The Fine Art of Faking It

by Lucy Score

  He swept her into his arms beside Mrs. Nordemann and Ernest Washington. Ernest was wearing his cleanest coveralls over a green elf sweater. The Volkswagen salesman looked positively festive next to Mrs. Nordemann’s long black cocktail dress.

  “You look stunning,” Davis said to Eden.

  “Oh, aren’t you sweet?” Mrs. Nordemann responded, fluffing her gray hair. “I tried a new eyeliner.”

  Eden cleared her throat. “And it looks wonderful on you. Purple is definitely your color.”

  Davis spun her away melding into swaying couples and silver and gold lights from the DJ booth. “I meant you are stunning,” he said again.

  “You don’t have to sweet talk me, Gates,” she teased.

  “I’m not sweet talking you. I’m wooing you. It’s what boyfriends do.”

  “Are we really doing this?” Eden asked.

  “Hell yes, we’re doing this.”

  “What about our parents?”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re not going to be happy,” she reminded him. Eden needed to make sure Davis had thought this through.

  “Eden,” Davis said, tilting her chin up. “Our parents’ problems are their problems. You and I can and will create our own.”

  She took a deep breath and the plunge. “Are you doing this just to make me happy?” It was the last question that she had before she’d give herself over to the glee, the hope. If he wasn’t in this for himself, they were going to have problems bigger than a family feud.

  His hands tightened on her hips, and she reveled in the feel of his touch. “Eden, I’m doing this for purely selfish reasons. I want to be with you.”

  “That’s why you didn’t listen to me when I said we needed to break up?” she pressed.

  “For once in my life, I am crystal clear on what I want. What’s right for me. And believe it or not, that something is you.”

  She snuggled closer to him and felt him harden against her. “I owe you an apology for the last fifteen years.”

  “Eden, we’ve spent enough time in the past. You can spend the next fifteen making it up to me.”

  “Davis, I was so wrong about you, about not giving us a chance. I’ve been so wrong about so many things and I’m terrified that it’s all too late. That you won’t be able to forgive me.”

  “Sweetheart, you were forgiven before you did anything worth apologizing for. I just had to figure out how to make you realize you were head over heels for me. We’ve both made mistakes. Hell, there are multi-generational mistakes at play. But I’d rather talk about our future.”

  “Oh? And what does that look like to you?”

  “I’m foreseeing special overnight wine tour packages. Discounts on wine purchased at the inn. Private winery tours or paint classes for inn guests.”

  “You’re turning me on,” she teased. “You know I love it when you talk work.”

  “I see us living together, arguing about wine labels and guest room linens. Unless of course, my father does fire me—I gave him the option today. Then you can hire me as your assistant innkeeper. I’ll scrub toilets for you and mow the lawn.”

  “You didn’t tell him to fire you!” Eden gasped. “The winery means everything to you!”

  He nodded, stroking those warm palms over her back. “I most certainly did. If my father wants an operations manager who kisses his ass, he can hire outside the family. I’m done with the status quo. It’s me and my ideas, or the family legacy gets turned over to a stranger. You, on the other hand, mean everything to me. I’ll walk away from the winery, but not you, Eden. Never again.”

  “I love you.” Eden blurted it out before she could chicken out. He’d shown up with a marching band after she’d rejected him. The least she could do was tell him how she felt.

  Davis froze, mid-sway on the dance floor. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t feel like you have to say it back,” she said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that I don’t know how or when it happened, but I’m in love with you, and before you showed up with the marching band, I was trying to figure out how to back out of the whole break-up thing. I’d rather be happy than right. Although in this case, I wasn’t even right. And I’d rather be happy and wrong with you.” And now she was babbling.

  “Done?” Davis asked with a warm smile.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth again.

  “Good. Because I love you, Eden Moody. And someday we’re going to get married and have babies and dogs and force our families into regular social situations. But for now, it’s just you and me, and I’m really happy about that.”

