Chapter 34 Gwendolyn
Gwendolyn
“Where do you want this one, Gwen?”
I glance down at the notebook in my hand as if I had not already memorized the layout after looking it over three hundred times the last couple of weeks. Now that it was final and actively being put into place, suddenly I forgot everything and questioned my instincts.
I twist the page to match the layout of the town square in front of me.
“Over there. Mary specifically requests the far corner.” I point in the direction of the back of the vendor alley we created. “Just make sure you face hers so the opening is toward the people so they can enter.”
The volunteers nod their heads in agreement and begin their perfected dance of using a forklift to move everything around. Though I feel sick to my stomach when I hear a faint creak in the wood of the frame.
“Be careful, please!” I call out, cringing when it happens again. My shoulders slump when I remember it wouldn’t matter either way now. “We can’t afford to make another one this late,” I sigh, flipping through the layout again.
“Looking mighty fine, Gwendolyn.”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the booming voice suddenly coming from beside me. Hand to my chest, I heave a breath as I take in who it is.
“Mr. Mayor, you know you can call me Gwen.”
A quick smirk flashes on his face, but I can’t get a good read on his expression from behind his shiny Aviator sunglasses. Just a reflection of the sun, the beginning stages of the festival, and my silhouette that looks incredibly small in the frames.
“Only a few more days to go. Are we going to be ready by then?” Even though he’s mostly facing the square, I can feel his eyes on me. The thickness of his appraisal sends skittering shivers across my skin.
I nod my head, hiding the giant gulp of anxiety I swallow back.
“Absolutely, sir. We are on track to have all of the booths polished up and set in place by tonight. Decorations begin tomorrow. Everything will be good to go for your inspection on Friday morning. Then, after your clearance, we will open it for the vendors to do what they need to do to be ready for Saturday. I expect the turnout to be the best we’ve seen after the social media ads.
We even have more out-of-town vendors this year. ”
I stare up at Logan’s father, waiting for acknowledgment that the timeline is appropriate to his schedule.
Because everything must go through him, and I don’t even want to think about what would happen if something wasn’t up to his code.
We didn’t have the time—or funds, apparently—to change much from the plan we already have.
In his moment of silence, I take the time to really look at him.
Sure, I’ve seen the man in various settings over my lifetime.
But I had never been this close without a slew of people vying for his attention.
I also hadn’t been actively sleeping with his son until recently.
I try not to squirm at the memories of the last few days with Logan.
Getting heated over him isn’t exactly the best thing to do when his father is standing right beside me and scrutinizing my hard work.
I can’t deny they look alike. They have the same brown hair, though Mr. Spencer is streaked with gray. The same naturally tanned skin. And it’s clear Logan gets his height from his dad, though Logan surpassed him some time around high school.
And while I can’t see his eyes, I know they don’t match his son’s beautiful swirling hazel orbs.
No, those came from his mother. For that, I’m grateful, because when he slides his sunglasses off and turns to me fully, his dark brown eyes look dangerous.
Angry. Dark. Like something lies beneath them just waiting to lash out.
I take a small step back on instinct, then silently pray he didn’t notice. One thing about men like this is that you don’t want them to sense any sort of apprehension—which is exactly what is tightening my muscles right now.
A nagging sensation pricks at my mind of a memory of Logan telling me his father wasn’t always the golden boy of Willow Grove that everyone perceived him as. I had never really noticed it until right now.
“I will also be coming for an inspection Saturday morning to make sure the vendors are up to the standard I need.”
My eyes widen in shock. “And if they are not?” The words are out before I can stop them, but it’s a valid question.
His eyes narrow on me. “Then they don’t belong here.”
“We have over twenty vendors this year. More than ever. And I can promise you right now that every single one of them belongs here.”
He stares down at me, stepping forward into the space I had just stepped back from. “I know you think that, Ms. Prescott. However, we have a new standard as we prepare to enter a new era of Willow Grove. I expect everything to be in top shape, and then I want it to go above that.”
“You mean when Logan becomes mayor?”
Mr. Spencer chuckles darkly. Another difference I am grateful for, because when Logan laughs it’s like music to my ears. When his father does, it sends alarm bells ringing.
