Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
T he Winter Festival always began downtown with merchants who opened their doors and set out candy, drinks, or treats for everyone to enjoy. When Georgette was little, she remembered it being so magical, with hot chocolate, popcorn balls, frosted sugar cookies, and live music. This year the deli set out a bowl of mints and the consignment shop had a thermos of watery cocoa from a mix. The bait and tackle shop was the only downtown shop to go all out with cookies and warm spiced tea, but it was offset by the smell of dead fish and “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” played on repeat. Times were hard, Georgie knew, but now the pressure was even greater on her and the other innkeepers to deliver a magical experience.
Or maybe the experience was magical for everyone but Georgette, who wandered the downtown alone, feeling bereft. Cotton and Elyse were somewhere in the crowd, and her brother was on duty, making certain no one became rowdy. But it wasn’t the lack of their presence that made Georgie feel so alone; it was Burke. He’d been MIA since their last conversation. Did he still live in her attic? Georgie thought so, despite any evidence that he remained. Private as he was, she still didn’t think he would move out without a word. But the fact that he had obviously been avoiding her was intensely painful, especially because she was certain she’d hurt his feelings. That increased her guilt, guilt that felt unbearable in light of his generosity.
For tonight she wanted to put everything from her mind but the festival. She’d worked so hard getting ready for the event that she’d barely slept the last two days and, she realized as she unwrapped a mint, she’d forgotten to eat all day. Now that she remembered she felt shaky with low blood sugar, a fact that did nothing to stem her anxiety. Why oh why had she told Burke about her “boyfriend,” if such a label could be applied to the man she knew only as Siggy, the nameless, faceless person she’d been texting for so many months. On the other hand, why was Burke so bothered by the information? He had never hinted that he had any interest in her, more than friendship. If he didn’t want her to be with anyone else, why hadn’t he claimed her for himself?
Someone touched Georgie’s arm and she realized someone had been trying to get her attention. She whirled, heart in her throat, deliriously hopeful it might be Burke.
“Georgie, we’re so excited to see the inn,” Annabell Adler, one of Jenna’s friends, said to her, being careful to look at her and enunciate.
Georgie sifted her words, trying to see if she meant them sarcastically, but she seemed sincere.
“Thank you,” Georgie said, smiling, tamping down the nerves in her stomach. She had to fight against the desperate urge to run back to the inn and make certain everything was still ready. It had been, a half hour ago when she left, but the anxiety kept climbing up her throat, attempting to convince her of pending catastrophe. What if a raccoon came down from the attic and ate everything she’d left on display for the party? Granted she’d never seen a raccoon anywhere on her property, including the attic, but there was a first time for everything.
A few more people stopped her and said something similar. Georgie smiled and tried to accept their words with grace when, really, they increased her panicked sense of impending doom. This would be awful. Something would go horribly wrong. Her inn wasn’t up to par. Everyone would see the flaws she’d tried so hard to disguise with wreaths and low lighting. Should she turn off all the lights and put out candles instead?
Her head swiveled longingly toward her inn, but it was no use; she had to go to the first inn, the illustrious AnneMarie. As much as Georgie hadn’t wanted to attend the festival alone, she was thankful for the solitude at the moment because it allowed her to flood into the herd of people who entered the inn, unnoticed and unobserved.
As she’d thought, the AnneMarie looked incredible. They had seemingly spared no expense to decorate. Georgie counted ten trees, at least nine feet tall, and those were only the ones she could see at first glance. The entire place smelled piney and fresh, with no hints of must or mildew, no easy feat for a two hundred year old mansion.
The food spread was equally impressive, with mini lobster rolls, crab cakes, shrimp cocktail and stuffed haddock. Even with their close proximity to so much fresh seafood, the cost most have been immense. There was no way Georgie could have come close to covering what must have been spent, and she began to feel the desperate sense of looming failure again. How would her inn possibly fare well next to this? This was lavish and over-the-top, like something from Boston or Portland, nothing like their tiny impoverished town usually saw.
While the herd of townspeople headed toward the buffet, mouths agape with something like awe, Georgie headed toward the drink table. She was hungry, but also parched. Suddenly her thirst outweighed her hunger, and she had no desire to be stuck in the long buffet line, no desire to confirm what she already suspected, that the food would be incomparably delicious. She could tell by the scent of garlic and lemon that it was so. Instead she got in the relatively short drink line, intending to reach for a water. But when she reached the table, she saw a tempting punch instead, something orange that looked like mango. A little bit of juice would go a long way toward quenching her thirst and stabilizing her sugar, and possibly her mood.
She reached for a glass and downed it in two sips, so quickly that she was able to down three more by the time she reached the end of the long drink table. It was probably rude to take so many when there were still so many other people behind her, but she was certain AnneMarie had enough to cover her gluttony. And besides, it wasn’t as if anyone was watching.
