Page 91 of Skating and Fake Dating
Tapping my knee, she says, “Just remember, differences are what keep things interesting.”
Different from being in a library or at a hockey game? Different like dinner at the Glass Olive in town or tailgating? Different like a guy with a wounded heart from down South and a small-town girl with a heart of gold?
She slips a newspaper clipping into my hand. “This is from my very own time capsule. Nearly fifty years of marriage. We were high school sweethearts.”
I grunt because of how well that worked out for me.
I unfold the brittle, yellowed paper and read an article about Bailey’s grandparents’ wedding. It mentions Gertie andWilliam’s different backgrounds and a town-wide bet that they wouldn’t last.
She says, “I had big plans to attend Yale—clear across the country. Had a scholarship and all. I was going to seize the world! But goals and dreams aren’t the same and the ones worth keeping are harder. It takes courage to stay when it would be easier to go. I’m confident that I would’ve obtained a degree and been a success. As for a relationship, there are a lot of what-ifs. I took the uncertain road. You remember that.”
Before I can assure her I will, the meeting is called to order and everyone falls quiet.
Bailey passionately argues for preserving Maple Falls, all while wearing a smile. “These buildings aren’t just structures, they’re our history, our heritage. My great-great-great,” she counts off on her fingers like she did when we were locked in the basement, “grandfather’s signature is on these papers, pledging to protect them for future generations. It’s our duty to honor that promise.”
She’s focused and articulate, the scattered mess her sister accused her of being, and the Bog Monster, Wobbles, and Bailey Jaily, names given to her by her brother, all funnel into powerful conviction. I can’t tear my eyes off her.
After several hours, the council upholds the validity of the documents found in the time capsule and votes to designate Main Street as a protected historic district. The room erupts in cheers, and well-wishers surround Bailey. Our eyes meet across the crowd, and her smile could light up the entire town.
Alexander MacDonald won’t be happy about this, but it’s a win even though there is still more of Maple Falls to fight for.
I’m about to push through the group to reach her when my phone buzzes. It’s super persistent and irritating Gabe. He’s been trying to reach me and figuring I have a few minutes before I’ll be able to steal a minute with Bailey, I answer.
“Carson, I have good news about that endorsement deal wediscussed. They love the stable, small-town hero image you’ve been projecting lately. They want to move forward.”
The words hit me like a cold shower. “The image I’ve been projecting?”
“You know, the sweet little fake girlfriend and all the community involvement. You took my suggestion and scored. It’s solid gold for your image rehab after how things ended last season. I told you fake dating was the move.”
My chest craters. Is that what he thinks? That Bailey is a calculated career move?
Yes. Actually, because on the ride here from the airport, that’s what we discussed. That was the deal, even though we never shook on it. I kind of just fell backward into it that first night at her family’s house … then I kept falling.
But is that what she thinks?
“I have to go,” I tell him abruptly, ending the call.
By the time I make it through the crowd, Bailey is deep in conversation with a woman who has a bob-style haircut and wears a custom-tailored business suit. I hang back, not wanting to interrupt.
In a friendly but professional manner, I overhear the woman saying, “My brother sent me a jar of your maple butter. He was raving about it, so I finally gave it a try. We’ve been scouring the internet for you but only saw a brief write-up on your local news site. Together with the home and lifestyle network HLTV, we’d like to feature your items in our specialty stores across the region.”
Bailey’s jaw lowers as if, for once, she doesn’t know what to say. “That would be incredible.”
“It would involve some travel for demonstrations and marketing events. We’d want to feature the creator, not just the products.”
“I’d have to think about it. My employment situation is complicated. But things will be getting back to normal soon once all this is over.” Her eyes flick to me, then away.
The woman hands Bailey a business card. “Don’t take your time. This kind of opportunity doesn’t come along often for small-town artisans.”
As she walks away, Bailey looks up from the card to see that I’m still waiting. Marcy, who I believe is somehow involved in the town’s finances, intercepts her, no doubt discussing something important given their serious expressions.
I spot Bailey’s purse—the catch-all of all the things—on a nearby chair. Mama taught me it’s wrong to root through a woman’s handbag, but I’m looking for something special and intend to return it as soon as possible. Glancing over my shoulder, I discreetly find what I’m looking for … right on time.
Bailey walks over to me with noticeable hesitation. “Did you hear?”
Yeah, I did, and while that’s great for Sweet Memories Maple Company, what about us?
Before I can ask, she launches herself into my arms and says, “We won!”
