by Amberlee Day
“Positive. We’ll get through the parade, we’ll both get the publicity we need, and then you’ll be off the hook. Can’t go wrong.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned at the name on the screen.
“What is it?” Kate asked.
“Just the conference chair, Gloria Dudley.”
“I know Gloria. Kind of a hippie and a ball of energy all rolled into one, but nice enough.”
Freddie wasn’t interested in the woman’s personality, but when he opened her text, his stomach turned. “Ah ... shoot.”
“What is it?” Kate shuffled closer in her stocking feet to look over his shoulder.
“I’ve been so focused on the parade tomorrow, I forgot about the dinner tonight.”
“Dinner.”
Freddie held up his phone. How could he have forgotten? “There’s supposed to be a dinner before tonight’s parade.”
“So?”
“It’s at that café. They’ve rented it just for tonight, from what I can tell.”
“Okay,” Kate said, shrugging. “The festival bigwigs are just meeting for dinner. No big deal. That doesn’t mean Brenda Lee’s expected to come.”
Freddie blew out a breath. Could this get more complicated? “Oh, she’s expected.”
“Well ... she doesn’t have to go.” Kate smiled like everything was solved, no biggie. But it was a biggie.
“This dinner tonight?” he said, hoping she wouldn’t run the other way even as he formed the words. “It’s in recognition of the grand marshal. Brenda Lee’s the guest of honor.”
***
Kate stalked down the road as fast as she could in Brenda Lee Mitford’s turquoise cowboy boots—which, fortunately, fit her better than the blouse apparently had. She shifted the heavily padded bra as inconspicuously as she could manage at that pace, considering all the early festival goers wandering around the streets before the parade.
She reached up to scratch at her eyes, too, but made herself stop. She’d never worn false lashes before, and they were annoying. In fact, she’d needed Freddie to help her put them on, which was humiliating. “You put these lashes on too tight,” she had complained.
“What do you mean, tight?”
“They feel tight.” Excruciating. If she hadn’t been so uncomfortable, she might have spent more time noticing how he smelled like New York posh. But she hadn’t.
“People are already starting to stare,” she whispered loudly to Freddie, who dragged half a step behind her. Last time she’d looked to see why, it was because Pumpkin had her own pace, and it didn’t match Kate’s. “I hope McGee isn’t coming tonight.”
“I texted Gloria back and told her no press.”
Kate exhaled her relief. “That’s good, anyway. You promise you’ll make sure he gets a photo of the real Brenda Lee at the Cornucopia when she arrives?” No way could they let McGee see them walk away from the Cornucopia on their way to the dinner. She might be able to pull off this charade, but not close up with someone she’d known since preschool.
“Promise.”
Which meant what to Kate? So far, trust was all she had to go on, trusting a too-good-looking New Yorker she’d met yesterday. No wonder she felt wobbly walking down the sidewalk in her own hometown. She tried not to make eye contact with people they passed, even though she knew many of them. That blond guy walking with the two kids was one of the Westbrooks, and that grey-haired woman across the street giving her a scrutinizing eye was Mrs. Lindgren, town gossip. Kate ducked her head and hurried on. “Do you think they recognize me?”
“If you mean do they recognize Brenda Lee Mitford, probably. Would they know who it is under the wig and all that eye makeup? I can’t imagine they would.”
“I’ve never worn this much eye makeup in my life,” she huffed. “I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this. I don’t even know if the Cornucopia will get that much out of it.”
“It will be great. And you look exactly like Brenda Lee, you’re going to fool everyone—Pumpkin, come on!”
Kate didn’t look back to see how the two of them were faring. She wanted to get to the café and get this dinner out of the way. The way her stomach jostled, though, there was no way she’d be able to eat.
When they reached the walkway in front of town hall—just next door to the Blue Shadow Café—she pulled to a fast stop. Unfortunately, Freddie slammed into her. “Hey!” he yelled, practically in her ear. In her peripheral view, she saw him trip and plunge headlong into the city hall lawn. She almost screamed, but he landed with a roll and popped right back up. Pumpkin stepped gingerly around him, as if this were part of an act they’d practiced.