“Georgie, what are you doing?” her brother hissed.
So maybe someone was watching. Big Brother is always watching, she thought, fighting the mad desire to giggle.
“I was thirsty,” Georgie said. Did she whisper that? She couldn’t tell and tipped her head, trying to listen to words that had already died down and disappeared.
She must not have whispered because Brody glanced around, took her elbow, and led her off to the side. This time when he spoke, he only mouthed the words, probably hoping she would do the same. He was almost as good at reading lips as she was, after all.
Were you trying to get drunk? he asked.
She snorted. Of course not. Why would you think that?
Because you just downed four hurricanes.
Georgie blinked. Did her lids move one at a time? Maybe. “What’s a hurricane?” Did she mouth that? She couldn’t tell.
“I don’t know exactly, but I know it has a whole lot of rum.”
Georgie smacked her lips together, tasting her tongue. Oh. Rum. That would be the flavor she hadn’t been able to place. Uh-oh. Did she say that out loud?
“Yes, uh-oh, and yes, you said that out loud,” Brody hissed.
“Sssss.” Georgie could hiss, too, apparently.
Brody rubbed the area between his eyeballs. “You know you’re getting ready to host all these people in your inn in about twenty minutes, right?”
“Pih, pih, pih.” Georgie put her lips together and puffed air through them. What other mouth noises could she make? Why had she never tried before? Mouths were fun.
“Mouths are not fun,” Brody snapped. Apparently she’d said that last part out loud, too.
“You’re saying everything out loud. Stop talking,” Brody said.
He is so obnoxiously bossy.
When Brody narrowed his eyes on her, she realized she’d probably said the last part out loud, too, but it was funny. It was all so funny. So she was barely hanging on, so she had an internet “boyfriend,” so her best friend in the world was an invisible weirdo who lived in her attic. It was kind of hilarious, when you thought about it.
Brody sighed and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Georgie, where is Burke?”
“I don’t know,” Georgie said. Oh, no, was she going to cry?
“No, don’t cry. You won’t be able to fix your face in time for your open house,” Brody said.
He is so bad at saying comforting things.
Brody sighed again. “I know, you’re right. Come on, let’s try and fix this. I am usually good at fixing things.”
He is the best at fixing things.
Brody gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. Apparently she was still blurting her inner monologue.
He led her through the throng of people to Elyse and Cotton, who had loaded their plates at the buffet and now stood off to the side eating and talking, lost in their own little world. Brody must have called to them because they turned with a smile that faded to concern as Brody and Georgette approached.
“What’s up?” Elyse asked.
“Georgie accidentally got drunk,” Brody said.
“Oh, no,” Cotton said. He knew she had zero tolerance for alcohol.
“Oh, no,” Elyse echoed. She scanned the area around them. “Where’s Burke?”
“The question of the hour,” Brody said. He sounded irritable, but that could either have been because he was annoyed by the man’s absence or didn’t like him. “We need to get her back to her inn and make sure her open house goes off right.”
I should tell them everything is ready to go because I’ve spent the last few weeks making sure it’s all perfect so people will like me.
The three of them stared at her and then Cotton said, “Apparently everything is ready to go.”
“And of course everyone likes you,” Elyse added.
“Ayuh, she doesn’t know she’s saying things out loud,” Brody said.
“You are so sweet,” Georgie said, consuming Elyse in a swallowing hug. “When you marry Cotton, I’ll make you the best cake ever.” Elsye froze, but Cotton chuckled.
“I’m partial to chocolate,” he said.
“I know,” Georgie said, poking his shoulder.
“I’m partial to trying to salvage this event,” Brody said, herding them toward the door.
Always rescuing me, Georgie thought. At least she thought she thought it, but she must also have said that part out loud when Brody gave a longsuffering sigh again and shepherded her toward the exit.
They were the first to arrive at her inn. “Honey, we’re home,” Georgie called. She felt vividly cheerful for someone who was about to crash and burn in front of the entire town.
“This place looks spectacular,” Cotton blurted, pausing to take in the decorations.
“I know, isn’t it amazing?”
“You did this?” Brody asked, sounding impressed.
Georgie snorted. “No, Burke did it. Or paid to have it done or something. I don’t know how. Monopoly money, maybe?” She gazed around the interior but didn’t see the beautiful décor. All Georgie saw was the loneliness without her tenant.
“I’m going to see if I can find him,” Elyse said and began a tour of the house, poking her head into every room, calling for Burke like he was a wayward kitten.
