The Fine Art of Faking It: A Small Town Love Story (Blue Moon Book 6)

by Lucy Score

  Eden’s cart came to an abrupt stop. Mrs. Nordemann, dressed in the head-to-toe black of a widow committed to mourning the decades-old death of her husband, hovered near the aisle entrance. She rivaled Bruce Oakleigh and Minnie Murkle for Blue Moon’s biggest gossip. There was a lot of competition for that title.

  “Eden!” Her lined face broke into a calculating smile. “How lovely to see you in town. We’ve all been wondering when we’d see you. I thought perhaps that handsome Davis Gates was holding you prisoner in that beautiful inn of yours.” Her wink was anything but subtle.

  Eden’s forced smile hurt her jaw. “No captivity,” she said lightly and turned her attention to the bags of dry dog food. Vader and Chewy ate like small horses.

  “Well, I think it’s wonderful about you two,” Mrs. Nordemann said conspiratorially. She plucked a six-pack of canned cat food off the shelf. Eden had been to Mrs. Nordemann’s house every month for the last few years for Book Club and had never once seen a cat.

  “What about us?” Eden asked, not liking one bit how for the first time “us” included Davis Gates.

  “Abandoning your families’ feud and embracing each other… as neighbors of course,” Mrs. Nordemann added quickly with another wink.

  “As neighbors,” Eden echoed.

  People were acting like they’d just signed a peace treaty. She hadn’t realized how their little fifty-year fight had affected the rest of Blue Moon.

  “And you were the one to take the first step. Why I wouldn’t be surprised if that alone netted you the Business of the Year award.”

  Yes, the Business of the Year award was a small acrylic plaque with block lettering congratulating the recipient on vague “service to the community.” Everyone knew that Eden wanted one more than a vacation to the Virgin Islands. Earning that award would symbolize finally putting the past behind her. It meant that her hometown recognized that she was a responsible, upstanding adult who ran a successful business that brought tourism dollars to the community. It meant that everyone would finally have something good to say about her rather than reminiscing about why Blue Moon’s landscaping service had to change their organic lawn fertilizer formula.

  People still felt it necessary to remind her that the new, nonflammable formula wasn’t as good as the old.

  “Eden, hi!” Emma Vulkov, one of Franklin Merrill’s redheaded daughters, waved to her from the mouth of the aisle. One of Franklin Merrill’s redheaded pregnant daughters, Eden remembered. Lips zipped, she waved her greeting.

  “Hello there, Emmaline.” Mrs. Nordemann wiggled her fingers in greeting.

  “Are we still on for Book Club, Mrs. Nordemann?” Emma asked.

  “Of course, my dear. The Pilot and the Puck-Up by Pippa Grant. Have you started it yet?”

  “Not yet, but I have it downloaded,” Emma assured her grabbing a femur-sized bone off the shelf. Emma’s teenage puppy Baxter had a bit of a chewing problem. Fortunately, he was also devastatingly handsome, so it was hard for his parents to stay mad at him.

  “Well, I’ll leave you ladies to your shopping,” Mrs. Nordemann announced. “I’ve got to skedaddle!”

  “Bye, Mrs. Nordemann,” Eden called after her. She sighed with relief when the woman ducked around the corner. “How are… things?” she asked Emma, not sure if asking about the woman’s pregnancy would immediately alert her to the secret Eden knew about her sister.

  Emma brushed her short red hair back from her face. “Things are good. Niko’s painting the nursery and kicked me out because I was critiquing his trim work,” she said cheerfully.

  Emma had surprised Niko on Halloween with the news that the reformed ladies’ man was going to be a daddy. The entire family was still celebrating, most likely the reason her sister Eva wanted to keep her own baby news under wraps for a little longer.

  “How are you doing?” Emma asked.

  Eden didn’t hear the hint she would from most Mooners in the question. The subtle emphasis on “you” with a tilting of the head encouraging her to spill everything. Blue Moon residents were ruthless. Emma was still relatively new to town. She hadn’t been there two full years yet, so there was still plenty of “normal” on her. They’d make sure it rubbed off eventually.

  “I’m fine. Good. The inn is busy,” Eden said.

