Page 10 of Foxer Upper (Harmony Glen #8)

MAGGIE

It’s as though the whole town has come out for the Harvest Festival.

Laney and Dorvak entered the baking contest, obviously, and although the official judging isn’t complete on the biggest pumpkin contest, there’s no way Ogram won’t win.

The troll’s pumpkin is four sizes bigger than anyone else’s.

I haven’t actually seen him here, but he must have entered the competition somehow.

Over by the fountain, I spot Dr. Khoran and his partner, Liana, once again walking their dragon, Nugget. I wonder if they entered something, or if they’re just here to enjoy the festivities.

I make a mental note to track Liana down later and give her a gift. I don’t know her all that well, but it’s impossible not to swoon over her precious little dragon. Until Nugget arrived, I didn’t even know dragons were real!

When I was thrift flipping things, I took some scrap trim and made a small, intricate picture frame that now contains a picture of baby Nugget.

I had to enlist Roarke to get the photo, and it turned out perfectly.

He was so thrilled to help me make something for Liana that he offered me a ten-percent discount on Jasper’s next appointment.

Gillian has set up a booth for Cool Beans, and I make my way over, curious what she’s got. Vienne is hanging out with her, and they’re both wearing witch hats, heavily patterned with gold and purple stars.

“Maggie!” Gillian waves me over. “Come have a snack.”

“Whatcha got?”

“I made the most delicious apple cider with apples from Harmony Market. I tell you, Ogram is a whiz when it comes to produce. And I have fresh-baked pumpkin-chocolate-chip cookies.”

I can smell the cinnamon-y goodness of the cider from here, and the cookies look amazing. They’re fat and pillowy, and Gilly had a generous hand with the chocolate. “Sold,” I say. “I’ll take one of each.”

She slides a cookie in a pastry bag while Vienne pours my cider in a to-go cup. “Good luck with the contest,” Vienne says as she hands it over.

“Thanks!” I chew my lip. “I’m trying really hard not to be nervous.

” My entry is a vanity. After I repaired and refinished the desk, and changed all the hardware, I connected the three mirrors I found, framed them out in decorative trim, added appliqués, and painted all the wood gold, which I then antiqued.

I attached the whole thing to the desk to make a lady’s makeup station. I even included before photos, so the judges could see where things started. At the risk of sounding immodest, I think it’s pretty impressive.

I wander back over to the craft contest and review the competition. My vanity is definitely one of the best entries, but there are other good ones too. I spot a huge autumn wreath, a knitted scarf and hat, three paintings, and some handmade jewelry.

My eye catches on a rocking chair that looks handmade. It has intricate carvings on the back, and a little panel that slides open to accommodate a tail, should that be necessary. The armrests are wider than normal, designed to be used by humans or anyone with very big arms, like an orc or troll.

Whoever built it designed it with inclusivity in mind and has some incredible talent. I lean closer to read the label next to it and am shocked by the name I see: Gabe Duval.

What. The. Fuck.

Gabe is my closest competition? Gabe makes incredible handmade furniture? Gabe somehow kept this a secret from me?

Oh, that sneaky vulpine man and I need to have a chat.

I march through the crowd, searching for a glimpse of that distinctive red fur. I finally find him on the boardwalk, leaning against the rail and chatting with his friend Mack.

A green, knitted stocking hat with holes for his ears is perched on his head, but I refuse to be distracted by him looking cute. Instead, I stride right up to him and poke him in the chest.

“You!” I exclaim.

He gives me a lazy smile. “Hey, vixen.”

I shake my head. “Don’t you ‘hey, vixen’ me. We need to chat.”

Mack takes that as his cue. “I’m going to find food,” he says in his gruff voice, immediately hurrying away.

“See you, man.” Gabe turns his attention back to me. “What’s got you all fired up?”

“You! The fact that you entered the craft contest without telling me. The fact that I had no idea you make amazing furniture! How could you not tell me?” I plant my hands on my hips and glare at him.

