Page 49

SECOND STAR ON THE RIGHT

Bobby: Sorry to drink and dash. Fixing barn doors this morning.

Bobby: You make a good little spoon.

“No, Big Whoop?”

Patty leaned over the counter and pointed to the pastry case.

Leaning over, I spotted a variety of whoopie pies.

Despite the name, there were plenty of whoopie pies that’d require two hands to eat.

I was shocked to see there was more than the classic chocolate cake with white frosting.

I could feel my stomach rumble, demanding I sample at least one.

“What’s the best seller?”

“Mr. Hollywood, have you had a whoopie pie before?”

“Of course!”

There was no hiding anymore. Everybody in Firefly knew me by name.

I needed to know if I was the only flatlander, a term I’m not sure they said with love.

What started as a frosty reception had shifted.

People’s tones might be skeptical, but they thawed more quickly now.

I wondered who I had to thank for the change in demeanor.

“From Maine?” Patty raised an eyebrow. The longer she stared, the more I felt the judgment. “I’ll take that as a no. Try a classic, and then we’ll see about something more daring.”

“O— okay.”

She didn’t say another word as she went about getting my order together. The moment she turned around, the whistling started. I couldn’t place the tune, but Patty bobbed back and forth as she sang. I held back a laugh as she tossed in an obscene hip thrust.

“How long are you in town for?” She slid a plate with a whoopie pie across the counter. “Long as you can put up with Bobby?”

“Something like that.” Vague. I could handle vague.

“He’s a sweetheart. His whole family is. Weird, but in a lovable way.”

“There’s more?” Shoot. Of course, there were more. “You mean his family in Firefly.” Yes, Patty, I’m a highly paid actor who can’t improv to save his life. “I’m a lucky man.”

“Damn straight you are.” Patty took my money and dropped it in the cash register. “If you want to have a seat, I’ll have your espresso for you in a moment.” On the chalkboard behind her, espresso fell under the “Fancy Coffee” column.

Grabbing an empty table, I pulled out my cell phone and reread Bobby’s text.

I must have been in a coma for him to get out of bed without waking me.

I was equal parts sad and relieved. It would have been nice to wake up to him wrapped around me.

On the other hand, what did I say to my fake boyfriend after a night of spooning?

The thought left me with a grin. At what point did going through the motions of a relationship become…

well, a relationship? As I read the texts for the millionth time, I recognized the butterflies taking flight.

I wanted another night by the fire, except this one wouldn’t end with me in my underwear.

Catching the curious glances of a woman on the far side of the room, she smiled before going back to her paper.

The attitude towards me had shifted. I expected all eyes to be focused on me, cursing the visiting flatlander.

Was that because Gladys had activated the phone tree or because the news had played the clip of Bobby kissing me on repeat?

A copy of the Town Crier had been wedged between the sugar and honey.

I wiggled it free, deciding to see what constituted news in a small town.

Above the fold, an exposé revealing behind the scenes of Marigold and Paul’s vow renewal.

The couple had gone on a tropical getaway to celebrate.

It was the wholesome goodness I expected.

I flipped it over. “Really?”

“Hollywood Star Slumming it in Firefly.” I scanned the article, shocked at the number of interviews.

I checked the byline, “Will Sanderson. Isn’t there a spring festival or old theater that needs saving?

” Worse yet, by the end of the article, it called into question Bobby’s kiss, saying sources close to the couple doubted the relationship.

“Well, that’s problematic,” I mumbled. If the tabloids found out I staged a relationship to avoid bad reviews, they’d have a field day with me.

Every celebrity did it, but getting caught always turned into a mockery.

I’d have to be sure and watch myself in case Firefly’s star reporter was watching me.

“Are you Chris Wilde?”

I glanced up from the paper to a beautiful woman holding an oversized cup of coffee. She didn’t wait for a reply as she took a seat opposite me. Golden hair fell over her shoulders, framing her face so that her icy-blue eyes stood out.

“Oh yeah, he is.” Patty set my coffee in front of me. “The Chris Wilde.”

She vanished while the woman across from me let a smile spread across her face. Now that I thought about it, she was the first woman I found in Firefly remotely close to my age. I started believing Firefly had retired couples and a few midlife bears and not much else.

“I am.” Groupie? Did she want me to sign a movie poster for her son? “How’s your day?”