  “I heard you’ve got an unexpected guest,” Emma said innocently.

  Dang it. Emma was sneakier than she’d expected.

  “Yeah, there was a fire at the winery, and Davis needed a place to stay for a few days. It’s just temporary,” she added quickly. “Sounds like it was a stink-bombing gone wrong.”

  “Only in Blue Moon, right?” Emma laughed and rolled her eyes.

  “It’s a shame that a prank can do so much damage,” Eden said, thinking about the damage to her life having Davis under her roof was inflicting.

  “How much you want to bet it was a senior citizen brigade hopped up on pot brownies and running amuck?” Emma joked.

  “I doubt it. They really cracked down on what they call ‘senior clumping’ after the incident of 2003.” Eden pointed out.

  Emma blinked at her.

  “Never mind,” Eden murmured.

  17

  After picking up the flowers from Every Bloomin’ Thing, Eden had just enough time to squeeze in a quick stop at her parents’ house on the way back to the inn. The grocery store was out of dried lavender, Eden’s not-so-secret ingredient in the butter she served with her biscuits. “Mom? Dad? Are you guys home?” Eden called pushing in the front door without knocking. There was no point. Half the time her parents were in their basement recording studio working on their guided meditation albums and didn’t hear visitors troop inside.

  “Back in the kitchen,” her mother called.

  Eden hesitated. “Are you fully clothed?” She’d walked in on her parents naked more times than she ever cared to catalogue. It was a major con to being born to hippies that didn’t understand social constraints like clothing.

  “Mostly,” her father yelled.

  “Ugh.” Eden left the living room and turned sideways in the hallway to skirt past the overflowing bookcase her mother had found on the curb. There’d been no space for it, so her father had plopped it in the hallway to the kitchen temporarily. That was seventeen years ago.

  The kitchen was bright and warm and in desperate need of updating. The yellow linoleum countertop peeled up on the corner of the peninsula. The wood paneling had been painted a street line yellow before Eden had been born, and no one had thought to change it since. There was a small collection of macramé plant holders hanging in front of the breakfast nook window. Her father was wearing underwear and an apron decorated with chickens.

  “Jeez, Dad!”

  “All the important bits are covered,” he insisted. Ned Moody slid in at barely five-foot-eight. He had a scrawny build that, for some reason, her mother found irresistible. Lilly Ann was perched on the countertop swinging her bare feet while Ned fried eggs.

  “Want a fried egg sandwich, sweetheart?” Lilly Ann offered.

  “No thanks, Mom. I just needed to raid your lavender stash.”

  “You know where to find it,” her mother sang, waving her braceleted hand in the direction of the pantry cabinet. “Oh! While you’re here, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “What’s that?” Eden asked, opening the cabinet door and wrinkling her nose at the chaos. Organization was not her parents’ forte.

  “Hmmmm,” her mother hummed. Neither was remembering things.

  “Was it about Atlantis?” Eden’s older sister lived in New Jersey with her plumber husband and their six kids.

  “Noooo. I don’t think so.”

  Eden moved a sticky jar of paprika out of the way and stretched an arm into the back of the cabinet.

  “About Thanksgiving?” Ned suggested.

  “Oh!” Lilly Ann breathed. “I forgot about that, too. Sweetheart, your father and I aren’t going to be here for Thanksgiving.
Atlantis invited us in for the holiday, and then we’re finally using that scratch-off money for a weekend getaway to Atlantic City.”

  Her parents were under the constant assumption that someday their ship would come in. They just had to “open themselves to the favors of fortune.” Which meant buying copious amounts of scratch-off tickets and spending the second Sunday of every month at the casino and race track. They were still waiting for that ship, but having a damn good time doing it.

  “That sounds like fun,” Eden said, finding the collection of baggies behind a jar of Marshmallow Fluff.

  Triumphantly she freed one of the bags. “Dad! This is not lavender.” She tossed the bag to him and he stuffed it in his apron pocket.

  “Huh. I wondered where that got to.”

  “Aha!” Lilly Ann’s exclamation caught Eden’s attention. “I remember what it was! And I am about to be absolutely furious with you!”

  “Me?” Eden deadpanned.

