forty-one | emberly
FORTY-ONEEmberly
Meeting a celebrity client (no names, remember!). Planning the charity masquerade ball. Landing in a hurricane.
I’ve done all these things in the past twelve months and none of them made me as nervous as hosting a thirteen-year-old’s birthday party.
The first hour was a little chaotic, but Iris’s friends are great.
They loved the tie-dying and consumed their weight in Knox’s hamburgers and deep-fried cheese curds while their T-shirts were in the dryer.
After everyone ate, I asked Brighton if she wanted to serve the cake, but all she did was laugh at me.
“Oh, no, Em. You’ve got this. I’m going to pretend I’m thirteen and enjoy myself.”
Reeve had nodded. “Same.”
The sprinkles pouring out of the cake was a huge hit with the girls, but as I cut it up and place the slices on the plates, I’m not thinking about making the cake, I’m thinking about Will’s kiss.
I glance in his direction.
I can’t tell if Will is enjoying himself. He’s stepped up whenever someone needed an extra pair of hands, but for the majority of the party, he’s stayed in the background. Stayed away from me.
While the girls dig into their cake and ice cream, Iris opens her gifts. She takes her time, her smiles and gratitude genuine.
Someone—I glance at Will—has taught her well.
His gaze locks with mine, but there’s no summer lightning. Nothing that hints he’s thinking about kissing me again.
I’ve been so focused on the party and Samantha’s house, I haven’t let myself think about tomorrow. At nine a.m., I have to check-out of Firefly and go home. No more options. Or choices.
“I think they’re ready for the next surprise.”
Reeve’s voice tugs me back to the present and I blink. The cake and ice-cream are gone and fourteen pairs of eyes stare up at me expectantly.
Fortunately, I have another one. Well, two, if everything falls into place. I’m just waiting for the text.
“Your T-shirts are dry, so you can put them on and then you’re going on a photo scavenger hunt,” I announce. “The studio will be home base and Reeve is going to hand out your cameras and explain the rules.”
There’s a moment of absolute chaos while they dig through the laundry basket and find their shirts.
Then I turn the girls over to Reeve, the Nature Ninja, for the next half hour.
Brighton links arms with her as they follow the girls and I wish I could watch, but I’ve got one more surprise to unveil.
Will is helping Knox clean up, so I slip past them to check on our karaoke stage.
I emptied some of the shelves in the party aisle at Save a Buck Variety.
Red, white, and blue bunting left over from the Fourth of July covers the patches of rust on the flatbed and strings of Christmas lights form a curtain behind the microphone.
It’s gaudy and over-the-top.
The girls are going to love it.
I arrange the camp chairs in a half-circle in front of the stage, but I doubt anyone will be sitting down. Iris’s friends remind me of a litter of puppies. Boundless energy and enthusiasm.
My heart jumps as a text comes in, but it’s from Brighton.
Brighton: Ten-minute Warning.
Me: I’ll be right there.
I release a slow breath as I take the now familiar path to the studio.
Reeve looks like a disheveled woodland fairy in her tie-dye shirt and camo pants, but she grins at me when I walk into the room.
“I think I should have doubled the number of items. These girls are fierce.”
“I’ve lived here for twenty-four years and only found six out of ten,” Brighton complains.
The two teams form a line in front of the table and we cross-check the stack of instant photos against the treasures listed on Reeve’s clipboard.
A clipboard.
I knew it. We were destined to be friends.
I hand out necklaces with huge gold medallions (also from the bargain bin at Save a Buck) to the winning team, but everyone gets a bag filled with smaller prizes. Chocolate fish and gummy worms in honor of Iris’s favorite hobby. Nail polish and temporary tattoos because they’re thirteen.
“That was so much fun, Emberly,” Iris whispers. Her cheeks are flushed and the ballcap on her head lists a little to one side.
“I’m glad,” I whisper back.
My cell lets me know I have another text and I breathe a sigh of relief after I read it.
