Page 36 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

She shrugs. “Just do what you think is best, Hon. You know more about this sort of stuff than I do.”

Okay! I crack my knuckles and get to work.

The hours pass quickly. By the time noon rides around, I’ve put up the basic information about the museum on the website.

“What sort of upcoming events do you have?” I ask Ginny while we eat.

Ginny wrinkles her nose. “Oh, let’s see. We’re coming up to the fiftieth anniversary of the museum opening, so I was thinking about having an event where I put up all sorts of facts about what was happening in the town that year.”

“Fifty years is impressive,” I say. “Why don’t I help you with getting the museum ready, and we can make an event out of it? We can have donuts and coffee.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” Ginny gives me a reluctant look. “And people don’t usually come to these events.”

I grin at her. “Which is why you have me. Social media manager. I’ll make some mockups to get the word out. And if you approve of it, I’ll arrange everything else. Food, drinks, everything.”

Ginny thinks for a moment then nods. “Oh, alright. If you’re sure it’s not too much work.”

“Trust me. This will beawesome.”

The day passes quickly. I dig through the archives for any information about the town fifty years ago that seems interesting.

Funnily enough, Sandburrow got its first skating park the same year the museum opened.

It’s great to have so much to do. Sandburrow’s dreamy pace can easily be boring in contrast to the glitz and fast pace of the job I’m used to.

But I’m finding that just because the town is small doesn’t mean there’s nothing to do.

There’s always work to be done, you just have to find it.

I’m so glad that George put me in the museum. It’s refreshing to have a completely different sort of work to do.

Oh, I’m not sure how well I can do here in the long run.

But it’s certainly not as boring and frustrating as I had first feared.

It’s akin to having something to build, rather than fires to put out.

When I’m working with Crimson, I always have to deal with the hate. Sure, there’s a lot of love too, but you don’t get popular without getting hate, too.

Some of it is just so senseless. Tiny people who just want to scream at anyone who enjoys something they don’t like.

There’s probably a similar energy somewhere here in Sandburrow.

I feel like it’s going to be more muted, though.

Regardless, as I keep working through the day, I’m pleased with the progress I make. I learn a few fascinating things about Sandburrow, such as when Al Capone tried to use it as a stop point in his smuggling.

Apparently, a herd of goats kept drinking his booze, so he had to move out.

The day flies by. When Ginny tells me it’s time that I head out, I turn off my computer and pack up.

“I’ll be in tomorrow,” I promise. “I feel like we’ve gotten a good start on things.”

Ginny gives me a tentative smile. “I really appreciate it. I don’t understand all that stuff.”

“I’m glad to help,” I answer genuinely.

I call Grandma when I’m in my car to see if she needs me to pick anything up.

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