“Nice save,” Kate said, impressed despite her distress.
“Thanks. I played soccer,” Freddie said, brushing grass off his dress shirt and slacks, which he’d insisted on wearing.
“Don’t fuss with it,” she said, shifting her false chest around again. “I told you, everyone else is going to be dressed casually. A grass stain or two will make you more approachable.”
Freddie twisted his arm to see his elbow. “Grass stains?”
Kate rolled her eyes—which was significantly harder to do with the heavy lashes on. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
She began walking in, but Freddie grabbed her arm. “Wait, we forgot about your accent.”
Panic fluttered in her chest. “Accent? What kind of accent?”
“Haven’t you ever heard Brenda Lee talk?”
She shook her head, wanting to strike him with something. “Why would I? She’s an author, not an actress.”
“She’s a celebrity, a brand,” Freddie said in a condescending way that reminded her of her instant dislike for him. “She has a distinct Southern drawl.”
“How Southern? Texas Southern? Tennessee? Louisiana? Even Virginia has some Southern, if you haven’t noticed.”
Freddie shrugged. “There’s a difference?”
“You said distinct.” Frustrated, she clenched her red press-on nails hard into her palms, but she stopped when she thought they might pop off. So many new sensations to get used to. “I assumed that meant you’d know.”
“Okay,” he said, at least appearing to take her seriously. He pulled out his phone, and a moment later he had a video up. There was Brenda Lee Mitford, smiling through her bright lipstick and perfect teeth, talking about how much she loved apple pie and how her book’s main character loved apple pie, too.
“Do I really look like her?” Kate breathed. Brenda Lee was definitely approaching fifty. This wasn’t helping Kate’s stress levels.
“Enough to fool a novice,” Freddie said. “So, what do you call that accent? Texas? Tennessee?”
Kate took a long breath and started walking again. “Southern.”
They walked side by side. The Blue Shadow didn’t have the patio open for this event, so they headed straight for the door. It was still light outside, but the café was even brighter inside. People crowded around, and music spilled out to the sidewalk. Kate stopped just outside the open doorway, and Freddie stopped too. They’d already been spotted, and Gloria Dudley was coming toward them along with several others probably on the committee, their mouths stretched in excited smiles.
Kate thought she might throw up. “What do I talk about?” she asked Freddie through clenched teeth.
“Follow my lead.” He sounded a lot more confident than she felt.
Gloria reached them first and took Kate’s hand in hers. “Brenda Lee Mitford! What an honor. We weren’t even sure you were coming, since no one had seen you in town yet, and even McGee couldn’t pin down where you were staying,” she said, her voice lifting up on the last word.
“Not for lack of trying,” said old Mr. Copely from over Gloria’s shoulder, his deep voice suddenly taking Kate back to middle school history class. Panic fluttered at her throat again. She’d known these people at some point or other her whole life. How could they possibly not recognize her?
Freddie reached around he
r, shaking Mr. Copely’s hand and then Gloria’s. “Freddie Prescott, Brenda Lee’s agent.”
“Ooh, you’re the one I’ve been texting and emailing,” Gloria cooed, as if they’d been on a secret date and she just now realized it was him.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said.
“And where are you staying, Mrs. Mitford?” Gloria asked, her eyebrows folding up like a roll-top desk.
No one spoke, and Kate realized she’d definitely have to start talking. She glanced at Freddie, who looked as relaxed as ... well, as if they weren’t lying to these people.
“Well,” she said, making sure to get that Southern drawl in, “we’re staying at that charming little place just down here on Main Street.”
“You must mean the Westbrook Bed-and-Breakfast,” Gloria guessed, and Kate scowled at her.
“No,” she said, trying to keep her voice sweet, “the most charming place in town. The Cornucopia Inn.”
“Oh!” Gloria and Mr. Copely said together, leaning back and smiling to have discovered where she was staying—but then their eyes met briefly, and she wasn’t wearing quite enough eye makeup to keep from seeing the surprised look they gave each other.
