Maple Sugar Crush

by Beth Labonte

  “Oh, please,” I cut in. “You don’t have to pretend that this is anything more than it is, Riley Parker. It’s not like I’m not used to it. Men have been after my money for years now. You’re not special.”

  I took off in the direction of the parking lot, when I realized I was still carrying my golf club and ball. I turned around, walked back to Riley, and shoved both of them into his chest.

  “Make sure these get back to Roy,” I said. I turned and started to head off again, before stopping one more time and calling over my shoulder, “And tell him I said thank you. That was very kind of him.”

  Then I was off, like a whirlwind, for real.

  Chapter 11

  I stopped my car in front of the mailbox and pulled out a pile of envelopes addressed to Kit Parker and The Autumnboro Inn. Tossing them onto the passenger seat, I continued up the driveway. I’d been thrilled when Kit and Amy asked if I would stop by the inn to bring in the mail and water the plants while they were away. It was the most involvement I’d had with the inn so far, and I’d almost brought over some Joan Rivers Christmas ornaments for the tree, but decided against it. I was a silent partner, and I needed to accept that. When it came down to it, Kit—much like his conniving younger brother—had only been interested in my money. Surprise, surprise.

  The sky was much brighter today than it had been over the weekend—the threat of snow gone, at least for now—though my mood was anything but sunny. I’d avoided running into Riley yesterday (didn’t leave the house), but today was Monday and I’d needed to open the store. I figured that as long as I stayed away from the funeral home and The Shaky Maple, everything would be okay. I couldn’t imagine Riley barging into Pumpkin Everything to try to continue our discussion. I thought I’d made it pretty clear that I wasn’t giving him a nickel for his trip.

  The funny thing is, if he’d just stayed his normal, moody self, and asked me for the money out of the blue, I would have given it to him in a heartbeat. But he’d been toying with my emotions. Playing me. Buttering me up like a naïve piece of toast. Sure, he probably didn’t know that I had a major crush on him—and if he did, please shoot me now—but did that even matter? That wasn’t the way you treated people. The fact that he’d done it before to Catrina Corman, to get a better deal on a headstone, was a red flag I totally should’ve seen. Live and learn…again.

  I let Pixie out of the car and headed for the front porch, fishing the key out of my purse as I walked.

  “Pixie! Stop!” I cried, looking up in time to see her lift her leg and urinate on the antique garden statue Kit and Amy had brought back from Vermont. I used to think that only boy dogs did that sort of thing, but nope. “Aw, man.”

  I left the mail on the reception desk inside, then went back out to hose off the statue and water the plants. I was just getting ready to lock up, when my cell phone rang.

  “Meg!” I said, answering the call. I was always happy to hear from my sister. “What’s up?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Tell you what?” I asked, turning the bolt on the front door and heading back to my car.

  “About the big dinner! Mom said you were hosting some tiny thing for homeless people and senior citizens. Then I saw the ad in the newspaper all the way over here! Why didn’t you tell us it was such a big event?”

  “Woah, woah, woah. How did you see the ad?” The Portsmouth Herald circulated down by the Maine border, but Meg was in Kennebunkport, which was way up the coast.

  “A customer left a copy at the café this morning and I happened to flip it open. When I saw the name ‘Autumnboro’ I knew it had to be you!”

  I groaned as I let Pixie into the car. “That was a mistake, Meg. That ad was supposed to run in the local newspaper. Now it’s apparently spreading all over two states.”

  “Wow, that stinks,” said Meg, an espresso machine grinding away loudly in the background. “Can I do anything to help? I could come down for a few days, leave Dave in charge of the café and the kids…”

  “That’s sweet, but not necessary. I don’t want you dropping everything for me.” If Meg came, then my dad would surely follow, along with the rest of them.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Totally.”

