Page 5 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

The new vision for the Little Copenhagen excites me as much now as it did when Georgia told me about it. A lot of people don’t like it because they hate the idea of more people moving here or of Paradise getting bigger. They don’t understand—or don’t want to see—that what they fear is already happening. The hills surrounding the original Paradise settlements are dotted with huge vacation homes that sit empty most of the year.

That’s not what Georgia has in mind. She wants Little Copenhagen to be what it once was: a refuge from the outside world. A cozy, comfortable place where people gather instead of spreading out into separate rooms, staring at different screens, looking for contentment from technology and expensive toys like boats and ATVs.

When I get back to my spot at the register, Shaylee is walking out the door. She waves goodbye and pretends to smile. “Tell Georgia good luck with everything! I’ll have to try to watch the show, if it works out.”

I don’t have time to say anything before she leaves. Her comment, and the other one implying Little Copenhagen is Georgia’s project, not mine too, doesn’t leave with her.

Its little claws burrow into my brain like a tick on a dog. The difference is, I know how to remove a tick from a dog.

What I don’t know is how to get rid of the thought that I don’t bring any real value toGeorgia’sproject. She’s just pretending I do because she knows I don’t have any other options. Georgia’s not the one who needs help.

I am.

Chapter 3

Georgia

I have to wait forever for Zach to finish taking and filling orders and chatting up customers. In the meantime, after I finish talking to a reporter from an online design magazine,I pull my purse onto the bench next to me and dig through it. I don’t need anything out of it, I just need to look at something besides Zach.

My thumb grazes the monogrammed compact tool set Dad gave me years ago. I have a real tool kit, but I carry this one for emergencies. And there’s always an emergency. I have a million other things in here too—it’s a big purse—but the thing I take out of it is my folder of plans for the house Zach and I are renovating.

After an eternity, things finally slow down at the counter. Zach comes out from behind it with my ebelskiver, sets the plate in front of me, and slides into the seat across my table.

“Soooo, Cathy?” My latte is cold, but I still pick up the cup and sip from it, trying to play cool. I should ask about the house, but this woman he “really likes” is a bigger concern.

“Carly.” He stuffs half of an ebelskiver in his mouth. “’She’s amazing. Talking to her is like talking to you. She already has ideas about how to make the house better.” He glances at me. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s the one?”

I set down my mug and examine his face for the telltale signs of how in “love” he might be. Love is a word that has often crossed his lips, but neverthe one.

My questions should start there, but it’s her ideas about the house that have me concerned. “Better how?”

“Basic stuff.” He cuts through an ebelskiver with his fork but doesn’t put the bite in his mouth. He also doesn’t look at me. “An in-home theater, new kitchen, outdoor pizza oven, shiplap.”

“Shiplap?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I know. We hate it, but she loves it.” He laughs.

“It’s the least expensive thing on her list. I’ll give it that.” I cut through my own ebelskiver. The sharp clink of the metal fork hitting the plate is strangely satisfying.

“Yeah, she’s got expensive tastes. Kind of like someone else I know.” He gazes pointedly at my designer purse/tool bag.

I don’t laugh. I bought that bag with my first big paycheck that didn’t have to go toward paying off student loans. Zach stands to make a lot of money off our Little Copenhagen project. I predict it’s just the start of really big things for him, and I don’t want anyone taking advantage.

“Sounds serious, Zach.” As much as I want to point out all the red flags, I have to play it cool. If he thinks I don’t like the idea of him and Carly, he won’t talk to me about it. Next thing I know, he could be married to her, and she could be draining his bank account faster than he can fill it.

“I know, right?” He exhales. “I’m as surprised as you are, but it just hit me the other day when I was showing properties that I’m ready to settle down. I’m ready for my own house, my own family…all the things I’ve always wanted, but the time never felt right. Until now.”

“Really? I mean, we’re still pretty young. Maybe you should take a little more time to get your career established before committing to anything, or anyone.” I fight back the panic clawing its way up my chest. There’s no reason for it. It’s not like there’s a ring or a date or anything official. “Are you sure you’re not getting swept up in Adam and Evie’s engagement?” I offer, carefully.

Zach has a tendency to get caught up in the excitement of other people’s lives and want some of it for himself. Like the time I got the lead role in the summer production ofHairsprayput on by Paradise’s local theater company and he decided to be a part of it too.

He hated every minute.

“My brother is getting married?” The shock on his face puts my jump-on-the-bandwagon-theory to rest.

Also, oops.

I guess the fact Zach’s twin brother is on his way to New York right now to propose to Evie on Valentine’s Day is supposed to be a secret.

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