“It’s really very quaint,” Kate added. “I’ve been looking forward to staying there ever since I saw their very professional website.”
“I see,” Gloria said, clasping her hands in front of her and pressing her lips into a smile that Kate wanted to rip off.
“And those cabins,” Kate continued, “have you seen them? Darling! We don’t have anything like that where I’m from, nothing with quite so much personality.”
“Okay,” Freddie said, a tad more forcefully than he might have. He put a hand on her back and practically pushed her inside. She wanted to kick him. In fact, what with spending the afternoon around Freddie and now this, she was experiencing more violent tendencies than she’d had since she was eight and Pruny Filmore’s brother Kirk took to following her around the playground and calling her Goober. “What a lovely place this is. And so many people to meet, Brenda Lee. Let’s go inside.”
“Yes, come in,” Gloria said, smiling as if there hadn’t been awkwardness at the door. “Everyone is dying to meet you.”
Between Gloria pulling her hand and Freddie nudging at her back, Kate reluctantly went inside the lion’s den. No way was she going to be able to pull this off. How had she ever let this smooth-talking New Yorker convince her she could?
***
“Okay!” Kate drawled in her overdone Southern accent that had ripped Freddie’s nerves to shreds in the last torturous hours. She waved at Gloria standing happily in the doorway as they left the café. “Thanks so much for the lovely dinner. We’ll see you tomorrow at the parade!”
Freddie took her arm to lead her away, though he had to stop when Pumpkin got to the grass. She’d been such a good dog inside, he would have forgotten she was at his side if the townspeople hadn’t made a big fuss over her. Kate was still smiling and waving.
“Okay, don’t overdo it,” he murmured to her.
“Overdo Brenda Lee Mitford, in this getup and the Southern accent? I don’t think that’s possible, sugar.”
“Sugar?” At least she came with him when he led her down the street. “You were supposed to just be there for appearances, remember? Talk as little as possible.”
“You didn’t say that,” she said in an accusing voice that finally dropped the accent. “You said Southern.”
“When you had to talk, yes! Not nonstop.”
“I didn’t talk nonstop.”
“When the real Brenda Lee gets here, how are we going to convince them that the two of you are the same person? All you had to do is lie low, be a place filler. Now we might really have a problem.”
“Hey, you said to play the part of Brenda Lee, and that’s what I did. It isn’t my fault you had to throw in a dinner party—which, I might add, I did a great job at, even though I had to sit up front on the podium at that big table where everyone could stare at me.”
“And here’s something,” he said, though he knew before the words came out that he shouldn’t say it. “If you’re going to be Brenda Lee, you need to stop fussing with your ...”
He moved his forearms up and down beneath his chest as if he were moving something there. Kate glared at him, and it was still light enough out to see her blush—or was that an angry flush?
“You try wearing extra weight up front that you’re not used to. It’s not exactly a picnic going on in here,” she said, pointing to her chest.
He looked around to make sure no one was looking, but there were actually several people watching. He smiled at them and took her arm again. “Nothing we can do about it now. Let’s get you home. We’ll have to be up early so you can put this getup on all over again for the parade. Once you’re on that float, you can smile and wave and not talk, and we can get this night over with.”
“I’m all for that.” She stopped and spun around. “But we’re going the wrong way. You can see the Cornucopia sign from here. See? It’s not exactly rocket science.”
“Whatever.” Everything looked the same here, and he couldn’t for the life of him account for the Swiss architecture. Why? They were in Virginia, not Europe. All he knew was that Brenda Lee had better be on the first flight to Virginia tomorrow so she didn’t miss more than the parade. “It’ll all get worked out tomorrow.”
“Are you talking to me or yourself?” Kate asked, but he only shrugged. Getting Brenda here as soon as possible was his only hope if he was wanted to salvage this thing. This Kate the Cornucopia manager was going to blow the whole thing if this lasted much longer.
***
“Uh, what are you doing?”
