Smitten (44 page)
Shelby pocketed her phone. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Reese emerged from her self-pity long enough to look around. Flurries fell, coating the village with a fresh white blanket. Lights twinkled from shop windows, glowing softly on the snow.
“It is beautiful.” The village was silent, except for the snow crunching under their feet. Smitten was so empty. Hardly a body in sight, and it was nearing the weekend. Where were the lovers? Shouldn’t things be picking up at least a little? A thread of worry inched through her.
Her eyes fell on the wreath gracing Sweet Surrender’s entrance, and guilt pricked at the door of her heart. She should have more faith. Why was it so hard to just believe?
If only real faith were as easy as hanging a wreath. Hadn’t she hung hers? And yet the doubt remained. She woke in the middle of the night sometimes, fear clawing at her throat.
What if it didn’t work? What if she lost everything she’d saved? What if, despite all their efforts, the town died, and a year from now Smitten was nothing but a ghost town? What if she lost not only her shop but Griffen too? The ticking clock grew louder each day. At such times, what could she do but pray? It was out of her hands now. She couldn’t make tourists come, and she couldn’t make Griffen love her.
Give me faith, Jesus. Help my unbelief
.
When they reached the coffee shop, Reese held the door for Shelby. They entered the warm, cozy shop and shucked their winter gear in the corner. Julia and Natalie greeted them as they sank into the cushy leather.
She hated to be a wet blanket, but that’s how she felt tonight. Not even the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies lifted her spirits. She reached for the cup of comfort Natalie set at her fingertips. “Thanks, Nat.”
Natalie took one look at her face, and her brown eyes softened. “You look tired. Are you okay?” She looked at Shelby for a clue, but Shelby just lifted her delicate shoulders.
Reese hated to admit her lack of faith, even to her best friends. Why pull them down? Instead she focused on her other worry. On the love of her life who would slip out of town, out of her grip, in a matter of days.
“It’s Griffen.”
“Things not going well?” Natalie asked.
Reese shook her head.
“I thought for sure after that day when we sat in here with Sawyer, he was coming around. I mean, for crying out loud, he ate chocolate off your lips.”
Julia’s brows jumped. “What?”
“Do tell,” Shelby said.
“It was . . .” Natalie fanned her face. “Wow.”
A gurgle escaped Reese’s throat. “And yet, when we’re alone, nothing. It was all for show. Turns out Griffen is quite the actor. The love of my life is helping me get another man’s attention, and he seems to be more than happy to do so.”
Reese dropped her head into her hands. What had she been thinking? This was torture. What was more hurtful than the man you loved handing you on a platter to another man?
She felt someone smoothing her hair. Shelby probably. She should warn her about the thick coat of dust.
“Poor baby,” Natalie murmured. “What can we do?”
“She needs a makeover,” Julia said.
“Thanks a lot,” Reese said into her hands.
“Well, that ponytail,” Julia said. “Really, it practically screams
one of the guys
.”
Reese lifted her head. “I’m remodeling a building.”
“Please,” Julia said. “You’ve had your hair in a ponytail for fifteen years.”
Reese pursed her lips. She wished she could deny it but, well . . .
“A makeover for the wedding,” Shelby said. “I love it.”
Natalie leaned forward, eyes twinkling, clearly ready to jump on board the Makeover Express. “She’ll need a mani and pedi and a facial, of course. I’ll do her makeup after Julia fixes her skin.”
Reese felt her cheeks. Her skin was one of her best features, or so she’d thought. “What’s wrong with my skin?”
“You have great skin. But I can make it glow.”
“What are you planning to wear for the wedding?” Natalie asked.
“Wear? I don’t know. The wedding’s over two weeks away.
I’ll probably hit the thrift store next week.”
Julia closed her eyes in a long blink. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“I’m only going to wear it once.”
Natalie set her hand over Reese’s, her diamond flashing under the lights.
Show-off
.
“It’s your best shot to make Griffen see you as a woman,” she said. “Do you really want to be wearing, well, that horrid shade you’re wearing now, for instance?”
Reese glanced down at her sweatshirt. “What’s wrong with orange?”
“That’s it,” Natalie said. “I’m taking you dress shopping— and not at the thrift store.”
“And I’m scheduling spa time the morning of the wedding.”
“You’re closed that day.”
“Not anymore. Emergency makeover time.”
“I’ll be busy at my shop—or I’m hoping to be.”
“It’ll only take a few hours, and everyone else will be getting ready for the wedding too.”
“I can fill in at the shop,” Shelby said.
“We’re going to make you so beautiful you’ll knock his socks off,” Natalie said.
Shelby clapped. “This is going to be so fun!”
Reese wasn’t sure she liked being an emergency, but her friends’ hopeful smiles were contagious.
“This calls for a celebration.” Natalie hopped up.
“Desserts on the house.”
Reese was still down about Griffen. This was no time for Natalie’s gluten-free cookies. “I think I speak for all of us when I say, ‘Brownies, please.’ ”
Natalie’s laugh carried back to them. “Don’t worry. I made a batch of cookies for my aunts, so I made some extras for us.”
Julia and Shelby began planning out Reese’s spa day and were still at it when Natalie returned with a plate of gooey cookies.
“I’m so spoiling my dinner,” Julia said.
“Me too.” Of course, when dinner was a can of bean-with-bacon soup and a banana, that wasn’t saying much.
“Guess what?” Natalie sank into the sofa and bit into a cookie. “A reporter from the Associated Press called Carson today. He’s coming to Smitten to interview him about the town next week.”
“That’s wonderful!” Shelby said. “A little prewedding advertising won’t hurt.”
