“Well, that sounds damn impressive to me,” I told him, placing my hands wide on his desk and leaning across toward him. “You are Mayor William Jones. Respected. Admired. An All-American baseball player—”
“It was football, actually.”
“Whatever,” I said quickly. “The point is, you don’t need silly acting experience to go out there and put a good face on our island. All you have to do is your job, Mayor. You just have to be you, and I promise you’ll make us all proud.”
“You think so?” he asked, looking hopeful—and a lot more confident.
“I know it. Now let’s get down to that dock to show these people how hospitable we can be, right?”
“Right!” He stood, his normal grin firmly affixed to his face, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s go do this!”
I gestured for him to go ahead and he marched through the door, his head held high. As I followed him from the office, I saw Andrew standing just to the left of the door. He gave me a thumbs up.
“You heard that?” I whispered.
“Yup. You handled it perfectly.”
“Thanks. I just hope—”
“Riley?” the mayor called from the other side of the office. “Don’t dawdle, dear. We can’t be late.”
“Yeah, I’m the one that’s making us late,” I muttered. “Wish me luck,” I said to Andrew.
He patted my shoulder as I passed. “You don’t need luck, Riley.”
The producers weren’t anything like what I expected. I think I had been picturing something a little more glamorous—I mean, these people were from Manhattan, which was basically a million miles from Lilac Bay—metaphorically, at least. I had pictured expensive suits and designer shoes—a cross between Olivia from Scandal and Miranda from Sex and the City. Instead, the two women who led the camera crew off the ferry looked pretty much like—well, like normal people. The blond looked to be around Libby’s age, maybe forty or so, while the brunette was probably my age. Both of the women wore jeans and light jackets; the blonde’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and both wore sensible sneakers on their feet. They could have easily lived right here on the island. The camera crew was even more casual, each of the three guys wearing cargo pants and hoodies, two of them with baseball caps hanging low over their foreheads.
“Hello!” the brunette said, and I immediately recognized the voice of Gina, the woman I had spoken to on the phone several times over the last two weeks.
I hurried forward to introduce myself and Gina shook my hand, smiling warmly. Up close I could see that she was probably a few years younger than me. She wore her brown hair in a shiny, not-too-sleek bob—which may well have been the effect of her journey across the windy bay. Gina had the perfect clear skin and bright energetic eyes that I myself had said goodbye to somewhere around my twenty-eighth birthday. The kind of face that indicated someone too young and carefree to know the meaning of the words under-eye concealer.
“I’m Gina Stanley. We spoke on the phone,” she confirmed, turning to the second producer. “And this is Chris Cunningham.”
The older woman shook my hand, smiling without much of the warmth of her colleague.
“Chris is the executive producer of the Heather Dale Show. She’s just here to get a sense of the town—she’ll mostly be running things from New York.”
“Gina will be here for all of your features,” Chris said, her eyes scanning the dock area. I got the impression that not much got past her. She exuded confidence and efficiency in a way that already had me feeling intimidated. “She’ll manage the crew and run your features and report back to me.”
“We’re going to have a lot of fun,” Gina said, and I wondered if she was trying to reassure me.
“Great,” I said, trying to exude some confidence of my own. “Why don’t you meet our committee?”
I introduced the others and the mayor stepped forward to give the little welcome speech I had prepared for him. Gina smiled and nodded while he spoke, giving every indication of listening, while Chris’s eyes continued to scan the dock. I wondered what this looked like to her, the entryway to our little town. There was a tackle shop up at foot of the dock and the ferry ticket booth across the sidewalk. The marina stretched to our left, small boats bobbing in the water. Directly ahead was the green lawn of Town Square. Walking paths crisscrossed the grass, while towering oak and maple trees provided shade for the benches and the small play set. The square was usually quiet this time of day, but there seemed to be an awful lot of activity for eleven on a Tuesday before the tourist season even started. Which I was sure had nothing to do with the fact that camera crew had arrived.
“We’re so happy to be here,” Gina said, once the mayor had finished his speech. “Why don’t you show us around, and then we can hash out the details for your initial shooting schedule.”
Within minutes of leaving the dock, I was thankful for Gina. She put everyone at ease—even the mayor had stopped sweating. The camera crew started filming the minute they got off the ferry, but Gina assured us they were just gathering B-roll, and told us to pretend like they weren’t even there. As we walked, she kept us talking. What did we do on the island? How long had we lived here? Why did we love it so much? And maybe it was just a facade because she worked in television, but she really seemed to be interested in what we had to say.
We popped into the Lilac Cafe for coffee and she ate three of Rose’s famous cherry fudge cookies, proclaiming them to be the best she’d ever had. She happily greeted the islanders who ever-so-casually crossed our path in the hopes of getting on camera. She listened to the mayor rattle off an incredibly detailed (and incredibly boring) history of the gazebo in Town Square. And when we stopped in at Cora’s for lunch, she asked David’s advice on the best local beer before ordering.