  “You could call off the whole thing, you know? Come down to the Cape, like normal? The girls are pretty bummed that you won’t be there.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “There was a reason I’d planned this dinner in the first place, Meg, and that hasn’t changed. If anybody has the means to handle this sort of thing, it’s me, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said, her voice filled with uncertainty. “Just, be careful, okay? You don’t want to run into another Dean or anything. Jerks like that are everywhere.”

  “Dean wasn’t a jerk in the beginning,” I said, inexplicably defending my ex as I backed down the driveway. “The money just got to him. It, like, ate his soul.” Riley on the other hand…Riley was a jerk from the beginning.

  “I guess so,” said Meg, not sounding convinced.

  “That’s why I’m never letting a relationship go that far again,” I said, pulling out onto Poplar Street. “But thank you so much for bringing up his name.”

  “I’m sorry! Look, I’m sure everything will work out fine. One good deed at a time, right? And this good deed should count for, like, ten regular ones.” There was the sound of a door slamming in the background, followed by a small crowd cheering. “Oh, Josie, I have to go. Open mic night starts in ten minutes and the Amazon Prime guy just got here with the mic. That was a close call! Love you!”

  “Love you, too. Bye, Meg.”

  I shook my head as I hung up the phone. And Moose though I was the loopy one.

  Two more days had gone by, and I’d still managed to avoid running into Riley. I was sitting in my living room on Wednesday night, watching Supernatural, when the doorbell rang. Pixie started barking like crazy as my phone buzzed an alert from the camera by the front door. I looked at my phone, half-expecting to find Riley out there (and hating myself for the feelings that thought had stirred up). Instead, there was a mob of people.

  But not just any mob.

  It was my family. Mom, Dad, Granny, my cousin Audrey and her husband Randy, Uncle Burt and Aunt Carla; they were all standing outside on my front porch. I hadn’t pushed the speaker button, but it looked to me like they were arguing. Meg was noticeably absent from the mob, and I knew right then that she must’ve called my parents and told them all about my dinner. I should have known from the tone of her voice how worried she’d actually been. So, she’d told them and then…what? They’d all come up here to help? How could that group of people out there possibly make this situation better?

  The doorbell rang again. Oh, dear. It was probably too late to turn off all the lights and pretend I wasn’t home, and I couldn’t just leave them out there. Never mind that Pixie would bark herself to death if I didn’t do something soon. I walked over, opened the door a crack, and peeked outside. At the sound of the door opening, all of the talking and arguing ceased, and all seven heads turned my way.

  “Hi,” I said, only my eyeball visible through the crack in the door.

  “Josie!” said Mom, pushing the door the rest of the way open and bumping me in the forehead. “Thank goodness! For a minute I thought we might have to get a room at some horrid motel!” She pushed past me into the house, dropping a large Louis Vuitton duffle bag onto the floor.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” said Dad, stepping up and giving me a hug. “Sorry to surprise you like this, but Meg said you’d tell us not to come if we called ahead! As soon as I’d heard about the pickle you’d gotten yourself into, I knew we had to come up and help. I hope that’s okay?”

  He looked concerned, but at the same time, so happy at the idea of being able to help. He looked so opposite the bored man I’d seen walking up and down the beach with his metal detector these past few years, that I couldn’t possibly say no. Not to him.

  “Of cou
rse, it’s okay,” I said, hugging him back. “But Thanksgiving isn’t for a week and a half!”

  “I know,” he said. “But we missed you! And it’s not like we had anything better to do back home...”

  “Fair enough. But why are they here?” I motioned to Uncle Burt and Aunt Carla who were still standing on the porch. Uncle Burt was holding his phone sideways, snapping photos of my house.

  “Since we’re staying through Thanksgiving, we had to invite them along. Couldn’t let family be alone for the holiday, right?” He nudged me with his elbow. “Don’t worry, they’ve all agreed to pitch in. You know how the saying goes: you can never have too many cooks in the kitchen!”

  “That’s not how the saying—”

  “Holy schnikes!”

  We both turned to look at Uncle Burt.