Georgette remained in the entryway, staring at the inn like it belonged to someone else. At the moment she felt like it did. Nothing felt real, including her lips and fingers. She stared at them, waving at herself to try and reconnect the feeling to her digits. Brody touched her arm to get her attention.
“What do we need to do?” he asked.
“About what?” she returned. Were both eyes blinking together? She couldn’t tell.
“The festival. What needs to happen?”
“It needs to be a smashing success,” Georgie said.
Brody rubbed the center of his forehead.
“Oh, no, you’re mad at me,” she said, chin wobbling as tears threatened.
“I’m not mad,” he said.
“You are, because I’m messing up. I mess everything up, especially for you.”
“Georgie, no,” he said, shaking his head. He placed both hands on her shoulders, giving her a little shake. “We can do this, okay? Tell us what needs to happen with the food.”
Georgette tried to make her brain work properly. She could see the thoughts, could almost reach them, but they were so far away and out of focus. “Um.” She rubbed her temples. Cotton must have disappeared because he returned with a bottle of iced coffee from the fridge.
“Drink this,” he commanded and unscrewed the lid for her. While she did that, he turned to Brody. “I saw a bunch of stuff in the fridge that probably needs to be set out. We should move there. Maybe Elyse will find Burke and he’ll have more info.”
“I couldn’t find Burke,” Elyse said, returning as Cotton finished speaking. “But Georgie’s menu is printed on the flyer for the event. All we need to do is make sure everything is out and ready to go.” She produced a flyer from her pocket and waved it in the air.
“You guys are so great,” Georgie blubbered, going teary again.
“Great, she’s a weepy drunk,” Cotton murmured.
“Better than a mean one,” Brody replied.
“Georgie wouldn’t know how to be mean,” Elyse said. She put her arm around Georgie and began shepherding her toward the kitchen. “Come on, kiddo. Help us get set up.”
“I love you all,” Georgie cried.
“We know,” Cotton said, patting her shoulder.
Elyse opened the fridge and glanced at her list. “All right, it looks like everything room temperature is already set out and only needs the plastic wrap taken off. Cotton, you go do that. Brody, you prep the drinks, and Georgie and I will work on the refrigerated stuff.”
“Did my lips fall off?” Georgie asked, pressing her fingers to them.
“Correction, I’ll set out the refrigerated things,” Elyse amended.
Georgie watched, rocking back and forth on the high counter stool. She felt like there was something she should be doing, but her brain couldn’t quite grasp it, and sitting down felt good. When was the last time she sat? She couldn’t remember.
“Elyse, can I tell you a secret?” she said after a while.
“Always,” Elyse answered.
“Am I whispering?” Georgie asked.
“Nope,” Elyse said. “In fact you’re talking about five decibels louder than normal.”
“Okay, the thing is that I have a boyfriend.”
Elyse froze and regarded her. “Are you talking about Burke?”
“No. His name is Siggy. Or at least that’s what he told me his name is. I met him on the internet.”
Elyse had started to arrange a tray of petit four and froze again. “What? You met a man on the internet?”
“Yes. He’s dreamy, maybe? I don’t really know because I’ve never seen him, but the picture I drew of him and taped up looks pretty good. Except his nose. I can’t draw noses. I made a circle with two dots.” She reached for a napkin and began shredding it. “I hope he doesn’t have a pig nose in real life. That would be disappointing.”
“Georgie, back when you’re you again, we need to have a serious talk about cyber security, hacker to woman.”
“I just wanted someone to talk to, someone who liked me and didn’t care about all the other stuff,” Georgie said. She began to cry again, and gave a halfhearted swipe of her eyes.
Elyse reached over the table and clasped her wrist. “I get that. We all want that. But there are safer ways to go about it. Does Burke know about this?”
Georgie nodded. “I told him and then he disappeared. POOF.” She closed her hands and opened them, signifying a magic trick.
Now Elyse looked sad. “I can’t pretend to understand what goes on in Burke’s mind, but I do know he cares about you. A lot, Georgie. You have to believe that.”
“Why do I have to believe that? He never says anything to make me believe that. I don’t want to be sad and unlovable. Maybe I should sell the inn and move away, meet an island guy like Carol. I should dye my hair.” She slid off the stool and turned toward the door, but Elyse caught her.
“Where are you going?”
“To buy hair dye, I’m going to be blond.”
“A lot of stellar decisions are being made right now, and when this is over we’re going to petition to make it a dry town so this never happens again. In the meantime, you are not allowed to leave the inn.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have to host a party.”
“Oh,” Georgie drawled. “Yes, I remember. The winter party thing. Okay, I am ready, how do I look?” She smoothed a hand on her skirt, half her hair out of its barrette, mascara streaked down both cheeks.
“So, so beautiful,” Elyse said, surreptitiously reaching for a napkin and the brush in her purse.