Always You: A Lilac Bay Novel (Friends with Benefits) (13 page)

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 said. “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.

“
R
iley
, 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.

“I’ve been so nervous all week,” she continued, apparently oblivious to the overwhelming length of the to-do list in my hands. “I mean, what if I actually get on camera? What would I even say? How would I act?”

I glanced up at her sharply. “You’ll act the same way you do every day, Becky. We’re having the Fish Fry here tonight, the same event that we’ve had in this square every spring since you were born.”

“I know, but this is different.”

“No, it’s not. The camera crew wants to see us acting normally. The whole point of this feature is to see us in our natural environment, to get to know our town. They’ll see right through us if we’re fake or putting on a show.”

Her face clouded a little bit. “So maybe I should skip my hair appointment?”

“Your hair appointment?”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Sherry is running a special this afternoon for any of the girls who want to get their hair done for the cameras.”

I closed my eyes briefly. Sherry may have been styling hair on this island for decades, but in that time she had only mastered two styles—the bad perm she herself sported, and the highly teased 80’s flashback updos that still passed for high fashion around here during prom season. I could just see it now—half the island’s teenagers walking around the square looking like extras from Footloose.

“Definitely skip your hair appointment,” I told Becky. “And please pass that along to your friends.”

“Got it,” she said. “I’ll just go give these lanterns to Iris.”

Just as I was about to write
Deal with Sherry
on my list, I saw Libby heading across the green. I waved her over.

“You look stressed,” she said by way of greeting.

“Not so much stressed as filled with a desire to kill Sherry.” I explained what Becky had told me while she clearly tried not to laugh.

“Want me to deal with her?”

“Can you? Because that would be great.”

Libby peered over my shoulder at my list. “Looks like you have a lot left to do.”

“I swear to God, the list is growing.”

“Are you delegating?”

“Of course.” I pointed around the square. “Posey and Rose are in charge of decorations. David and Eddie are getting the tables set up. Cora is on drinks.”

“Then why is your list so long?” This time she grabbed the clipboard from me and began reading. “Make sure boys stagger food tables. Show Rose how to hang gazebo streamers.” She looked up at me, her expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You’re only pretending to delegate!”

“I’m not—”

“This is micro-managing, Riley.”

“I just want everything to go smoothly.”

“Of course you do,” she said. “But you need to remember that they chose our town for a reason and that reason had nothing to do with being perfect.”

“I don’t think we need to be
perfect
—”

“Riley. You’re a perfectionist. You’ve always been a perfectionist. There’s nothing wrong with that. But that’s not Lilac Bay. We’re quirky and we’re messy and we’re fun. And yes, sometimes our residents may seem a little nutty—” Her eyes wandered over to where Jerry was setting up the fence for the petting zoo. Despite my strong hints that kids would be more interested in interacting with larger animals—specifically ones who didn’t posses such sharp beaks—Jerry had brought at least a dozen of his chickens along with the more appealing goat and pig. Libby shook her head before continuing in a determined voice. “But that’s part of our charm.”

My eyes were still on Jerry, who had abandoned the portable fence to introduce a passing Zane to the chickens. “Oh, yeah. Charming.”

“Hey,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I mean it, Riley. If you try to make these people into something they’re not, it won’t turn out well.”

She was basically repeating my line to Becky. But then again, she hadn’t heard Chris that day, basically saying that we had no shot at this. I hadn’t shared that conversation with anyone—I couldn’t bear the thought of them all being so disappointed. Instead I'd doubled down on my efforts for the event, determined to prove her wrong.

“I know. You’re right. I’ll try to let go a little bit.”

“Good.”

“But,” I said, feeling a flash of worry, “we should still get Sherry to stop with the up-dos, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. The last thing we need is half the town walking around with Sherry hair.”

After she left I directed my attention to the various groups of people working around the square. Several members of the Elks club were assembling the sound system where the band would set up later. Senior class officers and student council members from the Island School were carting boxes and supplies around the green, and judging by their still-normal-looking hair, none of them had visited Sherry yet—thank God for small favors. Most of the Libbies were here helping Posey and Rose with decorations—though several of them had abandoned any pretense of work to participate in their favorite pastime: staring at David Jenkins while he lifted heavy things. Even the island’s Girl Scout troop was here, setting up their lemonade table. And the square was already starting to come together.

It’s all going to be fine
, I told myself.
No one cares about this island more than the people who live here. You don’t have to micromanage
.

A familiar voice across the square caught my attention, and I turned to see Mason and Jayden helping Jake to hang bunting from one of the tables. I grinned, happy to have them there. I was about to step over to say hello when someone stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

I knew who it was at once—the man from the bar, that pitcher from the Big Hotel team. I hadn’t thought of him in weeks, what with all the excitement, but it was impossible to mix him up with any of the islanders.

Guys around here just didn’t look like that—designer jeans, expensive haircut, hands that looked suspiciously manicured. And the way that he was smiling at me was familiar—he’d looked at me that same way from the pitcher’s mound.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re Riley, right?”

“Yeah.” I brushed my hair off my forehead. I had planned to go home to get cleaned up after the square was set up and now I wished I hadn’t waited. I felt distinctly grubby compared to this shiny-haired, Calvin-Klein-model-wannabe.

“We haven’t really met yet, but we played against each other a few weeks ago.” He held out his hand. “I’m Chase.”

The name rang a bell, but I was too distracted by his smile when I took his hand to give it much thought. It was warm and smooth and surprisingly strong.

“Hi,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as breathy as it felt. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come say hi for a while,” he said, his smile far more smug than his words were. Something about it reminded me a little bit of Andrew.
He’s a player
, I told myself.

