by Amberlee Day
“She really doesn’t like me,” Kate said.
“I don’t know. I think you’re growing on her.” The spell broken, Freddie suddenly remembered Vanna behind the desk, and he turned to see her staring at them with offended eyes.
Kate snickered and went back to work, but Freddie’s pulse still raced. He’d almost kissed Kate. Was that a good idea? And the bigger question, would he have a chance to try again?
Silent with his thoughts and afraid to look at her too much lest he tried again right then, he finished the last bit on the wall. “There. That’s it for me. And you know, just doing the two walls in orange looks nice. Maybe leave it this way?”
“Or maybe you just don’t want to have to do the rest,” Kate accused in her chipper tone, but when she looked around the room, she bit her lip. He loved when she did that. “Actually, I think you’re right. The white paint on the other walls might need to be brightened up with a fresh coat, but it does look better this way.”
“See? I’m not just motivated by self-interest.”
“Sure, you’re not.” She didn’t look at him when she said it, and he was pretty sure she was teasing, but her words rang in his head.
Was he really selfish? Probably. His father didn’t think he was self-interested enough. Where was the sweet spot? Freddie wasn’t sure if he could find it on his own. Maybe he needed a good woman to help.
“Anyway, time to clean up and get ready for the meet-and-greet tonight,” he said, helping clean up the mess. “Should be an easy night, just smiling and posing, not much talking.”
“Good. I could use easy after this morning.”
As if adding her opinion, Pumpkin moaned again from the floor. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Freddie’s stomach, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the dog knew something they didn’t.
***
The festival committee had set up the meet-and-greet in the park down by Tortoise Cove, a perfect picture-taking spot with the lake and dock as a backdrop. Kate leaned closer to the woman at her side, both of them smiling as the woman’s husband took their picture. Pumpkin sat on the ground between them.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Mitford.” The woman beamed at Kate. “You are my favorite author.”
“My, aren’t you sweet? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
A noxious odor wafted up—not for the first time that evening—and the woman gave Kate an odd look.
Kate giggled nervously, though her urge was to run away and vomit, the smell was so bad. “Sorry, it’s the dog. I think she must have eaten something that upset her system, though I can’t imagine what.”
Pumpkin let out a long, gaseous toot, and the Love at Home fan made a run for it. Smart move. Kate’s smile slipped, and she tried not to gag.
Freddie jumped ahead of the next person in line, an attractive woman who looked like she was happy to let him cut in and would be happier still to bear his children. Kate promised herself she’d go cross-eyed when the woman asked her to pose for a picture.
“How’s it going?” Freddie asked, but his expression quickly changed.
“Don’t look at me that way,” Kate said quickly. “It’s your dog. Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s lactose intolerant.”
Pumpkin tooted and moaned.
“Oh, man,” Freddie said, putting a finger under his nose as if that would help. “Should I take her away?”
“Please do! Although honestly, every one of these fans is at least as excited to see Pumpkin as they are to see Brenda Lee Mitford. Some of them even brought their own labradoodles, though I think even the dogs have been a little offended by Pumpkin’s digestive issues.”
Toot.
“Maybe if I take her for a walk.”
“Good idea,” Kate agreed. “And maybe don’t let her stop until you’re far away from people?”
“Right.” Freddie took the leash and started off, leaving her a look of encouragement that tickled her insides. “You’re doing great, by the way.”
“Thanks.” She breathed deeply without thinking, quickly putting her own hand to her nose. She’d been trying not to do that.
While Freddie was gone, Kate met several more fans, including the woman at the front of the line, who asked if Freddie was single. Kate was a little ashamed when she answered, “I don’t think so, but you’d have to ask his boyfriend to be sure.” A terrible thing to do, but the words seemed to spill out without her permission.