  “Yes you! My daughter who is harboring a horrible human being who doesn’t deserve the lovely roof you’ve put over his head.”

  Hell. Eden had hoped—futilely—that her parents had missed the news.

  “Mom, what was I supposed to do?” She finally wrestled a baggy of lavender out of the depths of the pantry.

  “Well, first of all, you shouldn’t have tried to burn the man’s house down again,” her father chastised.

  “Dad! I had nothing to do with the fire!”

  “That’s what you said last time,” her mother pointed out.

  Ned scooped up an egg and dropped it on a piece of bread.

  “Extra cheese on mine, darling,” Lilly Ann said.

  “Anything for you, buttercup.”

  “What were we talking about again? Oh, yes! I won’t stand for my daughter opening her home to a Gates.” Her mother said “Gates” as if it were a synonym for a murderer who had just punched a baby and told her mother to get back in the kitchen where she belonged.

  “It’s just temporary, Mom. And if it makes you feel any better, I hate having him there.”

  “That, that, that… very bad person,” her mother, who was terrible with insults, began, “swapped out our organic weed control spray with a non-organic formula and then told everyone they were eating toxins when we brought spinach and black bean brownies to the bake sale!”

  “That was actually Davis’s father,” Eden pointed out.

  “What about the time we drove all the way to Cleary for Christmas shopping and were circling the shopping center parking lot for a space, and Davis refused to back out of his space for an hour until someone called mall security?” Eden’s father asked, wielding the spatula like a weapon.

  Eden rolled her eyes. “That was you in the parking space and Davis’s grandma waiting for you to back out.”

  Her parents shared a frown. “Oh, yeah. I guess it was,” Ned said.

  Lilly Ann giggled. “That was funny. She was hanging out of her sunroof, honking with her foot and giving everyone the middle finger.”

  Ned snapped his fingers. “A ha! Davis Gates broke my little girl’s heart when he stood her up for the HeHa Dance!”

  “Awh, dad—”

  “I’ll never forget the look on Atlantis’s face when she came home that night. Devastation.” He shook his head in fatherly regret.

  “That was me! Not Atlantis!” Eden groused.

  “Are you sure?” Ned asked with a frown.

  “I’m positive!”

  “Then why are you letting him stay with you? He should just set up camp in a cardboard refrigerator box and panhandle for scraps,” her mother said with a decisive nod.

  Eden’s watch buzzed. “Shoot! I have to go. I have guests coming in.” She swooped in and pressed quick kisses to her parents’ cheeks. “I’ll call you later,” she promised.

  “Still mad at you,” Lilly Ann called after her. “Love you!”

  Eden made it back to the inn with minutes to spare. She wrestled the flowers and gift bag out of her backseat and hightailed it in the backdoor. “Please don’t be early. Please don’t be early,” she chanted through the kitchen.

  “Are they here yet?” she hissed, poking her head out into the lobby.

  “Who?” Sunny blinked.

  Eden gritted her teeth. “The last-minute guests I told you about.”

  “Oh, them. Not yet.” Sunny went back to bopping to a beat that only she could hear.

  “Perfect!” Eden hustled across the lobby, gifts and flowers in tow. She dashed down the hall and came to a screeching halt in the doorway to the sunroom. Snack time was underway, and Davis Gates, her sworn enemy, her high school nemesis, was pouring wine and plating cookies like it was his job.

  He was charming the small weekday crowd with Blue Moon stories.

  His gaze flitted to the door and found her. While Mr. Tottingham stuck his snoot in a sample of merlot and called it “passable,” Davis gave Eden a little smile and an “I’ve got this” wave off.

  She didn’t have time to argue. The front door bell tinkled, announcing new guests. Eden dashed upstairs, praying that Sunny would take her usual ten minutes of chatting and spacing out to check them in. She burst into the room and placed the flowers and gifts just so on the table in the front window. Impossible to miss.

  Eden gave the suite a cursory glance. It smelled lightly of lemons, clean and fresh. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed. The towels in the bathroom were folded wrong. Wrong but still acceptable.

  What caught her attention was the towel on the vanity. Davis had fashioned it into a heart. It was thoughtful, sweet, and not at all what she expected from the man.