“That’s what I thought.”
They talked about last-minute plans for their own businesses as they geared up for the wedding guests. Smitten’s business owners had met the week before to discuss the importance of exceptional service during the wedding weekend. When Reese checked her watch, she was surprised almost an hour had passed.
She wiped the crumbs from her lips. “Thanks for the cookies, Nat.”
“Yeah, they hit the spot,” Julia said.
“Totally worth breaking my diet for,” Shelby added.
Reese pushed back. “Think I’ll check in at the shop and see if Griffen’s still there.”
“Wait,” Natalie said. “I have an announcement.” She looked like she was about to go into liftoff sequence. “The cookies . . .” She made eye contact with each of them, stretching the moment. “They were gluten-free.” She fairly sang the last part.
Silence spanned the space. Reese swiped the inside of her mouth for an aftertaste. Nope. She hadn’t noticed a texture issue either.
“No way,” Julia said.
“Yay!” Shelby clapped. “You did it.”
Reese smiled. “Have to hand it to you, I couldn’t tell the difference. Way to go, Nat. Just in time for tourists.”
“They’ll be on the shelves first thing tomorrow morning. Just wanted to make sure they passed the taste test.”
Reese looked at the empty chocolate-smudged plate. “I’d say they passed with flying colors.”
R
eese helped Griffen square the new countertop that had finally arrived the day before: an extravagant slab of speckled granite. It had taken three men plus Reese to set the piece, but it was a beauty. She ran her fingers over the smooth edges.
Behind her, Griffen cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
One of his hands was on the slab beside her. She could feel the heat of his body nearly touching her back.
“Oh. Sorry.” She jumped out of his way, her heart rate betraying her. She watched him finish squaring the piece. He set the level and checked. Her eyes roamed from his broad shoulders down to the sturdy span of his waist and she sighed.
The counter was the last thing. The last missing piece of the puzzle. The shop was sparkling clean and ready for merchandise. With one week to go before the wedding, she was on track for her grand opening.
But after the counter was installed, Griffen’s work here was done.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Reese checked it before answering.
“Hey, Nat.”
Her friend screamed something, but Reese couldn’t tell what. “Wait, Nat, slow down—what happened?”
“The guy, the newspaper guy, his article, it’s in all the papers!”
“What?”
“The Associated Press reporter! The one who interviewed Carson—his article on Smitten has been picked up by tons of newspapers nationwide. It’s all about—well, I’ll send you the link. You have to read it!”
“That’s awesome!”
Griffen was looking at her with raised brows. She covered the phone. “The AP article went nationwide.”
He nodded, gave a thumbs-up, and went back to work.
“It’s everywhere, and I mean everywhere,” Natalie was saying. “The
Chicago Tribune
, a paper in Charlotte, and Boston, and Nashville, and just everywhere!”
“Wow, that’s amazing. And it’s positive?”
“Reservations are coming into Carson’s office by the
dozens
. I have to go help answer phones, but I’m sending it now. Go read it. You won’t believe it.”
Reese pocketed her phone and entered her office. “She sent the link.”
Griffen followed her into the small space. Her computer, set up a few days prior, sat in the middle of her ancient desk from home. She sank into the chair and opened her e-mail while Griffen positioned himself behind her.
“She said the article’s all over the whole country. Can you believe it?”
He pointed. “There’s the link.”
A moment later, the
Washington Post
page opened. A photo of the snow-speckled village topped the article.
Griffen leaned low to read it, his breath tickling the back of her ear. His elbows jutted out on each side of her.
Focus, girl
. Maybe if she read aloud, he’d move his tempting self. She shifted forward and began reading.
“The Little Town That Could.” She smiled. “I like that.”
She cleared her throat and began.
“Once upon a time there was a tiny village named Smitten, snug at the base of Sugarcreek Mountain in northern Vermont. The town, home to country-singing sensation Sawyer Smitten, thrived due to its booming milling industry.
“One day the economy turned bad, and the little town lost its major employer. The town’s engine had faltered, and the residents feared Smitten was months away from dying. But an idea swept through the village:
What if we turn Smitten into a romantic getaway destination?
Nearby ski slopes, cozy cabins, and a secluded lake made it the ideal location for a romantic rendezvous . . . not to mention the very name of the town. The engine roared to life.
“An idea was born, but could the town pull off the major transition? Some feared not. Enter a little girl with a big faith. Five-year-old Mia Mansfield was in Sunday school when she heard a story of faith. She took it upon herself to pray for her village. Then little Mia hung a lavender wreath on her door, a symbol of her faith that Smitten would not only survive but thrive once again. Word spread, and wreaths began appearing on doorways throughout the tiny village.
“And then Sawyer Smitten and his Hollywood fiancée Kate Owens decided on a Valentine’s Day wedding in Smitten. The villagers’ hopes soared. Wealthy guests and media were just what the town needed to put Smitten on the map. The little engine began a long uphill climb.
“Renovations began: a new ice rink was installed on the town square, the river walk was revamped, the Carriage House bed-and-breakfast hung its shingle, the chapel was restored to its former glory, and new stores opened—a sweet shop, a spa, an artisan gallery, and an outfitters store, all catering to traveling lovebirds. The town emptied its coffers, then raised more money and emptied them once again. As the money drained, so did their faith. But the villagers looked to the wreaths, hanging on nearly every door in town, to remind them of their faith.
“Now, with renovations complete and the wedding around the corner, all the residents of Smitten, Vermont, can do is wait. The destiny of their village is only a week away, a short but steep climb to the top of the hill.
“When asked if she thought the town could pull off its monumental task, little Mia smiled confidently and said, ‘I think we can.’”