Funny thing about impersonating Brenda Lee Mitford: people were so enthralled at meeting a celebrity that even the folks Kate knew fairly well didn’t recognize her. It was like she had on an invisibility cloak, and people looking straight at her could only see Brenda Lee. She was thankful it worked, but mystified, too. The "most surreal moment” award went to Mrs. Farmer, the woman Kate babysat for in high school. She approached Kate, smiling and giggling, but didn’t for a second question that she was really talking to Brenda Lee Milford. Very strange.
Kate was feeling confident when she realized she knew the next fan in line a little too well: McGee. In fact, when he walked up to the staged photo op spot—a slender, harvest-themed backdrop printed with the cover for one of Brenda Lee’s Love at Home books—Kate almost said his name aloud.
Maybe Mrs. Farmer didn’t recognize her babysitter from fifteen years ago, but McGee had seen her very recently. She looked around frantically for Freddie. Wasn’t he supposed to keep McGee away until Brenda Lee showed up?
“Hello, Mrs. Mitford,” McGee said, extending a hand. She looked at it, afraid to touch him in case somehow she transmitted her secret to him. “Name’s McGee, lead reporter and morning editor at the Harvest Ranch Times. Not sure he’s mentioned it, but your agent, Prescott, promised me an exclusive interview with you. Though to be honest, I’m starting to worry it’s not going to happen. He does keep putting it off.”
Kate’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. McGee’s eyes narrowed. Oh, no. This was it. He recognized her. She kept trying until she produced sound.
“I’m sure he still intends to keep his word about the interview,” she finally said. She forgot to talk Southern at first, but she managed to get it in toward the end of her sentence.
“I’m sure he does,” McGee said slowly. “You know, Mrs. Mitford, there’s one question I especially want to ask you, something I think everyone in Harvest Ranch would love to know.”
Kate’s throat went dry. He knew. He had to. Her brain scrambled with scenarios. How bad could it be if he published the truth in the Times, that the person everyone in town thought was the visiting celebrity Brenda Lee Mitford was secretly plain old Kate O’Halloran playing dress-up? Disastrous for Freddie. And for the Cornucopia? A headline popped in her head: Innkeeper’s daughter plays hoax, is run out of town. Yes, that would be bad. She could make an appeal. Maybe McGee would work with her. Maybe he’d understand. Or maybe she just needed to redirect him.
“Or you could not ask the question,” she suggested with a sweet-as-sugar accent and a small but pleading smile. Maybe she should quickly offer to go with him to the next barn dance. “Say, McGee ...”
But Freddie suddenly showed up, out of breath, with a smiling, panting Pumpkin in tow. Their walk must have gone well. “Hey there, McGee,” Freddie said with a winded smile. “Worried I’m not going to keep my word about your exclusive?”
McGee’s uncomfortably prolonged squint at Kate dissolved and turned into a smirk toward Freddie. “Maybe. I just thought I’d jump in and introduce myself, maybe take a picture or two.”
Which meant what? Had he recognized her or not?
Freddie motioned to the still-long line of awaiting fans. “This probably isn’t the best time, not with this scheduled meet-and-greet. This is the fans’ time, McGee.”
Kate bobbed her head, approving this reasoning.
“Okay,” McGee said, though she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “I’ll go for now, but how about a definite time for this exclusive? Yeah?”
A feeling kicked Kate in the stomach, a little sick and a little hopeful, too. Could it be that Freddie didn’t think Brenda Lee was coming at all? That would be terrible, both for Freddie and for the Cornucopia. Terrible. But her eyes rested on Freddie’s handsome, square jaw, and the way that his lips tightened when he was thinking. If Brenda Lee didn’t show up, that would mean more time Kate would have to play Brenda Lee, and more time spent with Freddie.
And he looked like he was indeed worried Brenda Lee wouldn’t come at all. Kate jumped in and answered for him. “We’ll have to get back to you on that, but if we’ve promised you an exclusive, that’s what you’ll have. Isn’t that right, Freddie?”
“Yes,” he said, following her lead. He pulled McGee out of the way and motioned for the next people in line to come up. As they walked away, she heard him tell McGee, “We’ve just been very busy. Something I forgot to mention, I’d like to see a list of questions in advance ...”