  A crop of goosebumps erupted on every square inch of Eden’s body. Tears prickled the back of her eyes as Bon Jovi wailed over the speakers. And somewhere deep inside her, a seventeen-year-old girl finally got her win.

  52

  Leaning heavily on his high school gym class dance lessons, Davis whirled Elvira Eustace around the floor. Their feet tapped out a fun beat while hologram snowflakes fell from the ceiling of the gym, highlighting Elvira’s salt and pepper curls.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” a voice shouted over the music. “If I could have your attention for one moment.” Bruce Oakleigh blew into the microphone on the blue and silver swagged stage. He was wearing a blue sweater vest with a chubby snowman on it. The music cut off abruptly.

  “Thank you. Gather ‘round. Gather ‘round.” He waved the crowd toward the stage. “As you know, we like to present the Blue Moon Business of the Year Award during our annual HeHa celebration.”

  Davis felt Eden tense next to him.

  “Every year, the city council strives to recognize a business that exemplifies Blue Moon’s mission of inclusivity, community service, and all-around excellent karma. Or, depending on our town budget, it is awarded to the business that makes the largest donation.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Eden hissed.

  “I’m just kidding, folks,” Bruce chuckled, holding up his hands.

  Davis squeezed Eden’s hand and held his breath.

  “As always, the committee had its work cut out for it in determining the business that best exemplifies our mission. But this year, we had a clear winner. This year’s recipient not only made it a point to be involved in the community, to give back in creative ways, and to show a vast growth that goes beyond mere economics and success but was also willing to embrace their neighbors in a very literal sense.”

  “Pick me. Pick me. Pick me,” Eden muttered under her breath.

  “This year’s recipient was brave enough to put their happiness in the hands of his or her community, which is a level of vulnerability and openness that we should all strive for.”

  “Moveitalong,” Ellery coughed into her hand at Eden’s elbow.

  “This year’s recipient, if I may wax poetic for a several minutes—”

  “Bruce, we’ve only got about ten seconds before people start sitting down and falling asleep,” Beckett pointed out, taking the stage and doing his mayoral best to move things along.

  Bruce looked disappointed. “I suppose it’s too much to request a fanfare or a drumroll when we announce Eden Moody’s name?”

  Shrill whistles cut through the crowd. Sammy and Layla reacted with raucous hoots and squeals.

  “What did he say?” Eden asked, squeezing Davis’s bicep. “Was that my name?”

  “Get up there, gorgeous,” he said, giving her a gentle shove toward the stage.

  The DJ played a riff as she walked across the stage, and Davis looked on with satisfaction. Yes, few things were more rewarding than seeing the one you loved get something they so desperately wanted. She was radiant. And she was his. He’d fought for her and earned her.

  Bruce shook Eden’s hand and leaned into the microphone. “Unfortunately, due to budget constraints, we couldn’t afford a trophy this year, but you will have the satisfaction of knowing that had there been a trophy, you would have received it.”

  Eden made
eye contact with Davis, and they both shared a private grin. Of course there was no trophy this year. He’d give her one of his… or better yet, he’d have one made for her, Davis decided.

  “Eden Moody,” Bruce said grandly. “You are a shining example of everything we hope our citizens will embrace in Blue Moon. You’re a hard worker who isn’t above volunteering her time and opening her doors to the less fortunate.”

  Davis wasn’t sure how he felt about being labeled “less fortunate.”

  “You have worked tirelessly to build a business, and we’re all proud of the adult and entrepreneur and wonderful human being you’ve become.”

  It looked to Davis that Eden’s eyes were extra bright under the stage spotlight.

  She graciously accepted the invisible trophy, posing mid-hearty handshake with Bruce for Anthony Berkowicz and The Monthly Moon’s camera.

  Still gripping Eden’s hand, Bruce leaned into the microphone again. “The Beautification Committee would like to take this time to invite Davis Gates to join us on stage,” he announced.

