Page 6 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

“I mean, they’re just talking about it.” I scramble to extract myself from the mess I’ve made. “Nothing official or anything. Let’s talk about you and Kelsey.”

“Carly.”

“Carly.” I jab my fork into my Nutella-filled ebelskiver. “Tell me about her.”

I don’t know why the words are so hard to get out. It’s not like I’m in love with Zach, and he’s definitely not in love with me. Obviously. Thanks to perfectly-straight-hair-and-teeth, freckle-free Carly.

That sounds bitter.

I’m not bitter.

I’mnot.

It’s just that Zach and I have gotten even closer over the past year as we’ve worked together on our Little Copenhagen project. Adam and I have always been buddies—still are, despite the months of silence on his end after I encouraged his ex-fiancée to ditch him on their wedding day, but that’s another story.

Zach, on the other hand, is the one who tells me his secrets. I’m his confidant.

Maybe if I’d ever needed a confidant, Zach could have been mine. But I don’t fall in and out of love the way he does.Like? Yes. Love? No.

Zach’s mouth pulls into a sappy smile. “She’s great. I’ve told her all about you. I can’t wait for you to get to know her better…”

“Yeah…that’d be nice,” I say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mayor Voglmeyer walking through the door. I groan and drop my head in my hand, but she’s already seen me. Over the week I’ve been back in Paradise, I’ve been able to avoid her. My luck had to run out some time.

“Georgia Beck!” she says, much louder than necessary for a space no bigger than a good-sized living room. And the sing-songy tone is completely unnecessary.

Zach stops talking, and we both face her.

“Uh-oh,” he says under his breath as he slides out of his chair. “She’s got her clipboard.”

He’s not making a joke. When Darlene has her clipboard, there’s always an agenda attached to it, and everyone better get on board with it or get out of town.

“I’ve got to get back to the register. I’m sorry to ditch you,” Zach whispers to me as the mayor makes a beeline for me, her square heels clacking across the cement floor. Her lavender business suit is a little formal for someone whose city council consists of farmers and stay-at-home moms.

But Darlene Voglmeyer has all the self-importance of a real-life Leslie Knope fromParks and Recwithout half the charm. And there’s no escaping the determination building on her face. Her mouth pulls to the side like a pitcher getting ready to throw, and I’m the player she’s aiming to strike out.

“Hi, Mayor.” My smile is so forced it hurts. “Nice to see you again.”

I’m not surprised she found me. I’ve been at Britta’s every morning for the past week since I arrived in Paradise. Iamsurprised it’s taken her this long to corner me here. Darlene’s a woman who knows how to make things happen, and I have a sneaking suspicion she wants something from me.

I wouldn’t be filming the first episode ofAt Home with Georgia Rosetoday without Mayor Voglmeyer. Not only did I need construction permits and zoning changes to renovate Little Copenhagen, but the production company also needed permits to film. Despite some pushback from locals, including other members of the city council, Darlene persuaded them my show would be good for Paradise.

I should be grateful. I know.

The thing with Darlene, though, is her motives are never altruistic. She saw an angle in my project that would allow her to make money too. I was sure of it the minute I found out her son, Lyle, is opening a new hamburger joint next month. According to Zach, she’s dropped more than one hint that a mention on my show would give Kyle the kind of boost he’ll need to compete against more established places.

But I suspect there’s even more to it than that. Before my parents moved to Boise, my mom was one of the few people who wouldn’t back down in the face of My-Way-or-the-Highway Darlene.

Darlene likes rules and regulations. Mom doesn’t. That put them at odds more often than not. Especially when it came to Darlene trying to ban books Mom taught in her English classes at the high school. That was a big one, and somehow Mom won.

My guess is, more than anything, Darlene Voglmeyer wants something she can hang over my head. She wants me to “owe” her.

“Glad I caught you before filming starts,” she says, pointing from me to her clipboard. “I’m so excited about the show and what it’s going to do forbusinessin Paradise, but we need to talk about requirements and restrictions.”

I hate those words:requirements and restrictions.They bring back all the memories I try not to think about. The bad parts of growing up in Paradise as someone whose family didn’t really fit in, feeling everyone pointing at me because Momrefusedto be like everyone else.

“Your film people aren’t allowed to park in the street or block traffic.” Her voice is so sugary sweet that my tongue involuntarily pokes at the cavity I just had filled as she points out the window. “And, I’m afraid, they’re already in violation.”

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