“All right, we have one last surprise for the night.”
Everyone groans and I feel a moment of panic until one of the girls wails, “I’m not ready to go home yet.”
“Neither am I.” Brighton winks at me and peels off the back of a temporary tattoo. A tiny silver star appears on her cheek.
Iris links her arm through mine as we file down the stairs and head back to Will’s cabin.
Eden, Iris’s best friend, spots the stage and squeals,
“Karaoke!” triggering a stampede.
“Can you keep them busy for a few minutes?” I ask Brighton. “There’s something I have to do.”
“Sure.” She doesn’t hesitate. “Reeve and I can warm up the crowd with a duet. She loves to sing.”
Judging from Reeve’s expression, she does not love to sing. But she loves Iris, so I know she’ll do it.
Knox is missing, but there’s a jug of lemonade on the picnic table by the stage and a popcorn cart that makes the air smell like a carnival. I scan the perimeter, pretending to make sure everything is ready, but what I’m really looking for is Will.
“Oh oh,” Reeve murmurs. “Don’t look now, but I think one of the guests found us.”
I do look, but it isn’t a guest. Ordinarily, Skylar Donahue wears the Sky Chauffeur uniform, slim-fitting black pants and a crisp, button-down shirt with a sparrow embroidered on the pocket. Tonight, she’s incognito and looks like a local in a tank top and shorts.
“She’s not a guest … she’s my pilot.”
Brighton and Reeve are staring at me now.
“I thought you weren’t leaving until tomorrow,” Brighton finally says.
“I’m not … she’s here … um … to deliver Iris’s gift.”
“You didn’t buy her a plane, did you?” Reeve teases.
“No …”
Skylar is closing the distance between us.
“Well, I made it,” she announces. “You’ve got forty-five minutes.”
“And?” I pause, but Skylar reads my mind.
“Inside.”
“What’s inside?” Brighton asks.
Skylar’s gaze shifts to me. “You didn’t tell them?”
“It’s a surprise, remember?”
“What’s a surprise?” Reeve interjects.
Skylar waits for me to explain.
Fine.
“It’s not a what.” I keep my voice low. “It’s a who.”
“You hired a clown? Or one of those princess look-a-likes?” Reeve’s horrified expression tells me that I better not have hired a clown or one of those princess look-alikes for Iris’s thirteenth birthday bash.
“I didn’t hire anyone. I … called in a favor. From, um, Declan Murphy.”
“Em … are you telling us that Declan Murphy is here?” Brighton almost chokes on the last word.
“Yes?”
I sound a little choked up, too.
Because I’m pretty sure he’s in the cabin with Will.
“How …” Brighton looks like she’s going to start hyperventilating.
“Declan is building a house in Nashville and his manager hired me for the interior. I met with him before I got here to go over the plans, and Declan said if I finish before Christmas, he’d get me a front row seat.” I smile. “He didn’t specify where that seat had to be.
“I know Iris loves his music and when I saw his next appearance was at a venue in Minnesota, I called him and asked if he would consider a short layover at Pinehart.”
Reeve’s eyes narrow. “And what does he get out of this?”
“I offered to waive my fee.”
“Emberly!” Brighton looks so shocked I suspect she’s done some investigating of her own and checked out my website. I sign a lot of NDAs, but some high-profile clients have publicly endorsed my business.
“I didn’t say anything because it’s such a last-minute thing, but Skylar was available, so it all worked out.”
“I wasn’t available,” Skylar interjects drily. “But I can be bought.”
“Em!” Iris waves to me. “Who gets to go first?”
I look at Reeve and Brighton.
“Declan is going to sing the last song with Iris, so if you’re serious about the duet, I’ll be the DJ. Skylar …” I pause, not sure what she wants to do.
“Declan will be fine hanging out in the house for a while.” Skylar shrugs. “And I happen to love karaoke.”
I bite my lip.
It’s not Declan I’m worried about.