Chapter 19
“Fifty flowers? Every state has a flower,” Elle says, practically jumping out of her chair. I jot her idea down in my designated festival-planning journal. My colored pens and markers are scattered across the inn’s coffee table for our emergency post-breakfast brainstorming session.
Gabe paces back and forth; apparently he likes to think on his feet.
Elle keeps going. “Birds? Doesn’t every state have a bird?”
“I’m not sure how we would get fifty birds sent here.” I chew on a pen cap. “Maybe we could ask our friends from the National Audubon Society to help us locate the birds,” I say.
Gabe laughs to himself. “I just had this image of the sky darkening from a flock of deadly birds.”
“I bet hosting fireworks is expensive and needs all kinds of insurance and legal agreements,” I say, channeling one of Mom’s lawyers. “Still, if we expanded the jubilee to nighttime fireworks, that would be a huge draw. I bet you’d get more guests checking into the hotel.”
Gabe sighs. “Yes, but it’s tradition—the owner of Grand Meadows always hosts the fireworks. We handle the barbecue and festival during the day.”
Elle scoffs. “Pretty sure that new resort doesn’t care about tradition, since they’re also trying to host the daytime Fourth of July crowd.”
“She’s got a point,” I say.
Elle triumphantly grabs a toaster pastry off the table. “These freshly made Pop-Tarts are the best.”
“They’re from our local bakery, Pie Hard,” Gabe says.
I gasp. “That’s brilliant.”
He shrugs. “I guess? The owner really loves cheesy action movies.”
I laugh. “Not the Die Hard movie reference. Pie! Elle and I have traveled to pretty much all fifty states, and each has a signature pie.”
“Our dad loves pie,” Elle adds. “He loves to eat them. Bake them. He’d probably take a bath in them if possible.”
I clap my hands. “My point is, we could have a baking competition where entrants submit pies from each state. And we’d have a panel of celebrity chefs to judge the entries.”
Elle’s eyes grow wide. “We can ask the bakers to submit two pies, one for the contest and one for a cakewalk.”
Gabe grins. “Sweet. Nothing gets people more motivated than a competition. But why get celebrity chefs when we have you two?”
I bite my lip, and he answers for me. “Because you won’t be here for the jubilee.”
My sister murmurs “bummer” under her breath. I shake my head, not ready to dampen the mood. “We’ll find someone great.” I rub my hands together like an old-school villain. “I may know a few people who know people.”
“A local judge would be good too,” Elle says. “Give us some street cred.”
“Kids? Are you here?” Gabriel’s mom enters the family room looking very dressed-to-impress. “There you are. I’ve got some encouraging news, but I’m going to need your help.” I look at her expectantly. “Marge has invited us to the business council’s annual barbecue.”
Gabriel sits up. “Does that mean they’ve decided to be a key sponsor of the jubilee?”
“I hope so,” Ruby replies. “Only problem is that I have a meeting with the bank. So, I’m going to need you to go in advance to represent the inn. I will arrive when my meeting is done.”
I raise my hand. “Can Elle and I join the advance team?”
Gabriel’s mom laughs. “I was already counting on you girls helping Gabriel. I can tell you make a great team.”
As soon as Ruby is out of the room, Elle strikes a mock cheerleader pose. “Go, Team AbbyGabby.”
I shoot her a look, hoping it conceals my red cheeks. Back to business. “Maybe we offer Marge a spot as a local judge for the pie contest? Could sweeten the deal?”
Gabe, cheeks flushing in rare sync with mine, nods. “Abby, I think you’ll be the one to sweeten the deal.”
It’s the perfect day for a barbecue. Blue sky, warm breeze, and for once in my life, nothing on my agenda. I find myself skipping my khaki shorts in favor of a cute cornflower-blue maxi dress—it’s my prairie princess look. I complete my outfit with white sunglasses and sandals.
Gabriel is waiting on the porch. He’s in his classic 501s but has switched his white T-shirt with a brick-red V-neck. The color looks great on him. He stands as soon as he sees us, a smile on his face that is downright swoonworthy.
“You look great,” he says.
“And that color looks good on you,” I say, forcing myself to focus on his eyes.
“What about me?” Elle twirls in her yellow jumpsuit like a model on a runway. “I call this outfit third-wheel core,” Elle whispers to me. I elbow her as she snickers.
We hop into Gabe’s truck. Shaw and Nessa are already in their car behind us. The drive is pleasant, including a Taylor Swift lip sync contest, which Elle, of course, wins.