“Why did you need to work up courage?” I smiled back and his own grin deepened. Maybe I didn’t look quite as grubby as I thought.

“It always takes some courage to talk to a pretty girl.”

I should have rolled my eyes, should have walked right away from this flirty, smug-smiled boy, but somehow I didn’t.

Maybe it was the fact that he was still holding my hand. I pulled it away abruptly.
You have work to do here tonight
, I reminded myself. Important work.

“You seem pretty sweet—and way too conscious of that fact,” I told him. “But this is a pretty big night, and I have work to do.”

“Well, that’s the other reason I came over,” he said. “I want to help.”

“You want to help hang crepe paper streamers in Town Square?” I asked, eyebrows raised. “Instead of going back home at the end of the day?”

“I’m actually staying on the island,” he said. His eyes flashed a little and I got the feeling he was trying not to laugh. “I know that doesn’t really fit in with your preconceived ideas of the outsiders up at the hotel, but there it is.”

“You’re staying here?” I asked, the skepticism strong in my voice. None of the Big Hotel workers stayed on this island when their shifts were done. Why would they? They had things like nightclubs and actual shopping malls on the mainland. And, you know, cars.

“I am. It seemed silly to commute across the bay every day,” he said. He watched me for a minute and then laughed. “You can lower your eyebrow any minute. I’m telling the truth.”

“Sorry,” I said, intentionally raising the eyebrow in question a bit more. “I’ve just never met anyone who actually wanted to live here while working at the hotel for the summer.”

“Who said I’m just there for the summer?” There was something about the way this guy looked at me that had my cheeks heating up. Something about the intense way his eyes were staring into mine, unblinking and warm and full of amusement.

“You want to move here? To Lilac Bay?”

“You’re not doing a very good job being an ambassador for the island,” he pointed out, laughing. “I thought that was supposed to be your thing. Aren’t you the head of the welcome committee for that show?”

Oh. That was where I’d heard his name. The Hillmans had nominated him to be their representative on the island. And now he was chatting me up with those sparkling eyes and that flirty grin. Some coincidence.

“It was nice to meet you,” I said, taking a step backwards. “But I have work to do.”

“Like I said, I want to help.”

“You want to help your boss,” I shot back. “That’s what this is, right? You’re trying to make nice because they want an in with the producer.”

His face clouded. “No. That’s ridiculous.”

“I know they nominated you to be on the committee,” I shot back. “And that they were pissed when they got shot down. So why don’t you go tell them that Jenny will be sure they get their fifteen minutes of fame, okay? No need to send their top employee to flirt with the mayor’s assistant.”

He held up a hand. “Okay, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh,” I muttered, turning away. “I have to go.”

He called after me but I merely waved over my shoulder as I went to check in on the food tables.

Andrew was standing at the first one, watching me approach.

“Hey,” I began, but he cut me off.

“Who is that guy?”

“Chase something or other,” I said. “He works for the Big Hotel.”

“That’s the guy the Hillmans were trying to get on your committee?” he asked, glaring over my shoulder.

“Yup. And it would appear they don’t give up easily. They sent him to come chat me up, trying to get on my good side.”

“Was he hitting on you?”

I nodded. “Yeah, and doing a pretty good job of it. He could give you a run for your money in the whole smoldering-smirk thing you've got going on.”

Andrew snorted. “Like you would fall for that.”

There was something in his tone I didn’t like. “And what does that mean?”

“Come on, Riley,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away from where Chase stood to look down at me. “A guy like that, flirting with you?”

The thing about being friends with someone for as long as Andrew and I have been friends is that very little is off limits. Especially when that friendship spanned puberty, first kisses, and every subsequent attempt at relationships. Over the years, Andrew and I had developed a very comfortable, teasing kind of friendship—particularly when it came to our interactions with the opposite sex. I ragged him about his man-whoring, and he ragged me about being too busy playing sports and worrying about my sister to bother with dating. I never took anything he said about my love life seriously.

So why did it feel like he had just slapped me?

“You’re an asshole, Andrew.”

His eyes widened. “What did I do?”

“You know, that guy actually flirted with me way before we even found out that we got on the show. So it’s not completely unheard-of, you know. That a cute guy might be interested in me.”

To his credit, Andrew looked aghast. “I didn’t mean that!”

“Yeah. Sure you didn’t. Just like you didn’t mean the shit you said that night at Cora’s when the girls were trying to fix me up.” I didn’t know why I was getting into all of this right now. Or why I was letting his words bother me so much in the first place. It wasn't like he hadn’t made similar jokes before. And I joked right back. But for some reason, right now, with so much riding on the night, the idea of my best friend doubting my abilities—even when it came to dating—made me feel like crying.

“Riley.” He reached out and grasped my arms, right under the elbow. “I didn’t mean it like that at all. I promise you. Hey.” He pulled my arms gently until I looked up at him. “I didn’t. I know that’s the guy from the game and I know that he was flirting with you then.”

“You do?”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean, come on. Anyone who was watching could see the way you guys were checking each other out.” His eyes narrowed a little. “Obviously he was into you. All I’m saying is that you’re way too smart to be swayed by some off-island pretty boy.”

I took a deep breath and pulled my arms away. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what my deal is tonight.”

“You’re obviously under a lot of pressure.” His gaze remained fixed on my face. “Something happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not just nervous, you’re upset. I can tell. You’ve been off all week. Why?”

“We don’t have a shot at this,” I blurted out. “Its hopeless. They just picked us to improve their geographic representation.”