Page 74 of Banter & Blushes #1
CAROLINE
“ Y ou’re too tense, Caroline,” Gigi said, nudging a syrup bottle toward her with the authority coming from having raised four kids and half the town. “You need more waffles and fewer worry lines.”
Caroline didn’t look up from her notes.
She tapped her pen once. Twice .
Color-coded lines and budget estimates danced across the pages like a dream she was still trying to drag into reality.
“I don’t need waffles,” she said. “I need tourists. Which means I need a functioning website, updated signage, and at least one Instagram-able photo op not involving Max’s hand-painted pelican.”
“Max’s pelican has character,” Mabel said, unapologetically stabbing her sausage.
“It has a lazy eye,” Caroline muttered.
“Details.”
“You’ve only been mayor for a week. I knew you’d be a shoo-in to take your father’s place.” Gigi scooched the sticky bottle across the table again.
Caroline sighed and looked up from her notebook. Across from her, Gigi and Mabel sat in matching sun visors and satisfied smirks, like two ladies who’d just watched a Hallmark movie and decided they could do it better. And messier.
Stabbing at a waffle square, Caroline held it up with her fork and waved it in front of Bluebell Bay’s matriarchs. “Did you know the Greeks invented the waffle? They were originally flat.”
“Those are called pancakes, my dear.” Gigi adjusted her sun hat before taking a bite of her breakfast.
“It was the northern Europeans who invented the waffle iron to create those little squares. Do you know why they needed those squares?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell us?” Mabel said, her voice laced with curiosity as she plunged her hand into the depths of an oversized tote bag draped over her shoulder.
The bag was a vibrant pink, encrusted with faux rhinestones matching the ones embedded in the sunglasses sitting on Mabel’s curly salt-and-pepper hair.
Caroline watched, amused and a little amazed, as the older woman pulled out a flashlight, a handful of granola bars wrapped with knitting yarn, and a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer.
The bedazzled tote seemed to hold the contents of a small convenience store, the straps straining under the weight of its endless inventory.
“For texture and to hold syrup.” Caroline dropped her fork, watching as it tumbled to the porcelain plate with a sharp, resonating clang which echoed through the quiet dining room.
“Can you imagine? Someone putting so much thought and planning into a breakfast food?” She slumped back into her chair, her outburst leaving behind only a quiet, unfilled pause.
“I can’t even get the town to update our street maps. ”
“Bless your heart,” Gigi said. “You need more syrup in your life.”
“What I need is to update Max and his pelican. We need to get everything together by Memorial Day.” Flipping through her planner, Caroline started counting off squares. “It’s only thirty-nine days.” She picked up a bright pink highlighter and drew a square around the last Monday in May.
“Isn’t Memorial Day later this year?” Mabel continued to rummage through her oversized bag as she dropped a purple bingo dauber on the table.
“I knew it was in there somewhere. I’ve been looking for this since the Senior Center.
” She looked at the marker with unflinching satisfaction before rolling it over to Gigi.
Caroline cringed. If Mabel was looking for her dauber, then the Bingo Queens, as the town dubbed them, had already put together a card.
“I wish Daddy was here. He’d be able to guide me through this. I know nothing about marketing.”
Gigi lifted a manicured eyebrow. “And your father does? Listen, Caroline. You’re the best mayor since your daddy.”
“Let’s talk about what’s important, then. How am I going to get the right Instagram-able photo op before summer?”
“Everything’s online these days. Count me out.” Mabel made a face. “I like my gram without the insta. Thank you very much.”
Caroline picked up the pen again and tapped it to her lips, thinking. “Maybe if we update the boardwalk with some string lights, we could do a retro style campaign. We could even have Max do it in his absurd pelican style. ”
“Absurd!” Gigi gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “That’s the word I was looking for. You’d be better off enlisting Boomer. At least you can hear him several counties over.”
No one knew what Boomer’s real name was.
He had been a fixture in the town since Caroline had been coming for summer vacations with her parents.
He was known for standing at the corner of the boardwalk and announcing Bluebell Bay’s news and gossip every afternoon at 4 o’clock sharp.
When he wasn’t playing the role of town crier, he could be found entertaining tourists with his ukulele, tuba or one-man band contraption he carried around on his back.
Caroline closed the notebook, placed the pen carefully in the rings of the spiral, and dropped her head on the table. “One week and I’m already a failure. If we don’t get more tourists to town, I’m afraid of what might happen.”
Mabel leaned forward, lowering her voice with the dramatic flair usually reserved for soap operas and surprise pregnancies. She tapped Caroline on the arm. “You know who you should talk to?”
Caroline didn’t look up.
“If you say the universe, I swear?—”
“Carter Beckett. He used to be somebody in marketing. Big deal. Big city. Then poof. Now he has a surfboard, a hammock, and a poor attitude.”
Caroline lifted her head, intrigued despite herself. “Beck?”
“It would be good for you,” Gigi said, a gleam in her eyes as she slid a fresh round of sugar packets toward Caroline, forming a little mountain of pink and blue. “My granddaughters think he’s cute.”
“Ew, Gigi,” Caroline protested, feigning exasperation as she spread the sugar neatly across the table, avoiding her own blush. “He’s practically a child.”
“He’s thirty-three,” Mabel supplied. “And a half.”
“So, he’s just barely reached maturity. Perfect.”
Gigi grinned. “I knew you were interested. A little fun won’t kill you.”
“I am not interested,” Caroline insisted, though even as she spoke, an image of Beck flashed in her mind. The rebellious hair, his amiable smile. Annoyingly handsome. She shook her head. It didn’t matter; she had a job to do. “Besides, I’m busy trying to save Bluebell Bay, remember?”
“What better way than with Beck’s help?” Gigi pressed. “Multi-task, dear.”
“I’ll think about it,” Caroline conceded, flipping open her notebook with a sigh. Grabbing the pen from the coil, she slowly jotted down the name in her best block letters. Carter Beckett. “After everything else.”
“It’s not a no.” Mabel grabbed Gigi’s arm and gave it a few quick shakes.
“Not a no for marketing. Definitely, it’s a no about romance.” Stabbing the air with her pen, she frowned at the two women across the table. “Don’t you dare think of making this a game.”
Gigi nodded, all too pleased with the direction of the conversation. “Did you know he retired early? Or got burned out. Men always get vague when you ask why they leave their jobs and their wives.”
Caroline blinked. “You two know way too much about everyone in this town.”
“It’s a skill set,” Gigi said modestly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “Anyway, rumor is he helped some coastal resort triple their bookings. You get him on your team? Your summer gala might actually happen.”
“Don’t let the flip-flops fool you,” Mabel added. “He’s got a brain under all his sun-bleached hair.”
Caroline stood, sliding her notebook into her tote. The keys to The Hollis Express jingled softly in her hand.
“He sounds like just what I need.”
“Sandy!” Mabel called across the room. “Get a coffee to go for the mayor.”
“Hazelnut creamer, two sugars,” Gigi chimed in.
“I don’t drink …”
“It’s not for you.” Gigi winked. “Let us know how you make out.”
Mabel snorted. “Or if you make out.”
She turned to go, coffee in one hand, resolve in the other. As she reached the door, something caught her eye. Gigi, without breaking stride, pulled a laminated bingo card from her bag and slid it across the table to Mabel.
Not a word.
Not a look.
But Caroline knew exactly what it meant.
And she had the distinct feeling she’d just been added to someone’s “Summer Shenanigans” square.