Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Audrey placed her hands on her hips and leaned backward, stretching her back. Her hands, covered in big leather gloves, felt comically oversized.
I’ll have to go to the store to get myself a nice pair of gardening gloves, she thought, looking down at her hands with a chuckle.
I’ve been so busy with everything else that it seemed like the kind of thing I didn’t have time for.
Besides, oversized or not, it’s been sweet to be able to wear Dad’s gloves like this.
It makes me feel like he’s a part of this project somehow.
Her father’s projects, when he was alive, had consisted mainly of woodworking but had also included some gardening.
She’d found his old leather gloves in the shed, and it had been clear from the amount of dirt that was still caked to the fingers that he’d used the gloves for gardening.
She’d used them a few times already, although the delicate work she was doing that day made the clumsy fingers of the gloves difficult to work with.
She’d been planting flowers in the gardens, adding to the roses, black-eyed Susans, and larkspur that were already in full bloom.
She’d added a row of marigolds and pansies to the edge of the flower beds, and her next task was to fill the flower boxes that hung under the front windows of The Birchwood House.
For the window boxes, she’d chosen geraniums, petunias, and zinnias. She thought they looked gorgeous, sitting there in their little black plastic pots, and she couldn’t wait to give them a new home in front of the house.
Audrey had always loved gardening. Although it was difficult, tricky work, she’d always found the scent of the soil exciting, and the prospect of success invigorating.
She’d had plenty of failures when she’d first started out, but she’d managed to change her thumb from a regular one to a decently green one.
She was even happier gardening that morning than she usually was. It was thrilling to have reached the point where she and her mother and daughter were putting the finishing touches on the hotel.
It feels amazing to be at this point, she thought. Not only is it fun to be getting ready for the grand opening, but preparing The Birchwood House for the judging of the contest feels so exciting.
She looked around the picturesque yard and up at the beautiful old house and smiled. Her heart felt light as she contemplated the future. She felt as if she could see a clear pathway stretching out in front of her, and she thought to herself that it was all going to be smooth sailing.
“Audrey!”
She heard someone call her name from the sidewalk and she turned around curiously. A moment later her face lit up with a huge smile.
“Evan!” she said, taking off the gloves and hurrying toward him. “What a pleasant surprise.”
He welcomed her enthusiastic embrace, but as soon as they pulled away from the hug, she noticed a pensive look on Evan’s face and her smile faded.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, touching his arm in concern.
Evan sighed, and she could sense that he was debating whether or not to talk with her about something.
“Is something the matter?” she asked.
Evan shook his head. “I don’t want you to fret, but I do think you should know about this. I’m sure you’ll find out about it one way or another, so you might as well find out about it from me.”
“What is it?” she asked nervously. Her heart began to beat faster.
Evan pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a few times. “I came across this article earlier today,” he said. “Why don’t we sit on the porch together and you can read it?”
Feeling troubled, Audrey followed Evan to the front porch.
They sat down next to each other on the porch swing and he handed her his phone.
She started to read the article as quickly as she could, wondering what on earth was going on.
She felt inclined to fear some kind of disaster, but she reminded herself that Evan appeared moderately concerned, not actually distraught.
The article was about the Up-and-Coming Business Sponsorship Contest and all of the local businesses who had entered.
The first half of the article seemed simply positive to her.
It described the businesses that were involved in the contest in glowing terms, including The Birchwood House.
The article described the hotel as “an important historical site hyped up to make one think that it contains storybook levels of elegance.”
She glanced at Evan curiously, wondering what the problem was. She was starting to feel relieved… until she saw the way he gravely shook his head. “Keep reading,” he told her.
Swallowing, she continued the article. A moment later, she stopped and stared at her screen in disbelief. “What on earth?” she stammered. “Where did they get that picture of you fixing our broken window? I didn’t take it, and Mom and Michelle were going shopping while you were doing it.”
Evan shook his head. “I don’t know who took it. Apparently, what you’re about to read was already in that person’s mind, though, or I don’t think they would have bothered to snap a picture.”
Frowning, Audrey returned to the article.