  If Bruce was intending to have Eden and Davis share the Business of the Year award, he was about to be incredibly disappointed.

  “Come on up here, Davis,” Bruce said again.

  Eyes on Eden’s face, Davis climbed the risers onto the makeshift stage.

  Bruce dropped Eden’s hand, abandoning the invisible trophy, and gestured to someone in the crowd.

  “While we’re doling out the good news here,” Bruce said. “We’ll keep the ball rolling with another happy announcement.”

  He positioned Davis next to Eden before turning back to the crowd.

  “Davis, this is truly fortuitous timing. All of Blue Moon is aware of the tragedy you suffered due to that unfortunate and completely accidental fire. Which is why it’s my great pleasure to announce that you’re the winner of our special Helping Hands Raffle!”

  Amethyst Oakleigh took the stage wielding a large glass jar. The crowd, hopped up on good deeds and sketchy adult punch, cheered as if a multimillion dollar lottery winner had just been introduced.

  Davis had never heard of the Helping Hands Raffle before, and judging by Eden’s expression, neither had she.

  “You may not recall entering this completely above-board raffle, but I can assure you did!” Bruce laughed like a nervous Santa Claus. “Here are your winnings! Two hundred and thirty-six dollars!” He handed it over to Davis in a large pickle jar crammed with wadded-up dollar bills.

  That explained where the $8 muffin money went.

  Bruce shoved the microphone into his face.

  “Um. I don’t know what to say,” Davis told the crowd. They looked at him expectantly as if the pressure of their attention would turn him into an eloquent public speaker. Eden slipped an arm through his. “Thank you for this win?” he said into the microphone. The crowd applauded enthusiastically.

  “Wonderful. Wonderful,” Bruce crowed. “Eden, do you have a few words you’d like to share about your Business of the Year Award?”

  Eden stepped up to the microphone elbowing both Davis and Bruce out of the way. “As a matter of fact, I do. I have a lot to say about this town.”

  Davis held his breath. He knew exactly what old Eden would say and it would involve a middle finger or two.

  “The first thing that needs to be said is thank you.”

  Davis let his breath out in a soft sigh.

  Eden glanced over her shoulder at him and gave him a slow wink. “It’s an honor to be part of a town that is so invested in the health and happiness of its residents. And while we may not always agree on methods, good intentions are at the root of every act… no matter how hair-brained or ridiculous or destructive they may seem.” She gave Bruce a long look that had his neck turning pink.

  She admired her pretend, invisible trophy. “It’s no secret that I set out to beat out the winery for this award. And now that I have it in my hands—so to speak—I understand that we’re all in this together. This invisible award is for each and every one of us who make the lives of our friends and neighbors better. Every one of you deserves a piece of this trophy because together, we are more than just people and businesses and private agendas. We’re a community.”

  Fitz lit a lighter and held it aloft. Other flames flickered to life around the gym. Those without lighters turned on their cell phone flashlights.

  “Community! Woo!” hooted Rupert Shermanski from the back of the crowd.

  “Um, thank you. Oh, and I’m sorry for doubting the B.C. and messing up your plans. That’s all I—thanks,” Eden said, backing away from the microphone.

  Bruce chuckled. “Oh, this was our plan all along. We knew all we had to do was get you two under the same roof.”

  “But I broke up with him,” Eden reminded Bruce.

  He waved away her words. “All part of the plan, my dear. You wouldn’t have realized how wrong you were until you got exactly what you thought you wanted.”

  Her jaw dropped and Bruce gave her a wink.

  “Diabolical,” Davis whispered.

  Bruce resumed his unofficial master of ceremonies role, leaving Eden blinking in shock. “If you’ll notice, there’s a collection jar at the back of the room. The Beautification Committee performs its essential community services at no charge…”

  “Come on,” Eden whispered, tugging Davis off stage.

  The change in his pickle jar rattled as he hurried down the steps after her. Rather than rejoining the crowd, Eden jerked her head toward the hallway.

