Page 55 of The Holiday Fakers
She turns and winks at Brody. “Sometimes it pays to be the mayor’s wife.”
Brody gives me a questioning look.
“It’s a relatively new tradition,” I tell him. “To help local businesses. There’s a wooden board and it has a giant flip-chart pad. Each sheet is numbered from December first to the twenty-fourth. Every morning they move it to a new location, and a local celebrity reveals the date.”
“Every location is listed on the town website and inThe Almanac,” Mom adds, then addresses Marv. “That’s the town newspaper. Great way to spotlight local businesses.Andthe bigger the celebrity, the better the exposure.”
Brody’s jaw is clenched, but he nods. It’s the perfect way to get photos of him in Hideaway without it seeming staged, and if I’m by his side when he reveals the new date, all the better.
“What’s the business?” he asks.
“A gift shop,” Marv replies, smiling at Mom. “Erica, I appreciate what you’ve done. I think you’re going to be our secret weapon over the next few days.”
She blushes. “So glad to help. And I’ll see what else I can do.”
Mia’s back is turned, her shoulders shaking.
Suspicious, I move to her side. Her face is contorted as she tries to stifle her laughter.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice low, as Mom clatters around the kitchen and Brody sets plates on the counter.
“I can’t tell you yet. I really need this job.”
“Is it really a gift shop?”
“Kind of,” she replies with a smirk, that tells me it’s probablynota gift shop.
“It’s not the cat sanctuary at the spa, is it?”
She shakes her head.
“The yoga studio where they have goats?”
Her hand covers her nose as she snorts.
“Come on, Mia! The retirement home?”
“No,” she whispers. “But I promise it’s going to be the best publicity for the two of you, like ever.”
She walks off, going to her camera bag, and I glance at Marv and Cara. They don’t seem bothered. Whatever it is, it can’t bethatbad … can it?
After the stresses of this morning, I don’t think I can eat. But as soon as Mom places a plate of crispy bacon, eggs over easy, and pancakes drizzled with blueberry compote and maple syrup in front of me, I realize I’m ravenous. Plus, I’ll need all the fuel I can get to deal with the wintery Maine weather.
Brody, Mia, and I eat, then we get wrapped up and leave the house.
This is it. We’re in public—well, there’s no one on the residential street, but who knows who’s watching from their windows?
Brody’s ridiculously handsome, clad in a brown wool coat and a dark green cashmere scarf which probably cost more than I make in a month, and I’m wearing the same outfit I wasphotographed in leaving the coffee shop, just to double down on my “mystery woman” status. At least Cara isn’t in the same thing.
“You need to hold hands,” Mia hisses at us as we trail behind Mom, Marv, and Cara.
I stumble, and Brody grabs my arm to stop me face-planting on the sidewalk.
“Yep, that’s it. You need to be actually touching each other,” Mia says, then adds with a pointed look. “Like a real couple.”
Brody hasn’t let go of my arm. “Do you mind?” he asks, his voice unsure, like he’s asking me to pick up dog poop with my bare hands.
“Not at all. I think we should,” I reply briskly, then link my arm with his and set off after the advance party.
