. “A few are even going to lip sync power ballads. Landry has a mullet wig and everything.”
I make another note, smiling. “That’s going to be amazing.” I chew on the end of my pen as I flip to the next page.
“Charlie, do you have a job this year?” Lauren asks. “I could use some help serving the wines.”
“Nope.” She pops her P.
I consult my list for things she could do. “Do you want a different job?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Oh, come on, Charlie,” Aubrey whines. “You never take a job, and it’s so much fun. You can help with the kids this year if you want!”
Charlie wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Ew. No. I don’t do kids. My job is to show up and spend money.” She points at me. “You know I’m your biggest donor every year, Cora. I’ll donate even more this year because it’s for the animal shelter. You know how much I love animals. If you occupy me too much, I won’t be able to spend anything.”
I hum in consideration. She’s not wrong. For as little as she wants to participate in town events, she is one of Heartsong’s best supporters, and apparently her paint-and-sip studio does well enough that she can afford it. But there is one thing she could do this year. I look up from my list, my face breaking into a suggestive grin.
“No,” Charlie says again, drawing an imaginary circle around my expression. “Whatever it is that is making your face do that, the answer is no.”
“We’re doing the date auction again this year,” I say.
“Absolutely not,” she reiterates.
“You could support the town and keep your money.” My head tips forward and my eyebrows raise.
“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars if you stop asking me to do this, and I’ll still call it a tax write-off.”
“But you’re single and ready to mingle!” I protest. “Maybe someone hot will bid on you, and you’ll fall in love.”
“Every person in this room is single,” Charlie states. “Except Dorothy.”
“I’d still do it, though.” Dorothy raises her wine glass in a toast and takes another long drink. She covers her mouth and lets out a small burp. “You need me? I’m in.”
I ignore this. “Everyone else has jobs. They’ll be busy. You won’t,” I reason.
Harrison clears his throat. “How many times does the woman need to say no, Cora?”
I turn to him. “Are you going to be at all helpful?”
“I’m trying to be,” he says. “Well, this time, I am. She doesn’t want to. Leave her alone.”
“Come on,” I whine. “It would be perfect. And you could even set it up with someone to bid on you so you don’t end up going on a date with some random person.”
Charlie squints one eye shut and tips her head back and forth, considering. Her gaze lands on Harrison, then back on me. “If I do this, I’m not spending a dime of my own money,” she warns me.
I bounce in my seat in premature excitement. “Of course.”
“And I’m going to be perpetually sick and unable to reschedule if some creepy dude bids on me,” she adds.
“I’d expect nothing less.”
She tips her head back to the ceiling. “Fine,” she groans. “I’ll do it.”
I happily write down Charlie’s name under the list of date auction candidates before officially kicking off our discussion of this month’s book. Harrison grunts, then gets up to refill his plate. Lauren, Aubrey, and Dorothy do a toast with their wine glasses. I sigh in contentment. I love this town. I love my job. I love this fundraiser. I love our book club.
Harrison was right. This is shaping up to be the best fundraiser yet.