  “Have you seen the Zestimate on this place?” He turned his phone to Aunt Carla, whose eyes bugged out of her head.

  “Are you looking up my house on Zillow?”

  “It’s public information!” he said, pushing past us into the house. Audrey and Randy grunted their hellos, trailing behind.

  “Hello, Granny,” I said, turning my attention to my poor grandmother, who was still waiting patiently to be let into the house. I bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm!”

  “This hotel is enormous!” she said, her eyes wide as she entered the house.

  Hotel. Granny’s words gave me the tiniest inkling of an idea. No. I couldn’t. Could I?

  “Book that spaceship to Mars yet?” called Uncle Burt, letting out a loud guffaw from somewhere inside.

  Well, maybe…

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” said Mom, stepping back outside onto the porch. She leaned over the railing and yelled, “Boys! She’s home! You can come on up now!”

  “Boys?” I gaped at her. She didn’t.

  A car door slammed and suddenly Quinn and Dylan—two of the floppy-haired dudes from last Thanksgiving—were tromping up my front steps. She did. They were both wearing headphones and carrying backpacks and duffle bags.

  “What’s up?” they said in unison, filing past me into the house and dropping their things all over the floor.

  “Anybody else out there?” I asked. “Rita Winchester’s son?”

  “Oh, now you’re interested,” Mom groaned. “Well, it’s too late, Josephine. We’ve already lost him. That Sophie Kilroy snatched him right up the day after we spoke on the phone. They ran into each other at The Christmas Tree Shops, of all places. What was he even doing there? A plastic surgeon! Anyway, I offered these two a free stay up in the mountains and they jumped at the chance. Dylan hasn’t stopped talking about you since last Thanksgiving. They’re both still single, if you can believe it! Brady’s off the market, unfortunately. Although, between you and me”—she leaned in close, as if sharing a secret—"those hands aren’t as gentle as they used to be.”

  “I can’t believe you invited them here without even asking!” I whispered, pulling her out onto the front porch and closing the door behind us. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to fix me up?”

  “It’s not like that at all,” said Mom. “I just happened to be talking to them—”

  “To your golf teacher and your pool boy? In November?”

  Mom ignored me. “And they each said that they had no plans for Thanksgiving. Dylan’s family went on a cruise, but he gets terribly seasick and had to stay behind, poor thing. And Quinn, his parents do not get along, so they don’t even attempt to get the family together anymore.”

  “Oh. Well, that is sort of sad…”

  “Isn’t that what this dinner of yours is all about?” she asked. “Providing for people with no other place to go.”

  “Well, yes…”

  “And sure, the fact that you didn’t give either of them a chance last year didn’t completely slip past me. Just keep an open mind! You’ll have plenty of time to get to know them while they’re here, and if something should happen…”

  “I knew it,” I said, pointing my finger at my mother and shaking my head. I turned and walked back inside with Mom hot on my heels.

  “I thought it might be fun to do a Bachelorette sort of a thing,” she said. “Do you know if they sell roses at that mini mart? It looked a little lowbrow, but maybe—”

  “I’m already seeing someone!” I blurted out, as soon as I’d closed the door behind us. The words were out of my mouth before I could even think.

  Everyone in the kitchen turned to look at me. Audrey and Randy, who’d already pulled a platter of cheese and crackers out of the fridge, stopped mid-bite to stare at me.

  “What?” said Mom.

  “I’m…I’m already seeing someone,” I repeated. Then I held my chin up high and took a deep breath. “I have a boyfriend.”

  “You have a boyfriend?” asked Audrey, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Did you confiscate his passport yet?” Randy snort-laughed.

  “No,” I said, giving her a dirty look. “It’s not like that this time. This man would never hurt me. He’d never use me for my money, and he’d never let the money come between us. I totally and completely trust him.”

  I practically choked on the words as an image came to mind of the only person in town who could play the part. Even if he was the opposite of everything I’d just blathered on about. What had I done?