“Something like that.” He raises an eyebrow at me, tilting his head to watch me. I squirm under the uncomfortable feeling of his eyes on me. My fingers begin to fiddle with the sleeves of my sweater, which he clocks quickly. A smarmy smile unfurls on his lips.
“I know you two have been spending more time together lately. Thanks to my wife and her idea that you two would be a great choice to head the most important event of the year. Has he said anything to you about the plans for this town?”
Plans? What kind of plans do you need for a small town in the mountains?
I shake my head, unable to voice an answer out of fear it would just croak out.
He nods. “Good. Now, let me make something clear, Ms. Prescott.” He leans forward into my face, and it takes everything in me to not flinch back.
“Whatever is going on between you two is nothing. It’ll fizzle out as soon as this,” his finger swirls around, “is over and he can start focusing on real life again. This was just a test for him, you know. To see if he would listen. To see if he would do us proud. Which he is succeeding in, mostly. Do you know what the only problem is?”
I shake my head again, my lips squeezed tightly between my teeth. I fear I might break the skin if I don’t let go, but I can’t. I’m practically frozen.
“You.”
This time I do flinch. The word might as well be a physical slap the way it hits me across the face.
“How? I’m not–-”
Mr. Spencer straightens back up, rolling his eyes at my sputtering. “You’re a nuisance to my son’s future, Ms. Prescott. Don’t forget that. He’s having fun right now going against my wishes, but he will soon come to his senses and realize what’s right for him.”
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. My fists clench at my sides.
“And that’s not me.”
His disgustingly faux smirk is back as he slides his sunglasses back on.
“You get it. I always knew you were a smart girl. Great mind for how to run a business, though that could easily change if you’re not careful.
” Placing his hands into the pockets of his trousers, he continues on.
“Like I said before, I’ll be doing a second sweep Saturday morning.
I expect you to be here to fix anything I see wrong.
This is a big weekend for Willow Grove. I need it to be in top shape. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” It’s automatic, the words, and I tell myself to just let it be. But I can’t. “Actually, I don’t. Can you tell me why this is so important? We always do this event, usually the same way every year. Why is this one different?”
I see him side-eye me while still pretending to watch everyone around us hard at work moving the booths into their right spots. I also see the way his jaw ticks a few times as he clenches his teeth.
“It’s like you said, Gwendolyn. Logan is to become mayor of this town.
I want to make sure he has the best setup for when he takes his rightful place.
Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he glances down at the incredibly large gold watch on his wrist. “I have a lunch meeting with Logan and Camila. Those two,” he lets out a low whistle that feels like a knife straight to my heart.
“Now that’s a couple that will last a lifetime. ”
Tears begin to prickle at the back of my eyes, and I tell myself this is what he wants, willing them not to fall in front of the person that will probably enjoy my weakness showing.
Mr. Spencer’s grin turns absolutely unnerving. “Have a nice day, Ms. Prescott.”
I keep my glare on him as he walks right through the middle of the festival zone, stopping to shake hands with the townsfolk and chat for a moment. Everyone looks so happy to see him. Little do they know he just shook me up so hard I can feel my body vibrating with anger.
“What the hell was all that about?”
“Oh my God!” I screech, whirling around on Piper. “Would people stop coming out of nowhere?”
Her blue eyes are wide, and her lips lock tight, holding in a laugh when I glare at her. “I called your name, like, three times after Mr. Mayor walked away. What did he say to you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I roll my eyes, trying to hide just how much our conversation affected me. “That’s just my pale skin.”
But Piper isn’t buying it as she shakes her head, shifting the large brown box in her arms to one of her hips. “Nope, this is something more. Spill it, babe.”
Quickly weighing if I can get away with a lie, I sigh when Piper lifts a brow at me. “He more or less just threatened the cafe.”
“What?! Why the hell would he do that?”
I shrug and blow out a deep breath in hopes that it’ll stop the tingly sensation I’m getting in my extremities. Not sure if I’m ready to dive into it right now with my head spinning, I attempt to change the subject.
“What’s in the box?”