Page 20 of A Toast for Laurent

“How do you know my boss is making me?”

His eyebrows raised. “A woman like you has better things to do on a Friday night.”

“My bathtub was sad when I had to cancel.”

A smile cracked his lips, and not his usual charming smirk, but a genuinely amused smile.

Eyes suddenly turned on us and I glanced down at my shirt to make sure I didn’t pop a button and was flashing a nipple. No nipple, but everyone was still staring.

“What is happening?” I whispered to Laurent.

“Fresh meat,” he said with way too much amusement in his tone.

“Huh?”

“Laurent, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Michael asked. Or was it Kenneth?

“Michael, everyone, this is Phoebe Hodge. She works for Green Mountain Resorts.”

Words and names came at me from every direction, and I tried my hardest to answer everyone directly and catalog their name in case I needed it for later. Sonya, a brunette, with bright brown eyes and a contagious smile, handed me a business card. She owned an authentic Mexican food truck, which Laurent told me parked outside the winery every other Saturday.

A man who made Laurent look small moseyed over and held his hand out to me. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses and had more russet hair on his face than his head. “I’m Steve. I own the Big Foot Museum.”

I tried not to laugh, as this man was big enough to be Big Foot himself. Was he playing a prank on me? My eyebrow arched, but then I remembered a few pamphlets on display at the front desk that had made me chuckle. An entire museum in the middle of nowheresville Pennsylvania dedicated to Big Foot. It actually was pretty fitting.

“I’m Phoebe. Nice to meet you.”

“I’d love to talk to you about a collaboration,” he said.

“I’m not exactly sure what kind of collaboration we could do.”

“I was hoping we could work something out that could give your guests a discount to my museum.”

“That’s actually a great idea. Do you have a business card?”

Steve patted his t-shirt that had no pockets. “I must have left them in my other pants.”

“Tell you what…” I reached into my bag and took out my own business card and handed it to the giant of a man. “You can call me. How about Tuesday, say noonish, and we can talk?”

He took the card and nodded with so much enthusiasm I was afraid he might bounce his head right off his big shoulders. “That would be great! Thank you.”

Steve sauntered away, and Laurent leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “You know, you just made his entire year.”

It was silly, but that admission filled me with joy. I wasn’t out to make dreams come true, but if I could help in any way, why not? “Have you been to the museum?”

“Of course. Steve invited the whole town for opening day. We had to wait in line since the place wasn’t big enough to hold us all at once.”

“Why Big Foot?”

“He found a footprint in the woods in 1988 and has made it his life mission to find Big Foot. Opened the museum to share his research.”

“And he makes enough to keep the doors open and give himself a salary?”

“Not really. He also does graphic design on the side. I’ve had him design a few labels for the winery.”

I made a mental note. It was always good to keep a list of people with unique or helpful skills.

“Everyone, please take your seats,” a man at the podium announced. He had gray hair that was short on the sides and a little longer on top. He wore a polo shirt and a pair of tan slacks.

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