Chapter 47
Lauren and Pumpkin pulled into The Friendly Bean’s parking lot. The lot was nearly full, with cars circling as drivers searched for spots. Lauren eased into one of the last spaces and shut off the engine. “This is going to be a night,” she murmured.
She stepped out of the car and slipped off her leather jacket, tossing it onto the passenger seat. She wouldn’t need it once she was inside. The energy alone would keep her warm.
Tonight wasn’t like other karaoke nights.
Usually, she wore jeans and a soft sweater.
But this felt different. She smoothed her hands over the red satin sheath that skimmed her frame, the fabric catching the fading light with a soft, liquid sheen.
It was simple, elegant, and bold enough to feel special.
She looked down at her strappy heels. “I really hope I don’t regret these,” she said under her breath.
Lauren was shocked that so many people had donated to hear her sing tonight.
They were expecting something from her, something more than casual, more than fun.
She had rehearsed every song during the week, pushing herself and refining her phrasing, breath, and emotion until she felt satisfied, particularly with “At Last.” This, she realized, wasn’t just karaoke anymore. This was performance.
Even Pumpkin had risen to the occasion. Fresh from the groomer, her coat was soft and glossy, and sparkly red bows adorned her ears.
She looked festive, faintly ridiculous, and completely adorable.
“You’re the cutest part of this whole thing,” Lauren said, smiling as she lifted her from the car and set her down. Together, they headed toward the café.
The storefront had been transformed. Through the windows, Lauren could see tables adorned with small bud vases of red roses and baby’s breath, glowing softly in the warm light.
A balloon arch in shades of red, pink, and opalescent ivory stood to the left of the entrance. A chalkboard sign announced:
Valentine’s Karaoke Night—All Donations Benefit the Local Food Bank. Professional Photos $5
People clustered outside, talking and laughing.
The owner stood beneath the arch, adjusting a length of satin draping. He looked up and broke into a grin. “Well, would you look at the two of you!” he called. “My favorite gals have arrived, and you look beautiful.”
Lauren laughed, warmth spreading through her chest. “This is a big night,” she said. “And I’m proud to be part of it. You’ve put your whole heart into this.” She gestured to the arch. “This is gorgeous.”
He stepped back, admiring his work. “It is, isn’t it?”
“I know things don’t start for another hour,” Lauren said, “but can Pumpkin and I be your first photo-booth customers? I’m afraid once we’re inside, we won’t make it back out.” She reached into her beaded clutch and withdrew a five-dollar bill.
“Of course,” he said, waving her off. “But you’re not paying. Put that away. You’re doing more than enough tonight. The photo’s on me.”
Lauren met his eyes, then smiled and tucked the bill back into her clutch.
“You’re in luck,” he added. “The photographer just got here. You’ll get a professional shot.”
Moments later, the photographer joined them, positioning Lauren beneath the arch. “Chin slightly up … Yes! Now one with your dog. Perfect.”
Pumpkin sat obediently, ears perked, as if she understood the assignment.
“These are going to be fantastic,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get them.”
“Thank you,” Lauren said, stepping aside as a young couple eagerly moved into place.
She and Pumpkin entered the café. Every table was full. People stood along the walls, drinks in hand, voices overlapping in excited conversation. Soft lighting glowed against polished wood, and the hum of anticipation vibrated through the space.
The host spotted her and smiled like an old friend. “There’s a reserved table up front for you and the other requested singers,” he said, bending to greet Pumpkin. “Big night.”
“It sure is,” Lauren said, raising her voice slightly over the noise. She glanced around, then leaned closer. “I think Pumpkin will be happier in her bed in the office.”
“We thought so, too,” he said. “Her water bowl and treats are waiting.”
Pumpkin needed no further encouragement. She navigated the crowd with purpose, tail up, making a beeline for her spot.
Lauren followed and knelt beside her, cupping her little face in her hands. “We might be here longer than usual tonight,” she said. “But we’re doing something really worthwhile.”
Pumpkin’s tail thumped against the bed.
“When it quiets down, I’ll bring you out,” Lauren added. “If you want.”
Another thump.
“Otherwise,” Lauren said, smiling, “just rest up and look adorable.” She stood and made her way to the reserved table.
Seven of the regular singers were already gathered, water bottles at each seat, voices easy and familiar. The karaoke jockey moved between them, confirming song lists and making last-minute notes.
Lauren sat, smoothing her dress over her knees. Her pulse was steady. She was calm. But, underneath it, there was something else. She felt the quiet hum of anticipation that she couldn’t quite name.
The room filled. People lined the perimeter, shoulder to shoulder. At seven o’clock, the spotlights flicked on, illuminating the microphone.
The owner stepped forward. “Welcome,” he said, his voice carrying easily through the room, “to The Friendly Bean’s annual Valentine’s Day Karaoke Night.”
Applause rippled outward.
“Tonight is about love,” he continued. “And what better way to celebrate that than by showing love to those in our community who need it most?” He gestured toward the donation table. “Your generosity tonight will help ensure our neighbors don’t go hungry. Thank you for being part of that.”
The applause swelled.
“And now,” he said, stepping back, “I’ll give you what you came for.”
The karaoke jockey took the owner’s place. “I’ve seen the requests you’ve submitted for these talented singers,” he said, gesturing toward Lauren’s table. “You’ve made excellent choices. And they’ve all worked hard to prepare for you. So, let’s give them a warm welcome.”
The room obliged.
“And to start us off, we’ve got Lauren with that Valentine’s Day classic … ‘My Funny Valentine.’”
Lauren inhaled. This song had been one of her grandmother’s favorites.
She’d sung it with her since she was a child.
She rose, the room seeming to shift around her, and walked toward the microphone.
For a fleeting moment, just before she reached it, a thought slipped in, unbidden.
I wish he could see this. It surprised her.
She stepped behind the microphone, and the music began. The room fell silent. And Lauren sang.
When the final note faded, the room erupted.
Lauren thanked the audience and returned to her seat. Tonight, she thought, settling back into her chair, was going to be special. Even if she didn’t yet know why.