She couldn’t hear anymore, but Freddie had control over the situation again. All she had to do now was keep smiling and making small talk.
Next in line was a family, a couple not much older than Kate plus two children and their labradoodle. “Well, howdy!” she greeted them. “Look, Pumpkin, it’s another fur friend for you to meet.”
Pumpkin responded with a smile and an extra-loud toot.
Chapter 10
Once again, Freddie paced the length of his cabin. This was becoming a habit. He even knew where to swing wide while passing the coffee table leg so he wouldn’t scuff his shoes.
He’d let this thing go too far, but what choice did he have? Brenda Lee hadn’t gotten back to him this morning—which, if he was more optimistic about all this, he’d say was because she’d found her husband, put him at home with someone to keep him out of trouble, and was on her way to Harvest Ranch. Realistically, it probably had more to do with the tone he’d taken with her that morning. The next worst thing to lying about where his client was would be losing that client’s business altogether.
His phone buzzed on the table. His father was calling. Great. He answered it, since there was no use hiding. “Dad. Hey. How’s it going.”
“I’ve been watching Brenda Lee Mitford’s social media feed,” his dad said without greeting. Since when did Carlton Prescott check social media?
“Okay.”
“The parade, judging something—what was that, a baking contest? Looks like lots of photo ops.”
Freddie shifted his weight to the other foot. So far he wasn’t being chastised, or fired, he was pretty sure. “Yes, all the things on the schedule so far. I don’t think we’ve missed anything.”
“No, you haven’t.” Funny, but with his father’s voice coming over the phone, the undertones of I’m mad and you’d better listen were even more pronounced, no matter what it was he was saying.
“And ...?”
“And if you’re looking for a medal, you’re looking in the wrong place.”
Thanks, Dad.
“This is your career on the line, Freddie. If you want to be a partner someday, you’ll have to keep up this kind of commitment. Can you do that?”
Freddie thought of everything he’d done the last few days in the name of commitment. “I think so, Dad. But thanks for the pep talk.”
“This isn’t a pep talk,” Dad barked. “It’s orders. You’re to keep this up, do everything you can to make sure Brenda Lee Mitford is the toast of this festival. If we do our jobs right, when this next book comes out, it will outsell all the rest and she’ll never even be tempted to move to another agency.”
Freddie froze. “Another agency? What are you talking about?”
“We’ve gotten word that Kravitz Group has been wining and dining Brenda Lee in the past couple of weeks, trying to lure her over.”
Freddie dropped down onto the couch so fast that he startled the dog. She whined her surprise. “Lure over Brenda Lee? You’ve got to be kidding. Are you sure she’s been meeting with them?”
“Norm Sullivan saw them at The Terrace.”
Freddie laughed, briefly relieved. “Yeah, but Norm. He’s been after my spot with Brenda Lee forever. He’s probably just trying to make me look bad.”
“I called the restaurant, Freddie. Talked to Hiddlesby, the owner—we used to play golf a few years back. It’s true, they were there, and that it wasn’t the first time.”
Freddie swore under his breath. As far as he knew, Brenda Lee hadn’t even been in New York for months. What kind of game was she playing?
“Freddie? You understand the importance of holding on to this client, yes? When you’ve lost accounts before, I made allowances for you, even though they cost us dearly. I won’t be doing that again.”
Freddie cringed. Those two accounts he’d lost—over a span of ten years, which was still the best record in the agency—had only transpired because he hadn’t been willing to do anything unethical to keep them. Still, Dad just couldn’t let it die. “Yes, Dad. I understand. And trust me when I say I’m doing everything in my power to keep the Mitford account with the Prescott Agency. I am one hundred percent committed to it.”
“I’m counting on it, son.”
Freddie hung up and immediately tried Brenda Lee again. It went straight to voicemail. “Brenda, we have to talk. Call me as soon as you get this.”
