Chapter Two #2
"Going to need a nice suit if you're dating a fancy Chicago attorney," Tyler teased, following me. "Maybe a tie. Do you even own a tie?"
"I own three ties, and I'm not dating anyone," I said, examining the price tag on a mid-range wetsuit and wincing. "How much for the display model?"
Tyler studied my face, his humor fading into something more perceptive. "You know, you're allowed to date again. It's been over a year since Hurricane Vanessa blew through town."
I traced the grain in the wooden display fixture, following a knot that spiraled like a whirlpool. "Eighteen months. And I've dated since then."
"Two coffee meetups and one blind date your mom set up don't count as dating," he countered, crossing his arms. "You've been hiding in your workshop more than living lately. Even that reclaimed mahogany bed frame you're building in the garage isn't going to keep you warm at night."
"How much for the display model?" I repeated, my finger still tracing the wood grain.
Tyler sighed. "I'll give you twenty percent off if you help me set up the new paddleboard display next weekend."
"Deal," I agreed, knowing better than to argue. Tyler had been my best friend since we were seven, building tree forts and getting into trouble together; he could read me too well. "Thanks, man."
"No problem." He moved behind the counter and started writing up the sale. "So... the blonde. You're not even a little interested? An actual adult conversation with someone who doesn't know about the time you threw up in Mrs. Harlow's rosebushes after prom might do you good."
Lark's image came to mind—her direct gaze, slender figure, and those long legs I couldn’t help but notice. "Doesn't matter if I am. She's probably just passing through, and I've got enough going on without Zoe Blake turning my life into entertainment."
"Fair enough," Tyler conceded, though his knowing smirk remained. "Just don't knock it until you've tried it. She might not be another Vanessa."
I felt a familiar weight settle on my shoulders—the same heaviness that had followed me for weeks after finding Vanessa's note on our kitchen table.
I need more than small town Montana can offer.
More than you can offer. The pitying glances at the grocery store, the sudden silence when I walked into the neighborhood bar two days after she left, the whispered "there he is" when I'd shown up alone to the Harvest Festival that fall—all surfaced like trout breaking the water of a still pond.
The memory of those whispers faded as the shop's bell jingled, cutting off Tyler's next comment as Mayor Snowcroft entered, looking as crisp as ever in his button-down shirt and neatly pressed slacks.
Theodore Snowcroft had been Wintervale's mayor for three terms, his silver hair and trim mustache as much a part of the town's identity as the mountains themselves.
"Wade! Just the man I was hoping to find," he announced, his politician's smile in full force. "Tyler mentioned you might be stopping by today."
Tyler raised an eyebrow at me, then tactfully moved to help a customer who'd come in behind the mayor. I tucked the wetsuit under my arm and shook Snowcroft's outstretched hand.
"What can I do for you, Mayor?"
"Perhaps we could speak somewhere a bit more private?" he suggested, nodding toward a corner where a couple of stools stood empty. Whatever this was about, it wasn't a casual hello.
"I assume you've seen this morning's Wintervale Whispers?" he asked, taking a seat and removing his phone from his pocket.
"Just did," I replied, wondering where this was going. "If you're worried about my reputation, don't be. Nobody takes Zoe's blog seriously."
"Actually, that's where you're wrong," Snowcroft said, showing me his screen. "Her readership has tripled in the past year. People from neighboring towns follow it now. And this post about you and Ms. Hayes has the highest engagement of any story this month."
I blinked, taken aback. "Why would anyone care about a made-up romance between me and someone they've never met?"
"People love a good story, especially one with attractive protagonists," he replied matter-of-factly. "And as it happens, this particular story could be beneficial for Wintervale."
"How exactly?" I asked, suspicion creeping in like sawdust under fingernails.
"The Summer Splash Festival is coming up, as you know," he said, leaning forward.
"The kayak regatta, artisan market, lakeside concert series—it's our biggest tourism draw of the summer season, and frankly, attendance has been low the past few years.
We need something fresh, something to generate buzz. "
I saw where this was going and immediately shook my head. "No. Absolutely not."
"Hear me out," he persisted. "You're already involved with the festival through your water safety demonstrations.
Ms. Hayes is here for at least two weeks per my understanding, which perfectly coincides with the festival dates.
A little romance—even just for show—would create media interest beyond our usual reach. "
"You want me to pretend to date a complete stranger to boost tourism?" I asked incredulously.
"That, and I want you to consider how this could also benefit your interests," he countered smoothly. "More tourists means more donations. More donations means expanded programming, perhaps even funding that new indoor aquatic facility you've been hoping for."
His comment hit its mark. The water safety program was scraping by on grants and community donations, with next month's quarterly deadline looming.