  They pushed through the door, leaving the winter wonderland behind them for the energy-efficient LED-lit hallway.

  “What are we doing?” Davis asked as Eden linked her fingers with his and pulled him further into the belly of the school.

  Fifteen years later, and these halls still smelled like desperation and homemade deodorant.

  “Living out our high school fantasies.”

  “I don’t know what your fantasies were, but I’m fairly sure we could be arrested for mine,” Davis pointed out.

  She towed him down the hallway, change jingling.

  The first classroom they passed was lit up and Eden came to a screeching halt outside the door. “Are those—?”

  “Our parents,” Davis observed. His mother and father and Bryson were seated in the front row of the classroom. Lily Ann and Ned were sprawled out in the back row. The front of the room was occupied by most of the Beautification Committee. Ellery was lecturing about something on a whiteboard under the title Feuds Are Bad. She didn’t seem happy with the answers she was getting from her pupils.

  “Are they re-educating our parents?” Eden asked.

  Just then Lily Ann spotted them in the hallway. She fluttered up to the door, abandoning her desk. “Get us out of here, Eden!” she shouted through the glass window. She tried the doorknob, and it rattled but didn’t turn.

  “Are they locked in there?” Eden asked, trying the knob on her side.

  Ellery pushed her way to the door, hip-checking Lily Ann out of the way. “Everything is fine! All under control. Go away!” she yelled over Lily Ann and now Tilly’s screeches. Ellery yanked the window shade down.

  “I don’t even care if that’s considered abduction. They’ve already committed arson. Might as well work their way through the felony As,” Davis admitted.

  They continued their stroll down the hallway they’d last walked together as teenagers. The lockers, then a dingy school bus yellow, were now partially hidden under a colorful mural of flowers, doves, rainbows, and peace signs.

  She tried every door they passed. One opened in her hand, and she stuck her head into the room. “Whoops! Sorry Phoebe. Franklin. Didn’t know this room was occupied,” Eden said shutting the door with a decisive click. “Looks like our favorite town grandparents are enjoying some private time,” Eden said sheepishly.

  Davis smothered a laugh with a cough.

  “A ha!” Eden said, triumphantly turning the door knob on the Household Manag
ement and Partnership classroom.

  “Have a couples roll-playing script you want to work on?” Davis asked, stepping into the room. It was much the same as it had been fifteen years ago with lab tables.

  She turned to face him, ran her hands down his shirt, and let her fingers linger on his belt buckle. “I was thinking maybe we could practice the fine art of make-up sex.”

  Davis felt his blood empty from his head. He dumped his pickle jar on a nearby lab table and grabbed her hands. “Eden, I…” He had no words. Hadn’t he fantasized about a moment like this for most of his senior high career?

  53

  She locked the door and pulled the shade, enjoying the tangible nerves that Davis was firing off behind her. “I have twenty minutes before my volunteer shift in the inclusivity room,” she told him.

  Eden turned on the salt lamps at the front of the room before returning to him.

  “Don’t you want to spend that time basking in the congratulations of your friends?” he asked, his voice raspy as she turned and loosened his tie and worked the buttons of his shirt.

  “I want to spend that time closing our circle. It all began here,” she said, conversationally as she reached under the skirt of her dress and shimmied out of her underwear. “And I’d like our new beginning to get off to the right start.”

  His erection was already straining impressively at the confines of his black trousers.

  “I feel like I should point out that this is reckless and irresponsible,” he said, swallowing when she tugged his shirt free of his waist band.

  “That’s what I’m going for.”

  “Just so long as we’re on the same page,” Davis breathed a second before his mouth crushed down on hers.

  In one swift move, he backed her against the wall, her shoulders erasing yesterday’s class assignment from the whiteboard. His hands were everywhere, turning her skin to fire, her core to lava.

  “Oh, fuck,” was his strangled response when he found her thigh-high stockings under her dress. “You’re my fantasy come to life, you know that?”