  Mom’s eyes lit up. “Well, why didn’t you tell us this before, Josie? You didn’t mention a word of this on the phone! What’s his name?” Her face fell for a split second. “It’s not Tom, is it?”

  “No. His name is…Riley. Riley Parker. And I think—” I paused to swallow down a small geyser of stomach acid. “I think he’s the one.”

  Chapter 12

  I sped past the Welcome to Summerboro sign and in the direction of Riley’s apartment. I’d ordered pizza for my family and the floppy-haired duo, and told them that I just remembered I had to check on something back at the store. I hadn’t even thought to call or text Riley ahead—not that I’d have known what to say—so there I was, winging it and praying he was home. Where would Riley even go at night? He had a few friends from high school that he hung around with occasionally, but it was a Wednesday night. He could always be out at some sort of Pokémon Go evening event, since he was so in love with that game. Wouldn’t that just be the kicker. No, he had to be home; I needed him.

  As I drove, I made a mental list of any other guys I knew that might have fake boyfriend potential. There weren’t many. Lee was too young. Moose was too old (and hated me). There was Mike, from The Autumnboro House of Pizza, and Nick and Tony, who were baristas at The Shaky Maple. The thing was, I couldn’t ask this favor of just anybody. Who knew what they’d expect in return? At least with Riley, I knew exactly what he wanted, and it was innocent enough. Even if it had nearly broken my heart.

  I turned onto Beach Street and parked in front of his building—a large, white Victorian that had been split into several apartments, not too different from the home he’d grown up in—and saw his black Honda Civic parked in the small lot. Thank goodness. I’d given Riley a ride home once, last summer, so I knew where he lived, but not which apartment. I knocked on the first door that I came to, which was not Riley’s, but the kind man in his bathrobe directed me upstairs to unit four. I pounded on the door until I heard footsteps, and the bolt flipping.

  “Moneybags,” said Riley, pulling open the door. He glanced past me, to see if I was alone, and then back at my face. “What are you doing here?”

  It was only seven o’clock, but he seemed to already be in his pajamas, which consisted of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt that said, All My Friends Are Pokémon. Without answering, I pushed past him into his apartment, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach as we briefly made contact. Apparently, they hadn’t gotten the memo.

  I stopped in the middle of the living room. An episode of The Umbrella Academy was paused on the television, with a bag of Flavor Bl
asted Goldfish and a bottle of Sam’s OctoberFest on the coffee table. On the wall behind the couch was a gorgeous canvas print of the Tokyo skyline at night. I stared at it, mesmerized, for a few seconds, before turning around to face him.

  “I want to make a deal,” I said.

  “A deal?” He’d closed the door, but was still standing right in front of it with one hand on the doorknob. My presence seemed to have completely thrown off his comfortable evening. Now he knew how I’d felt.

  “I’m still mad at you for buttering me up,” I said pointedly. “And I will probably never forgive you for that. But right now, I need your help.”

  Still keeping his eyes on my face, Riley walked past me into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the small table. We sat down across from each other, and I felt for a moment what it was like to be one of his clients. How on Earth could they concentrate on such morbid subject matter with those eyes on them? Riley’s eyes were made for planning weddings, not funerals.

  Focus, Josie.

  I cleared my throat. “I need you to be my fake boyfriend for the next week and a half.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Excuse me?”

  I removed my hand from where it had been partially covering my mouth, and said it again, louder. “I need you to be my fake boyfriend for the next week and a half.”

  “Your what?”

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. Had he never read a romance novel?

  “My whole family showed up tonight because my sister went and blabbed about my Thanksgiving dinner,” I explained. “Now my dad’s all worried about me and he wants to help, which is fine, but he brought along my aunt, uncle, and cousins, which is less fine. On top of that, my mom brought along these two guys who want to marry me for my money, and she thinks I’m going to, like, choose one by Black Friday.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. And then, I went and blurted out in front of everybody that I was already dating someone, and that it was pretty serious.”