To her dismay, it began to describe how Evan had been helping with The Birchwood House in many ways, “improving its features both in the tangible world and online.” With a hint of snarkiness, the article hinted that Evan, who was rumored to be an influential judge in the contest, had a bias as to who should win it.
Audrey’s stomach dropped, and she felt stung when she realized that the words, “an important historical site hyped up to make one think that it contains storybook levels of elegance” wasn’t actually the compliment that she’d thought it was.
What had seemed like a genuinely positive description now seemed like a manipulative comment meant to spread doubt.
“Hyped up” and “storybook” now looked condescending to her, as did the implication that Evan had “improved the features” of The Birchwood House online.
Audrey shook her head, saddened that anyone observing what was happening in Coral Sands could have misread the situation so unfairly.
She wondered if another person entering the contest had felt threatened and had started rumors about the subject, and she tried to be sympathetic instead of upset.
Intentional meanness had always rattled her deeply, however, and this was no exception.
Evan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a warm hug that immediately made her feel better.
“How could anyone think that?” she asked, her face half-buried in his shoulder. “Why would it be suspicious that you’re working on the hotel? You did that because you’re my boyfriend. And we were seeing each other before the contest, so I would think people would realize that.”
“You’re right, but I’m sure some people see our relationship as an advantage for you,” he said.
“They probably think I am biased toward you.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead, and she felt almost grateful that the article had been written because it had led her and Evan into such a tender moment.
“And the truth is, I am most of the time. But when I’m involved in contests, I’m careful not to let my personal feelings cloud my judgment.
I commend people and things based on how well they score on a rubric of pre-established guidelines.
I’m going to do the same for this contest.”
Audrey couldn’t help chuckling to hear him speak so formally and earnestly. If there was anyone in the world who could put aside their personal feelings and judge fairly, it was her extremely conscientious boyfriend.
“I know you will, but other people can’t know that, at least not really,” Audrey said, sighing.
“I can understand why people who don’t know us might think that you’re going to show favoritism, but—” She shook her head, pressing her lips together.
“I just don’t understand how people in Coral Sands would think that you would do that.
Or that Mom and Michelle and I would let you.
” She felt her heart sink, and she wondered if the excitement of the competition had been permanently tainted for her.
She didn’t want anyone to think that Evan was going to judge the contest using bias.
And what if we win? she thought. Up until this moment, I really, really wanted to.
But now if we win, people will say that it’s because Evan turned things in our favor and it wasn’t a fair judgment.
I don’t want those kind of rumors circulating about the hotel.
So I don’t want to win. And what’s the point of being in a competition if you don’t want to win it?
“Do you think we should withdraw from the contest?” she asked, sitting up so she could look Evan in the eye.
Evan shook his head, smiling reassuringly at her. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he told her. “Things like this tend to be forgotten soon enough. Unless—” He paused and frowned slightly.
“What?” she prompted, trying not to be upset by the whole thing but feeling her stomach slosh with disappointment anyway.
“I just hope these rumors won’t become worse,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, I have helped you out a lot. Most of it I did long before I even thought about suggesting that you enter the contest, but people might speculate that things happened differently.”
Audrey sighed, feeling unsettled by the whole situation. Evan clearly sensed her discomfort and smiled warmly at her.
“Come on,” he said, standing up and tugging her to her feet. “Let’s go finish planting those flowers in the window boxes. Looks like a fun project.”
She smiled back at him, feeling excited about him helping her. When she was halfway down the porch steps, however, she paused.
“Oh no,” she said, as she was struck with a thought. “What if people see you helping me with the flowers, and they think you’re being unfair about the contest again?”
He shook his head firmly, his expression grave. “If I see any paparazzi, I’ll run.” His expression changed suddenly to an impish one, and he picked up a trowel that was lying on the lawn and ran around the side of the house with it.
Audrey laughed until her side hurt—and by that time, Evan had returned, perspiring slightly around the temples and also laughing.
I never would have thought, when I’d first met him and he was being so fussy, that we would have a day like this together, she thought. Whatever happens with the contest, in the long run, it doesn’t matter. Evan’s my guy, and I’ve got The Birchwood House, and my wonderful mother and daughter.
“You ready?” he asked her, holding up a pot of geraniums.
“Absolutely,” she said, and they shared an enthusiastic kiss.