Having a state-of-the-art indoor facility in Wintervale would mean winter classes, reaching more kids, maybe even expanding to neighboring communities.
Without it, we'd continue operating just three months a year, reaching only a fraction of the children who needed these skills.
"Why would she agree to this?" I asked, drumming my fingers against the countertop. "She doesn't even know me."
"I'm meeting with Ms. Hayes this afternoon," Snowcroft said. "I think she might have her own reasons for finding this arrangement useful. But I wanted to gauge your interest first."
I exhaled slowly, fogging the glass countertop beneath my hands. "Even if I considered it—and I'm not saying I am—what exactly would this involve?"
"Nothing inappropriate," he assured me. "Attend the artisan market together. Paddle in the sunset boat parade. Be seen at the brewery tasting and festival awards ceremony. Let Zoe take her photos and try to have some fun. It's all just good publicity."
"And if we don't hit it off? If she thinks this is ridiculous?"
"Then we drop it immediately," the mayor promised. "No harm done. But if you're both amenable, it could be a win-win situation. Think about it, will you?"
The bell chimed again as the mayor departed, leaving behind his proposal and the faint scent of expensive aftershave.
I sat there for a long moment, turning the proposition over in my mind.
It was ridiculous—the kind of scheme I'd typically dismiss outright.
The memory of being town gossip after Vanessa left still rankled as though it were fresh.
But that year-round swimming facility...
The image was crystal clear in my mind: the converted warehouse space on Pinecrest Drive, kids learning water safety year-round instead of just during summer months.
Logan helping me teach beginners in a heated pool rather than the sometimes-frigid lake.
Double the number of children we could reach.
Double the lives we could potentially save.
Tyler slid onto the stool the mayor had vacated. "What was that about?"
I explained Snowcroft's proposal, watching Tyler's eyes widen with each detail.
"So let me get this straight," he said when I finished. "The mayor wants you to fake-date a hot Chicago lawyer to make Wintervale's summer festival more exciting, and you're actually considering it?"
"I'm considering what it could do for the water safety iniative," I clarified, fiddling with the sleeve of the wetsuit. "The quarterly grant deadline is next month, and we're still eight thousand short of what we need for the aquatic instruction center deposit."
"Uh-huh." Tyler's skepticism was evident. "And the fact that the woman in question is gorgeous has nothing to do with it?"
"I don't even know her," I protested. "She could be awful. One of those big-city types with her nose in the air who looks down on small towns like ours."
"Or she could be great," he countered. "You won't know unless you meet her. Besides, when's the last time you took a risk on anything except a tricky miter joint?"
I gave him the finger with a smirk.
"I'm not agreeing to anything until I talk to her myself," I said firmly. "And only if she actually agrees to this crazy arrangement.”
"Fair enough." Tyler checked his watch and stood. "I've got to help a customer with fly fishing gear but keep me posted. This is officially the most interesting thing to happen in Wintervale since Mrs. Pemberton's chicken got loose in the bank."
He wasn't wrong.
Left alone, I pulled out my phone and scrolled back to the photo in Zoe's blog.
The woman—Lark—stood with the kind of straight-backed poise that suggested she spent her days in boardrooms rather than on docks.
Even in shorts and a t-shirt, there was a natural elegance to her.
She wasn't trying to be noticed; she was simply lovely.
Vanessa had always posed for effect, hamming it up for any camera pointed in her direction for maximum impact.
This woman in contrast looked like she'd faced down tougher opponents than a local blogger.
The craftsmanship in my head started measuring and cutting: If I agreed to this charade, I'd need to carve out time between lifeguarding and swim classes, as well as teaching prep.
The Summer Splash Festival ran for a full week, starting with the Artisan Market on Tuesday, continuing with community events through the week, and culminating in the Lake Challenge Regatta the following Saturday.
Plus, there was Mayor Snowcroft's wedding that same day at the Evergreen Inn.
The jewelry box I was creating as the mayor's gift to his bride still needed that final coat of finish. It would be a busy stretch.
I pocketed my phone. This was crazy. Pretending to date someone for publicity was the kind of thing that happened in bad romantic comedies, not real life. Not my life, anyway.
But as I grabbed my wetsuit and headed for the door, I couldn't quite dismiss the idea. If it helped the aquatic center initiative, if she agreed, if it was just for the festival... maybe it wasn't completely insane.
I'd talk to her first. See what she was like, what she thought of this bizarre proposal. Then I'd decide.
No matter how composed she looked in that photo, I wasn't jumping into anything—real or fake—without making sure it wouldn't blow up in my face. I'd been the subject of Wintervale's pity once before, and some mistakes didn't bear repeating.