Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“No,” Jess says, starting to stand, “I can—”
“ No ,” Mayor Bradley and Marina say at the same time. Marina raises her eyebrows meaningfully at Jess, the corners of her lips fighting to hide her amusement.
“I’m mostly gonna be in the kitchen anyway,” Marina explains, guiding Nancy to her seat. “Have fun.”
Marina winks at me on her way to the kitchen. Mayor Bradley lets out a relieved sigh that his buffer hasn’t left him. I suppress a groan and stare daggers at Nancy, who shoots me an angelic smile.
Nancy seems to have a talent for making my life worse.
If she hadn’t insisted we go on her show, I never would have thrown up on air while Marina ranted about Ryser’s scandals.
The clip never would have gone viral, and Amanda never would have seen it, gotten involved in festival planning, and decided to pull the funding and consider closing the Ryser Cares office.
And Nancy wouldn’t be milking the hell out of that incident on her show, turning “Queasy Lauryn” into a running joke, holding that caption contest with that godforsaken picture of me.
She’s having the time of her life basking in my misery.
But I clench my fists and try to be civil. Nancy’s motives become clear when she gushes to Mayor Bradley that she’d love to have him on her show for an interview.
“I’ll have to see,” he says, sharing a look with Jess. “My schedule’s pretty packed.” He checks his watch, and I remember his two-hour limit. Which Nancy is wasting on herself.
“I know you’d be an exceptional guest,” Nancy says. She turns to me with a pointed glare. “Unlike some people.”
“You made me go on your show,” I remind her, doing my best to sound friendly.
“Did I make you show up hungover ?” Nancy replies. “Did I make you vomit on my Louboutins?”
All eyes around the table fly to me, sending a flush of heat to my cheeks. My mind flashes with white-hot rage, and I can’t resist getting in a dig of my own. “Have I told you how much I love your highlights?” I say.
Nancy gasps, her eyes narrowing into slivers. Around the table, it’s clear who’s familiar with Nancy’s hang-ups and who isn’t. Elise, Meg, and Tim go still while Mayor Bradley and the rest of the guests continue eating and drinking.
“This. Is. My. Natural. Color,” Nancy insists in a gravelly low tone I didn’t even know her voice was capable of reaching.
Before I can respond, Marina calls my name. I toss Nancy a glare as I stand. When I enter the kitchen, Randy is artfully arranging roasted brussels sprouts on plates filled with roast chicken and mushroom risotto while Marina leans against the counter with crossed arms.
“What the hell are you doing?” Marina says.
I raise my palms in a gesture of innocence. “Nancy started it!”
“Nancy lives on another planet,” Marina reminds me. “Fighting with her is pointless. Just let her get in her catty remarks, let her make everything about her, and move on with it. It’s fine.”
“Easier said than done,” I grumble, lowering my eyes. I reach for a brussels sprout off the tray, but Randy swats my hand away.
Marina squints at me. “Why are you letting her get to you? Is it the Queasy Lauryn stuff?”
“I…” Behind Marina, Randy gives me a look of concern. I imagine he might have pieced together the connection between Nancy and Amanda’s decision. “Nothing. Just…dinner party stress.”
“This was your idea,” Marina reminds me with an amused grin. “You did this to yourself.”
I give her a rueful smile back. “I know. I shouldn’t have.”
She shrugs. “It seems like it’s going well, actually.
Just…be chill. Live, laugh, love. Keep calm and drink wine.
Pick a mantra from one of those hideous signs you put in my living room and stick to it.
” Marina gathers a plate in each hand, fixes me with a stern look that I’m sure she saves for her most difficult fourth graders, and moves into the next room to serve the main course.
“I’m partial to the ‘Grandchildren Make You Grand’ one,” Randy jokes, passing me with a plate in each hand. “Raises a lot of questions.”
I take in a long breath through my nose and pick up two more plates.
Before I leave the kitchen, I steel myself.
I won’t let myself get sucked into Nancy’s world of pettiness.
I won’t take out my frustrations with Ryser on Nancy.
I’ll rise above, for the sake of Marina, this dinner party, and the festival.
I throw on a smile as fake as Nancy’s golden blond highlights and enter the dining room.
When I take my place at the table, I am a perfect hostess.
I charm our guests by talking up their businesses and gushing over how excited I am to have them at the apple festival.
But the conversation slips into new tangents before I have a chance to bring up the VIP package.
Tim talks about taking his son camping by the lake south of Greenstead, which prompts Walt to dive into a story about a historically significant church near the lake.