Chris, meanwhile, was mostly silent, scribbling things in a notebook or tapping away at her phone, making me feel nervous every time I looked at her.
“Well, let’s talk about the first feature,” Gina said once we were all sitting at the pub. I’d instructed Cora to save her largest table for us, and it was a good thing I’d thought of it. Half the town seemed to be crowded into the pub, everyone alternating between loud, staged voices as they tried to look natural and silence as they tried to listen into our conversation. Real smooth, guys, I thought.
“For the first episode, we’re mostly looking for an overview,” Gina continued. “We’ll do some interviews with locals and tourists and show some footage of the island itself. And then we’ll take some footage at your event.” She looked over at me. “Do you have an idea of what you’d like to highlight?”
I explained to her about the Fish Fry and its significance for the island.
“So much of our life is focused on the tourism season,” I told her. From the corner of my eye I could see the red light of one of the cameras turn on and I did my best to ignore it, to speak naturally. “The Fish Fry is our chance to pause before all the craziness, to enjoy each other’s company and remember why we love Lilac Bay so much.”
I swallowed, feeling completely self-conscious, but determined all the same.
“It’s the last event of the year that’s really just for us. As much as we love the people who visit our island, this is our time to just be together. And to enjoy our home and everything it gives us.”
“Absolutely,” Rose said, nodding at me. “All of the fish for the event is caught right here in the bay, by islanders who live here all year long. The Fry has always been a reminder of how much we rely on the water around our home—and each other—for sustenance.”
“That sounds perfect,” Gina said, scribbling something in a notebook. “And you can do this next Saturday?”
I agreed, and she went through some of the more technical details of the shoot—what times we would need to be available, how much outside lighting they would need to bring in, how we would help them to select who to interview.
“This first feature is the easiest,” she sai
d. “All we want to do in the first episode is let the audience get to know you and decide if they want to see more.”
“The harder work will come next,” Chris said, breaking her silence. “Assuming you get through.”
“Harder?” Jenny asked, looking nervous.
“The next four features will have some kind of task you’ll have to do,” Gina said. “It might be things we can give you time to prepare for, or it might be something you find out about the day of.”
“What kind of tasks?” Rose asked.
The mayor sat up straighter, smoothing his tie. “Will they be athletic in nature? Because, as you may know, I happen to be a former National Champion and All-American athlete.”
“Maybe,” Gina said cheerily. “But they’ll mostly be things you have to do to show off your teamwork skills as a community.”
Immediately my brain started to spin, wondering what they might have us do.
“Assuming,” Chris said again, “you get through to the next rounds.”
Something about the tone of her voice had my stomach plummeting. Did she not expect us to do well?
“How does the voting work?” Libby asked.
“It’s all online,” Gina said. “People will go to our website and vote for the towns they’d like to see continue. They’ll be able to vote as often as they want for twenty-four hours after the show airs. We’ll announce the winners at the start of the next episode.” She looked around at us. “Which gets a little tricky, because obviously we’ll have already shot the episode before we’re able to announce.”
“How does that work then?” I asked.
“We’ll be taping two weeks ahead,” she explained. “That’s the time we need for editing. Which means you very well might tape features that don’t air.”
“Because we won’t know if we’re voted out until later,” I said, frowning. That seemed a little depressing. To have the camera crew here taping us and having no idea if we were even still in the running.
“Let’s not worry about that too much,” Gina said, leaning across the table a little as she lowered her voice. “I’m supposed to be neutral, but you guys are totally my team. This is the only town I’m producing, so you know I’m going to do my best for you. And we’re going to kill this!”
Everyone at the table—and several of those sitting close enough to hear—applauded at that. Chris pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.
Gina talked a little more about what we should expect when the real shooting started; most of the pub quieted down as no one even pretended to not be listening anymore. My head was spinning with everything there was to plan. We only had a week until they came back for the Fish Fry, and the second feature would be shot a week after that—whether we were still in the game or not.
I looked around the pub at the intent faces, everyone hanging on Gina’s every word.
My sister was a few tables away, Aiden in her lap, Jake next to her. Edward and Zane were nearby with Posey and her mother. I could make out several of the Libbies in the crowd—Iris and Sherry and Margo. Even Millie had snuck away from work to get a glimpse of the crew, though she hovered by the door as if ready to escape the moment she was recognized. They all looked so excited, so eager. This could change our town, change our lives.
They’re counting on you, I thought, my stomach dipping again. You have to be on your game.
When Chris announced that they needed to get back to the mainland to catch their flight, there was an audible murmur of disappointment.
“They probably all thought they’d be TV stars by the end of the day,” Libby muttered to me as we stood to walk our guests back to the ferry.
Once outside, I found myself walking next to Gina.
“Thanks for going through all the info,” I told her. “If you couldn’t tell, the people here are really excited.”