Kate spun around on the number eight front porch, the cabin key in one hand and Brenda Lee’s wig in the other. Besides the wig, Kate still wore the whole costume, and Dora stood on the pathway while giving her a crooked look. “Nothing.” Worth a try. Freddie had taken Pumpkin for a constitutional walk behind the cabins and was nowhere to be seen. She shouldn’t have taken off the wig before she got all the way inside, but it itched.
“Is this like some kind of early Halloween costume?” Dora asked. “Because you look ridiculous.”
Guests were emerging from the lobby. Kate panicked, worrying that more people would see her, and motioned for Dora to come in the cabin.
“Holy smokes,” Dora said, taking in the room. Kate and Freddie had left it quite a mess in their rush to get ready for the committee dinner. Costumes, wigs, and that infernal makeup case took up all the flat surfaces. “What have you been up to?”
Kate placed the wig on its stand and looked in the mirror. Could you sleep in false eyelashes? Could she sleep in them, if she tried? “Dora, can you keep a secret?” She suddenly remembered that when Dora had eloped at eighteen, she hadn’t told anyone for two months. “Never mind, of course you can. Here’s the thing.”
She spilled it all, about her parents thinking of selling the inn, which Dora hadn’t known; about Freddie and Brenda Lee; and about the hope that fixing up the inn and the publicity of a celebrity staying there might be enough to get them to change their minds. While she was at it, Kate accidentally told the rest, about Steven taking her into his office at the Scranton Hilton the night before she was to leave for Harvest Ranch, both firing her and breaking up with her.
“But you were engaged!” Dora said. Her indignation was just what Kate needed to hear, though it wasn’t wholly true.
“Not actually engaged,” she said lightly, “but close.” They’d been on twenty-two dates, which was a record for her.
“And you were a manager there ... can he do that? Can he fire you?” Her face screwed up. “Wait a minute. You weren’t the manager, were you?”
“No,” Kate admitted, hanging up Brenda Lee’s skirt. “I was the assistant manager...’s assistant.”
“Assistant manager’s assistant?”
Kate nodded.
“Still, that w
as pretty good! That Steven’s an insect to do that to you.”
“But do you see why I agreed to do this Brenda Lee thing? I feel like I’ve lost so much ... not just Steven and the Hilton, but other places and relationships.”
Dora shook her head. “You’re right. You lose pretty much every job you’ve ever had. There was the dental assistant job, that preschool gig, the time you tried to be a realtor, flight attendant school ...”
Kate nodded again. “Okay.”
“... the job as a hostess in the pancake house.”
“It was an Italian restaurant, and I got to actually use my Italian, but you’ve made your point.”
“And the men! Remember Kyle, Rick, Christopher ...”
“You’ve made your point.”
“No, my point is that it’s not your fault.” Dora put an arm around Kate’s shoulders, and they looked at their reflections in the mirror. “It’s the family curse, that’s all.”
Kate watched her lip drop and could almost hear her mother’s words: Bird’s going to poop on that lip. She sucked it back in and bit it. “The family curse? Do you really think so?”
“Of course it is! Not your fault at all. Some things are just going to fail, especially when it comes to women in our family and relationships. But hey, I think it’s great you’re trying to do something to make the inn better.”
“Yeah?” Maybe this plan wasn’t so dumb after all.
“Sure. Tomorrow morning you put that wig back on, go to that parade, and don’t worry if it’s humiliating. It’s okay. That’s the human spirit trying to rise up and do better than what you were given.”
Kate’s lips curled. Yes, it was humiliating, but she really didn’t have anything to lose. “I’ll do it, but really, Dora, you need to work on your motivational speech.”
They both nodded into the mirror.
Chapter 7
“The parade route begins at the high school,” Kate needlessly reminded Freddie as they headed out from the hotel the next morning, and he took her arm and nodded. He just wanted to get this over with before it imploded. True, she was fidgeting with her costume less than she had last night, but that was the only improvement in her performance. They’d run into some Love at Home fans in the lobby, and she’d attempted that awful accent with them again. Luckily, they’d been more interested in Pumpkin than in talking to Brenda Lee.