Sometime around then is when Jess raises the subject of Solar Summit’s hotel resort proposal. They tell Ted and Lucy that it would be a wonderful way to rejuvenate West Greenstead and bring more tourists to our town.
“Admittedly,” Jess says, “on a personal level, part of my excitement is for selfish reasons. You said the resort would include a shopping center and a movie theater, right? My life would be so much easier if I didn’t have to drive to Falls Point when I want to buy a pair of jeans or see a movie.”
Mayor Bradley, who I suspect Jess’s speech is really for, listens with interest, but Meg and Elise bristle immediately.
“Thank you,” Lucy says. “We came up with the idea when we expanded to a year-round schedule this year. We needed more hotel accommodations, and we wanted to give our guests activities they could do in the winter or on bad weather days. A resort in West Greenstead felt like the perfect fit. West Greenstead would get a lot of benefit from it, too.”
“West Greenstead is doing fine,” Meg replies hotly. “I know you Falls Pointers think you’re better than us, but you’re not.”
Lucy shuts up, but Sera studies Meg curiously, like she’s trying to place her. “Don’t you live in Falls Point?” she asks. “I think I’ve seen you around my condo complex.”
Elise, Jaclyn, and Mayor Bradley whip their heads around to stare at Meg, who’s now shifting in her seat. She gazes up at Daveed Diggs, as if he can swoop down from his perch and save her with the power of literacy.
“You moved to Falls Point?” Jaclyn asks.
“You told me you were just moving across town,” Elise says, betrayal in her voice. “I helped you pack .”
Mayor Bradley shakes his head in disappointment. “Some voters might find it insulting that you would try to run for mayor of a town you don’t even live in.”
Meg frowns. “What? I’m not—”
Jess gives a loud, exaggerated cough, shooting me a look across the table. I lean forward and hurriedly try to think of a distraction.
“This risotto is delicious,” I say loudly. Then, realizing that complimenting my own cooking might come off a little strangely, I add, “I, um. I’ve never made it before.”
“It is delicious,” Jaclyn agrees, her eyes still not leaving Meg.
Sera sneezes into her napkin and mutters an apology.
“Why’d you move?” Jaclyn asks Meg, taking a swig of her wine. “What does Falls Point have that we don’t?”
“I needed to, for my asthma,” Meg protests. “The air’s better there.”
Sera sneezes again. “There is something to Greenstead air that always makes my allergies act up,” she admits with an apologetic sniffle.
“You know, Greenstead actually has less ragweed, which is the common cause for fall allergies, compared to neighboring areas,” Walt says. “There’s an interesting story behind that.”
Next to him, Elise groans, and I tense up. I saw the way Elise’s patience with Walt waned back in the living room, when he was questioning her claims about healing crystals and rambling about an article he’d read on the psychology behind them.
I’d like to change the subject again, but my mind unhelpfully offers up nothing. I resign myself to biting into a roasted brussels sprout. It’s the perfect balance of crispy and tender, not that any of our guests have cared to notice.
“Look, I don’t know what it is,” Sera says, pulling another tissue from the pack in her lap. “It could be a lot of things. Maybe it’s the mus—”
Heads swivel in Sera’s direction. She abruptly closes her mouth. It’s an unwritten rule here that only Greensteaders are allowed to talk about the mustard flood.
“Never mind,” Sera says. “I just know that if I’m parking my truck in Greenstead, I feel better when I wear a mask.”
“You don’t need a mask, because our air is plenty clean,” Mayor Bradley insists. “It’s in the town slogan.” He sets down his fork and turns to Meg. “I take back what I said about Pretzel in Paradise. Also, some of your pretzels are too salty.”
“Well…” Meg looks around the table desperately, then points at Tim. “Tim’s sponge cake is made from a mix—from Ryser.”
Amid the gasps, Tim startles, his eyes bulging. “With modifications!” he protests. Glancing around with unease, he adds, “I’m still working on my sponge cake recipe.”
“You’ve been ‘working on’ it for thirty years!” Meg retorts.
“At least I’m not a hypocrite pretending to live in Greenstead,” Tim shoots back. “You think you’re better than us, with your fancy Falls Point clean air?”
“Our air is plenty clean,” Mayor Bradley repeats, raising his voice.
“How would you even know?” Jaclyn cuts in. “You’re too busy hiding in your office, locked away from all of us.”
“I’m shy!” Mayor Bradley bellows, bringing his fist down on the table. It’s forceful enough to make the silverware rattle like a warning bell. One of the decorative mini-pumpkins threatens to roll off the table, and I have to reach across Walt to halt it.
“Let’s change the subject,” I quickly say.
“Why, feeling queasy?” Nancy asks.