Chapter 21 #2
I frown, thrown for a loop. “How am I making a scene? We’re just walking around like everyone else. It’s not like we’re making out or anything.”
“Don’t be vulgar,” she says. “I can’t believe you’re not thinking about your sister in all this.”
Now I’m just blinking at her, completely confused. “I’m not following, Mom. What does Isabelle have to do with anything?”
She sighs, rubbing her forehead like she’s the one who’s frustrated. “This is supposed to be your sister’s time. She’s getting married, and now you show up with your… non-traditional relationship. How do you think that makes her feel? It’s like you’re trying to upstage her.”
“I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just living my life.”
“Still. You know people are going to be talking about you and the three of them more than Isabelle and her wedding. The least you could do as her sister and maid of honor is keep things on the down low a bit.”
“On the down low.”
“Yes. Don’t parade your relationship around at things like this. You know how people here love to gossip.”
I wish I could say I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I wish this wasn’t so entirely typical for her. Irritation surges through me, and I clench my jaw, trying to keep my emotions in check.
Because of course my mother is worried about Isabelle’s feelings.
Of course. When Isabelle started dating Andrew, my mom didn’t have anything to say about it and had no problem inviting him to family dinners and making sure I never got a break from seeing the two of them together.
No one checked in with me, to make sure I was alright.
No one asked if it was okay for my sister to flaunt my ex in my face constantly. No one cared.
But heaven forbid I do anything to make Isabelle uncomfortable before her big day.
Usually, I would just roll over and agree, because it’s easier to just give in than to rock the boat in this family. But something makes me dig my heels in a little tonight, and I run with it.
“I’m not going to hide, Mom,” I say, lifting my chin and looking her in the eye. “I’m very happy right now, and I don’t think I need to downplay that. Isabelle should be more focused on her own happiness than on mine.”
I realize, as I’m talking, that what I’m saying is true.
The stuff about Isabelle for sure, but also the fact that I am really happy these days.
As nerve-wracking as it can be in some ways, sharing space with these three intense men, I’ve actually been having a much better December than I would have without them around.
It’s less lonely, and I wake up each morning actually excited to see what the day will bring.
Mom doesn’t look impressed by my answer, which I suppose makes sense since she’s used to me just giving in to what she wants and not arguing back. Clearly, she can’t even muster up the will to be glad that her daughter is happy, and that says everything about our relationship.
“I’m going to go back to them now. I’ll see you later, Mom,” I say, stepping away and ending the conversation.
Dad has escaped from small talk when I get back, and my three guys are standing off to one side. They move to me when I come back, each of them searching my face, probably trying to see if my mother pissed me off.
I just shake my head and smile. “Typical my mom stuff,” I tell them. “Let’s keep looking around.”
Mrs. Henderson has finished her song by then, and then someone else takes up the mic, it’s to make an announcement.
“Just a reminder that we’re closing the sign-ups for the charity auction in twenty minutes,” the mayor says with a grin.
“There’s a sign-up sheet near the door, and we’re happy to auction off anything you can think of.
Want to get your teenagers out of the house this winter break?
Auction off an hour of their time shoveling snow for the elderly.
All the proceeds go to charity, and we have some great ones lined up this year.
Most notably the shelter over in Shelton, which as you know, we partner with every year. Every little bit helps, folks!”
Every year I at least bid on something small, just to help out, but this year, I’m feeling impulsive. I don’t know if it’s the conversation with my mom, or just everything else, but I want to do something more.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell the men, and go over to the sign-up sheet to put myself down for one free baking lesson.
It’s not much, but maybe someone will bite?
By the time the auction starts an hour later, I’m less confident in my decision. Because who would want a baking lesson from me?
What was I even thinking? This is just going to be embarrassing, watching everyone else get called up and have their things auctioned off while mine makes no money at all. Not even my parents would probably bid on it.
I wish I could go back in time and tell past me that this is a terrible idea.
They start with an old jewelry box that someone found in an estate sale, and it goes for a whopping $500. That sets the tone, and people bid fast for concert tickets, reservations to a new restaurant in the city, and a day of having a group of teenagers from the high school do yard work.