She laughed. “I’m excited too! This is actually my first producing job,” she confessed. “I’ve been an associate producer on Heather’s show for two years now, but this is the first segment they’re letting me run on my own.” She cast a furtive glance at me, as if gauging how disappointed I was in her lack of experience. “I figure it’s actually a pretty good thing for you guys, though,” she said quickly. “Most of the senior producers are covering two or three towns. But I get to devote all my attention to you!”
“That sounds great,” I told her, and I decided right then that I meant it. It was definitely possible, maybe even likely, that a more experienced producer—someone like Chris, for instance—wouldn’t be nearly so excited to come and work in our little town. When I considered how nervous Chris obviously made the entire committee, I figured I would take Gina’s enthusiasm over any amount of experience. “I just hope we’re not too boring for you.”
“Nothing about this place seems boring,” she said. “It’s all so quaint and fun! Oh, that reminds me! I wanted to ask Libby about the wine tasting events,” she said. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead,” I told her, gesturing at my friend, who was currently at the back of the group.
Once Gina was gone, I took a deep breath. It was the first time I hadn’t needed to be totally on since they'd arrived, and I wanted to try to get my thoughts together. Before I had a chance to do much more than breathe, I realized that I had somehow managed to nearly catch up with Chris.
She’s the executive producer of your favorite show, I told myself. And you haven’t talked to her all day. Scary or not, you should try to make a good impression.
I sped up a little until I was at her side.
“I hope you enjoyed your lunch,” I said, and immediately felt stupid. What next, was I going to talk to her about the weather?
“It was good,” she said, her voice brisk but not entirely insincere, and I said a little prayer of thanks to Cora for her amazing burgers.
“Do you get to visit all the towns that are entered?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m nearly finished, though—only two more after you, and both of them are on the coast.”
I realized that I had no idea who else had been chosen as finalists. “Are the entrants pretty spread out?”
She nodded, her eyes on her phone again. “We tried to get a good geographical spread. We’ll be shooting in California, the Pacific Northwest, Texas, North Carolina, and New England.”
I tried not to worry about the fact that she hadn’t mentioned us. “So we’re the Great Lakes contestant,” I said, glad my voice sounded bright. “I know we’ll do the region proud.”
“Mm-hmm,” Chris said vaguely, tapping something on her phone.
And just like that, my nerves went away. Who did she think she was? Hot shot TV producer or not, she had no right to just write us off so easily.
“I’m very confident we’ll do well,” I said. And, okay, maybe my tone was a little sharp. But I didn’t get the reputation of being the most competitive person on this island to take her dismissal lying down.
Her gaze snapped up from her phone and scanned my face, much like it had done down on the dock. Like she was trying to suss out what I had to offer.
“I’m sure you’ll all do your best,” she said, her voice much more gentle than I had heard it all day.
Once again my stomach went plummeting to my knees. “What does that mean?”
“It’s Riley, right?” she asked and I nodded. “Look, this place seems very special. It might be the most unique of the cities that I’ve visited. But it’s also the smallest.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I asked. “Aren’t you looking for the best small town in America?”
“Yes.” Her eyes scanned my face again. “But there is a such thing as too small.”
“I don’t under—”
She talked over me. “Some of those other towns are putting big resources into this, Riley. Resources I’m pretty sure you don’t have. They’re also better situated geographically. They may be small, but they’re nearer to larger metropolitan areas—places with a lot of people who will
vote. We have some really well-known towns on our list. Nantucket, for instance. Do you know how many people on the east coast grew up visiting Nantucket? That gives them a major advantage with voters.”
I frowned. It wasn’t just Lilac Bay that was sparsely populated. Northern Michigan just didn’t have a lot of people in general. Not like the East Coast, anyway. The closest really big city was Detroit, and that was hours away. Who was going to vote for us?
“We’ll just have to show people what they’re missing here,” I said firmly. “I’m sure there will be tons of people watching who don’t have any loyalty to any of the finalists. Those are the ones we’ll try to win over.”
Again her eyes scanned my face. “I’m sure you’ll do your best,” she said again, and I knew I hadn’t won her over at all.
That’s just fine, I thought to myself as we said goodbye to the crew on the dock, Gina hugging each of us before boarding the ferry. Who said I needed to win over Chris Cunningham anyhow? Gina liked us, and she was the one we would be working with. If I could win her over, I could win over the rest of the country, too.
But no matter how much I tried to believe that as I watched the ferry pull out into the bay, the sick feeling in my stomach didn’t go away.
Chapter 9
“Riley, where do you want me to put these lanterns?”
I looked up from my clipboard to see Becky Davis, a senior at the Island School, her arms full of flattened paper lanterns.
“Decorations should all go to Iris and Rose,” I told her, pointing across the square to where Iris and her grandmother were currently hanging twinkle lights from the posts of the gazebo.
“Got it,” Becky said. But she didn’t head off across the square. Instead she stood there in front of me, looking around with a wide smile on her face. “Isn’t this exciting?” she asked. “An actual real live TV show is going to be shot here tonight. On our little island.”
“Uh huh,” I muttered, returning to my list.
Always You: A Lilac Bay Novel (Friends with Benefits) Page 12