  BEAUTIFICATION COMMITTEE GUIDELINES

  SECTION IVXII: LEGAL AND MORAL RAMIFICATIONS OF MEDDLING IN CITIZENS’ LIVES

  While the Beautification Committee prefers to operate beyond the law, it is important that certain societal and legal guidelines are at least recognized if not followed to the letter. The quest for true love can’t always be defined within the scope of what’s “legal.”

  (Unrelated Editor’s Note: Beautification Committee President Bruce Oakleigh would like to take this moment to remind committee members that no committee business should be discussed outside the committee, including any written comments about ignoring the law.)

  18

  The balloons were purple. The linens were pink. Trays of delicate frosted cupcakes and cookies decorated the buffet. The manicurists were set up in the corner of the sunporch armed with polishes and removers and ear plugs should the noise level become a problem. There was a glittering tiara at the head of the table waiting for the guest of honor. The music was poppy and kid friendly. And the dogs had been turned outside for a romp… far away from the nose-height baked goods.

  Not a single detail had been overlooked.

  Eden surveyed the sun porch with satisfaction. Miss Aurora Decker, daughter and stepdaughter to Gia and Beckett Pierce, was in for quite the birthday celebration.

  She’d chosen a Sunday afternoon tea party for a dozen of her closest friends as her official celebration. The family party had taken place the day before.

  Gia referred to it as Birthdaypalooza and announced that she had every intention of locking herself in her lady cave with an entire bottle of wine tonight to celebrate it all being over.

  Eden might do the same. It had been a hectic week with her unintended guest and business as usual at the inn. Fortunately, Davis had left the inn this morning, and she didn’t expect him back until later this evening. Not that she was keeping track of his schedule. She was still avoiding him.

  Mainly because she was worried she might choke on the words “thank you.” And also because of the whole “pack of rabid matchmakers breathing down their neck” thing. Eden had lived in Blue Moon all her life and was aware of the B.C.’s striking list of victories. Whether it was magic or hypnotic suggestion, she wasn’t going to get close enough to Davis to find out why the B.C. was so successful.

  Thankfully, t
he inn was a Davis-free afternoon. Just what she needed.

  “Wow, Eden. You’ve outdone yourself.” Mayor and town attorney Beckett Pierce, in his version of Sunday casual—dockers and a button down, hauled an armful of gift bags into the room.

  “Thank you. Where’s our woman of the hour?” Eden asked.

  “She’s with Gianna. I gracefully bowed out of driving half a dozen seven-and eight-year-olds over,” he confessed.

  “Chickened out, you mean,” Eden teased.

  “Gianna gets her bottle of wine and foot rub tonight. I got my quiet five-minute car ride.”

  From the grin on his face, Eden gathered that Beckett was looking forward to giving that foot rub tonight.

  She directed him to the gift table and started pouring waters in thick goblets that she’d chosen with clumsy kid hands in mind.

  Guests began to trickle in. Girls in frilly pink, reluctant-looking boys, and of course Aurora herself. She arrived wearing a feather boa and a tutu worn over star leggings. Her red curls exploded off of her head in a display of independence that said, “No, I didn’t brush my hair for my own party.”

  “Bucket!” Aurora skipped over to Beckett and launched herself at him.

  “Shortcake!” Beckett hefted his stepdaughter into the air despite having seen her minutes ago.

  Gia bustled in mother-henning four other kids and juggling baby Lydia on her hip. Evan, Aurora’s older brother, shuffled in with his hands in his pockets.

  “Ready for the party?” Eden asked him brightly.

  He sighed a worldly sigh for thirteen. “Family obligations.”

  “Well, if your family obligations allow, there’s a library across the hall with absolutely zero eight-year-olds in it,” Eden told him, nudging him toward the doorway so he could see.

  “Awesome.”

  “This looks perfect, Eden,” Gia sighed, handing the baby off to Beckett who gave them each a kiss on the head.

  “If Aurora’s happy, I’m happy.”

  More guests arrived—including a reluctant Joey Pierce and her soon-to-be-adopted son Caleb. Joey helped herself to two cookies off the adult treat table and promised she’d help with crowd control as long as she wasn’t forced to play any dumb games.