And then the mayor says my name.
“Next up, we have a free baking lesson from Violet Bentley, who as we all know is the owner of Blackbird Bakery. Come on up, Violet.”
My heart pounds in my chest and my hands are suddenly clammy. All eyes are on me as I walk up to the stage to stand next to the mayor. I have to swallow back the surge of anxiety, and before I can even think of trying to say this was a mistake, he starts the bidding at a hundred dollars.
At first, the room is silent, and my heart sinks. It’s all my worst fears realized, in a room full of everyone in town. They’ll talk about this for years to come, how no one bid on my offering and I had to leave in shame.
But then a man in the back raises his hand, and I relax a little.
“Thank you, man in the back with the hat,” the auctioneer says. “Do I have $150?”
To my shock, Lennox raises his hand. “$200,” he calls.
“Thank you, two hundred. Do I hear three?”
“Three hundred,” says the man in the back, raising his hand again.
The auctioneer calls for four hundred, and this time Sawyer outbids him, raising it to five hundred.
I just keep staring at all of them, feeling like I’m watching a tennis match, going back and forth. The man in the back bids $550, and Rhett ups it to seven hundred dollars. The man they’re bidding against ups his bid to a thousand dollars, and my eyes bug out of my head.
“Two thousand,” Lennox says easily.
“Five,” counters Sawyer.
The auctioneer can’t even keep up with them as they escalate the price, and he just watches along with me and everyone else as the Sullivan brothers have their own private bidding war.
Their rival goes up to six thousand before he has to drop out, and there’s a look of relief on his face that I don’t blame him for. That’s a lot of money. But the brothers aren’t done yet.
“Eight,” from Rhett.
“Twelve,” from Lennox.
Sawyer ups the ante to twenty, and everyone gasps.
From there, it’s like they’re just throwing numbers around.
Twenty-five, thirty, forty thousand dollars.
By the time they’ve done another round, the bid is up to seventy-five thousand, and everyone is speechless.
This is the kind of money that Sweetwater Lake has never seen before at something like this.
I know this kind of money means nothing to them, with how rich they are, but it’s still makes my head spin to see them rushing to spend it on me like this.
Well, for charity, but still. They’re bidding on me.
Before my contribution was announced, none of them had shown any interest in anything else.
“The bid stands at seventy-five thousand dollars,” the auctioneer says, pausing to clear his throat. “Seventy-five going once, going twice—”
“Hold on,” Sawyer says, putting a hand up. He gestures for his brothers to move in closer. All of them put their heads together for a moment and then Sawyer grins. “Mr. Mayor, would you accept a combined bid from the three of us?”
The mayor blinks, startled. “Of course. What’s your bid?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars,” he says.
There’s a gasp from the crowd because that’s a lot of money for a town like this. Probably more than was raised in the last two festivals combined.
“Two hundred thousand dollars is the bid,” the auctioneer says, sounding like he can’t quite believe it. “Two hundred thousand going once, going twice… Sold!” He bangs his gavel and that’s that. “The winners are these three very generous gentlemen here.”
“Thank you so much for your contribution,” the mayor says.
I’m just standing there, stunned at what just happened. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mayor and the auctioneer both look just as shocked, I would have thought I hallucinated the whole thing. But they do, and Sawyer has his checkbook out, so clearly it was all real.
All three of them stride forward, and Lennox scoops me up off the stage.
“What are you doing?” I ask, laughing a little as some of the shock starts to fade.
“Collecting our prize, Heartbreaker,” he murmurs back. “What does it look like?” I can feel a little of the tremor in his injured side, but he carries me with confidence even with that.
Sawyer and Rhett are close behind, and the crowd of people all but parts as we walk through.
I can hear people whispering, and practically everyone is staring at us.
If my parents are still here, I can only imagine how my mom is going to react to what just happened.
Nothing says upstaging Isabelle like three men spending almost a quarter of a million dollars to get a baking lesson from me.
Now we might actually be accused of causing a scene.
And if there was any question about people in the town knowing that we’re ‘together’, it’s been well and truly answered now. There’s no way anyone could miss it after this.