“This face might look composed.” She waved a hand in front of her head. “But I’m a ball of stress ready to snap.” Her finger twirled a lock of hair. “This might sound forward, but you’re the only person who can help.”

I poured a carafe of cream into my espresso. What could I possibly do? If this turned into a request for a donation, I’d give a few bucks to whatever charity she represented. I raised the mug, smelling the deliciousness.

“Gladys called me and said you could help.”

Gladys, I was going to take away her phone.

“I’m directing a play at the school.”

“Oh, she told me about that. Peter Pan, right?”

She nodded. “It’s going… badly. I’m a middle school English teacher.

What do I know about acting? I read plays, not produce them.

Danny left.” She paused as my eyebrow rose.

“The drama club advisor. He got an offer to be on a reality TV show and said it could be his big break. He just upped and left. So now I have all these kids in tights and…” The more she talked, the further into panic she delved. “… it’s going so bad.”

I sipped my espresso, waiting for the ask.

“I heard you’re going to be in town for a while.”

“From Gladys?”

“No, Dorothy.” I’m sure her cheeks turned red even from across the green.

“So… what can I do?”

“I need help with the play. You’re an actor.” She batted her eyelashes.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to keep a low profile.” It wasn’t a lie. I imagined my days wandering about town, poking my head in stores. By midday, I’d be back at the house exploring the woods like an overgrown kid.

“Says the man on the news.”

“Touche.”

“They’re kids, and I don’t want to let them down. Not to mention, I need the stipend from the job. My son wants to attend college in Boston, and that ain’t cheap.”

“I—” I tried resisting.

“This would mean a lot to Firefly. I don’t know if you’ve noticed. We don’t have a lot going on. The school play is a town-wide event.”

I assumed every weekend, they had a festival in the park.

It seemed like everywhere you turned, a small town came up with reasons to bring people together.

So far, Firefly had the comic book convention and Bingo.

The longer I waited, the faster she twirled her hair.

At any moment, I expected her to tie herself into a knot.

I took another sip. What could it hurt? I had thought about joining a theater ensemble… though I imagined they’d be old enough to drive themselves to rehearsal. The people of Firefly continued winning my heart. Helping a school play? It was the least I could do.

“Okay.”

She let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m not making any promises, but the least I can do is come talk to the kids.”

With lightning speed, she leapt from her chair and threw her arms around my shoulders. I held out my espresso to make sure I didn’t dump it on the floor. In a death grip, she kept repeating, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“No promises,” I said.

“Heard. The kids are going to be thrilled. It’s a bunch of middle school kids putting on Peter Pan. It shouldn’t be this hard. I swear, they’re going to put me in an early grave.”

She let go and leaned back. Her cheeks flushed red before she held out her hand. “Where are my manners? I’m Laurel.”

I gave it a shake. “Nice to meet you, Laurel.”

“I’ll grab your number from Bobby.” How did she know Bobby? The familiarity of Firefly’s residents bordered on supernatural. “Enjoy your whoopie pie.” She leaned in, whispering, “Make sure Patty knows how magical it is. She can be such a gossip.”

I nearly choked at the comment. Did this mean Firefly had a hierarchy of gossips? Were some casual commenters, while others spent their evenings retelling every juicy detail? I chalked up not knowing to being a city boy.

Laurel continued with a slight squeal as she headed to the door.

She had gone from a tired teacher to a giddy schoolgirl.

What had I gotten myself into? My attempts to keep a low profile had gone right out the window.

At this rate, I might as well hold a press conference in the park and invite the entire town to attend.

It wasn’t even lunch, and I had my first accosting of the day.

For that alone, I deserved dessert for lunch.

I picked up my whoopie pie, fingers sticking to the fluffy chocolate.

Oversized, I couldn’t eat the pie without smearing it across my face.

I dug in, taking a huge bite. It had the perfect blend of chocolate and sugar.

Chewing slowly, I couldn’t help but close my eyes.

Patty had been right; I had never had a good whoopie pie in my life.

Before I finished the first bite, I dove in for a second.

“What did I tell you?” Patty shouted from behind the counter.

“God damn, Patty. I’ll take two more.”

“Damn straight, you will.”

I’d need them as rewards for surviving the Lost Boys.