As he ended the call, one thing was very clear. Having the Prescott name wasn’t going to help him if Brenda Lee left for Kravitz. Yes, he’d only lost those two accounts in his career, but he was a Prescott, literary agency royalty. More was expected of him. If he lost this account, he wouldn’t just have to go looking for another agency to hire him—which they would, but he’d have a tarnish on his name and his father out gunning for him. No, if he lost Brenda Lee’s account, his career as a literary agent was essentially over.
***
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Kate wrung her hands, looking out at the library interior from her spot hiding in the “Staff Only” hallway. “A book reading? They’re going to know I’m not really her, Freddie. I can’t just smile and small-talk my way through a book reading.”
“You’ll be fine.” Freddie’s tone was harsh and gave that sinking feeling in her stomach another push. He’d dismissed her, barely seemed to be listening. He’d been like that all morning, gruff and serious. The smiling Freddie from the previous day was gone. It was almost as if he were channeling someone else, someone older and without a sense of humor. She didn’t love this side of Freddie.
Well ... she didn’t love him at all, of course—the thought brought up a nervous giggle that strangled in her throat—but she didn’t appreciate the feeling that he was pushing her through this rather than standing by her side. After all, wasn’t she doing him a favor?
But then maybe this was just another sign of how she picked terrible men to be attracted to. Or maybe they weren’t terrible to begin with, but she just had a knack for spoiling the good ones. The jury was out about which she’d been cursed with.
“And the book signing?” she asked. “Because I can’t sign Brenda Lee’s name, Freddie. That’s forgery.”
“Oh, I forgot. Here. I got you this.” He’d brought two large boxes with him to the library, had even had her drive him the half block to the library to get them there. Unfortunately, they’d had to bring the only car her parents had left at home—the 1972 Ford station wagon, which her grandfather had lovingly kept in pristine condition during his lifetime, and which looked like a green bean with slicked-back hair, if green beans had hair. Katie referred to it as the hearse, and Freddie had acted like he was riding in one on the way over. Now he pulled something from one of the boxes and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked, turning it over.
“Wrist brace. You’ll have to s
ay you strained a muscle and can’t write. I had a box of pre-signed copies I was going to let the local bookstore buy for resell, but we’ll give them away now instead.”
Kate’s heart felt heavy. What had happened to make Freddie suddenly so serious, businesslike? Not even that. He was almost rude. What had she done? No, besides the family curse, she hadn’t done anything. Maybe Freddie was just proving to be another guy who couldn’t be trusted. “I guess it doesn’t matter because Brenda Lee will be here soon and can sign the rest then, right?”
He looked at her for a moment with an expression she couldn’t read, but at the same time she felt like it was sucking the happiness out of her. “Right.”
The librarian approached Kate. Kate recognized her—Alice Westbrook. Fortunately, Alice didn’t recognize Kate. “I think we’re ready to begin if you are, Mrs. Mitford.”
“Please, call her Brenda Lee,” Freddie said with a chilling seriousness that made Kate hug herself.
“Brenda Lee,” Alice said with a sympathetic smile toward Kate. Even she didn’t look like she knew what to think of Freddie. And the way Kate had seen women naturally drawn to him, that was saying something. His current negative attitude was palpable.
Brenda Lee Mitford could really draw a crowd; that was for sure. There must have been a couple hundred patrons crammed into the library. Standing room only wasn’t an exaggeration here. Kate could even see them peeping out from behind bookshelves when there wasn’t room in the aisles. Surely this was against the fire code? She gulped.
And also, if the Love at Home books were that good, maybe Kate should have read more than the first one—which, now that she thought of it, she wasn’t sure she’d finished.
Alice got the crowd’s attention and gave a brief introduction, hitting the highlights of the squeaky-clean author’s life and career. “And now, I’ll turn the time over to our guest, Brenda Lee Mitford.”
The crowd’s applause—people even standing up from their seats—overwhelmed Kate. Not for the first time since this charade had started, she wanted to run. Freddie’s stern expression when she glanced behind her wasn’t comforting, but it did keep her from hitching up her skirt and hightailing it out the back door.