Shortly, Gabe pulls his truck into a parking spot near a shaded picnic area. I appreciate the sight of several tables covered in a red-checked tablecloth and the smell of sweet, tangy barbecue sauce in the air. “Does this check off ‘picnic’ on your list?” Gabe asks.
“Nope,” Elle says before I can respond. “That item specifically stipulated a fun picnic with friends. This counts as work.” I keep my mouth shut.
She isn’t wrong, but I don’t like that she’s shamelessly hinting to Gabe to take me out.
I’ll have to talk to her later about minding her own business.
Gabe, meanwhile, looks untroubled by Elle’s meddling.
A crowd of people surrounds tables loaded with barbecue staples—potato salad, coleslaw, chips, baked beans, and soft rolls.
I’ve been to plenty of events like this, campaigning with my family and with Oliver’s, but it’s different with just Gabe and Elle by my side. The freedom and excitement is new.
The three of us walk toward the crowd, but I’m so self-conscious of Gabriel beside me it’s hard to focus on anything else.
The barbecue’s host finds us right away.
Marge greets us wearing a Grills Just Wanna Have Fun apron and a huge grin.
“There they are. My guests of honor, Abigail and Eleanor Cary-Alzona.” She barely waits for my response before grabbing my hand and shaking it wildly.
“Abby, I hear you’ve been doing a great job helping out with the jubilee.
The entire Mystic Hollow community really appreciates all your hard work and leadership. ”
My face reddens. It’s nice to receive a compliment without my mother attached. “When I told Vince you were coming to my barbecue, we just about fainted.” She looks around, I assume for her secret partner and the town’s mayor, Vince Lee.
We follow her line of sight to where a man in a matching apron is talking to another in a business suit. Marge rolls her eyes. “Those pesky resort people are chasing us even here.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrow. “They’re such a big corporation. Why do they need Marge and the business council to sponsor their event?”
I grimace. “Because the Darbys know the value of local support.”
Marge nods. “Just so you know, the resort’s offering deals to all the small businesses in town, and they’re not only offering space but money too. Not surprising considering how they practically bribed Sunshine Farms off their land.”
Gabriel mutters under his breath.
“Vince and I were tempted,” Marge adds. “But both our businesses are going to stick with tradition, and the rest of the business council agrees!” she exclaims.
Elle does a happy dance. Gabe and I grin at one another.
“Especially now that you’ve brought some star power,” she says, grinning at me and Elle.
I stiffen. “Marge, you should know that Elle and I won’t actually be at the jubilee. We’re expected home at the end of the month.”
Marge nods. “That’s too bad. We would love to have you here, but our commitment doesn’t change.
Gabe’s family has been here for this town.
And now that we know we’re not offending the vice president’s family, we’re good.
” Marge looks behind us. “Where’s your mother, Gabriel?
We should set up a meeting to discuss the details soon. ”
“Kicking down doors and taking names,” Gabe says. “But she’ll be here soon.”
As Elle gushes to Marge about the midway games and the need for a local judge for the pie competition, I catch Gabriel’s eye.
I can feel both relief and nerves vibrating off him.
Getting the business council to sponsor the jubilee was a huge win, allowing us to pay for some of the attractions we wanted to have, but the revelation that the Darbys’ resort is still actively chasing down local sponsors for their competing event is not welcome news.
Marge waves wildly at another family. “I had better get back to my guests. Please make yourselves at home.” She shakes my hand one last time.
“And don’t worry, your Secret Service detail made it clear that you’re to keep a low profile at this event.
My friends and employees will respect your privacy. We’re all such huge fans.”
I exhale as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“Looks like we can report to your mom that we’ve achieved our primary objective, sponsorship from the council.
” Gabe’s silence is palpable. “And gotten some unfortunate but not insurmountable intel,” I add.
“Oliver’s uncle is the CEO of Darby International, but I’m sure I can ask Oliver to talk to him about not stealing your sponsors. ”
Gabe makes a sour face. “Please don’t. I don’t want you to get tangled in this situation.”
“But I could try to reach Oliver and…” My voice trails off.
A few feet away, a crowd of people gesture for us to join them.
A pleasant-faced woman holds plates for us while others in the group smile and whisper with one another.
Maybe they’re talking about the food but the grins on their faces suggest otherwise.
I sigh. We’ll have to discuss the Oliver situation later when we’re out of earshot.
Plus, my stomach’s clearly shouting it’s time to eat.