He shrugs. “I guess it never came up.”

I feel my nostrils flare, and I suck in a deep breath to keep calm. “Never came up? You have an incredible gift and it never occurred to you to mention it?”

He gives me a baffled look, like he has no idea what’s happening. “Look, is this about the competition? I’m sorry I entered against you. I didn’t know you’d get mad.”

Men, I swear. I swat him on the shoulder. “I don’t care about that. I mean, yes, I wish you’d told me we were competing, but that’s fine. You have every right to participate. I’m upset that you never shared something with me that obviously means a lot to you!”

“Oh.” He blinks, and I actually watch realization dawn on his face.

I guess no matter the species, males are all the same in some ways.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret.

It just truly never came up, and I guess I never thought to mention it.

We spend so much time at your house, talking about what to do with it, that we never really talk about mine. Or my workshop.”

That stops me. Dammit, he has a point. My irritation melts away as I realize he’s right.

“That’s true. It’s not fair that we only hang out at my house, or that you only help me.

We should spend more time at your home. I’d like to see where you live.

And you have to tell me more about this furniture you apparently make by hand. ”

“You got it, vixen.” He slings an arm around me and pulls me close. “It’s a date.”

GABE

I guide Maggie back to the contest area, never taking my arm off her.

It feels too good having her close. And if my little public display informs the rest of the town that Maggie is off the market, well, that’s more than fine with me.

Ever since I called her vixen and she was cool with it, I’ve considered her mine.

Even if I haven’t exactly told her that yet.

As for Maggie, she doesn’t seem to mind the mild PDA. She’s snuggled up as close as she can, curled into my chest. Despite wearing a jacket, she seems like she’s a little chilly, and I imagine my fur is helping keep her warm.

“Do you think they’ve announced the winner yet?” she asks.

The judging committee set a staggered schedule for the contests, so that winners would be announced all throughout the day.

There are the morning contests, which we’re currently waiting on, but later there will be more announcements for the afternoon and evening winners.

As a way to keep people invested and hanging out—shopping from all the vendors—it’s smart.

I glance at my watch. “It’s time. The first sets of ribbons are probably being awarded now, and Mayor Whitaker will be making the announcements soon.

She takes a deep breath. “It’s weird how invested I am in this. It’s just the Harvest Festival. It’s not like it’s a big deal. But I really want to win.”

I hug her tighter to me. “I wish I’d realized how much this means to you. I never would have entered.”

“No, you were right to. People should experience not only your talent, but your thoughtfulness at making diverse furniture. It’s important.”

“But you still hope you beat me, right?”

“No comment,” she says, making me laugh.

We keep walking, and it only takes a couple minutes to get to the contest area. I glance down at Maggie, only to see that she has her eyes closed.

“Are you going to open your eyes?”

“I don’t know. I want to know the result, but I’m nervous.”

“Okay, I’ll look for us both.” I examine the entries, searching for the blue ribbon, and when I see it, I burst out laughing. “Oh, vixen, you gotta see this.”

She tentatively opens her eyes, which widen when she realizes what has happened. Both of our entries have a blue ribbon stuck to them. “We both won?”

I’m still snickering. “Seems like it. I don’t remember the festival ever allowing ties before, but it looks like we managed it.”

We glance over at the little dais in the middle of the contest area, where Mayor Whitaker is standing, fiddling with a microphone. It comes to life with a screech of feedback, and with a chuckle, he turns it down and greets the crowd.

“Good morning, everyone! Thank you all for coming out to this year’s Harvest Festival and lending your support to the wonderful residents and merchants of Harmony Glen. If you’d lend me your ears for a few moments, I’d like to announce the winners of this morning’s contests.”

He runs through a few, including the quilting contest, which was separated from the craft competition a few years ago, and the pumpkin-carving contest. As expected, Ogram the troll takes the prize for biggest pumpkin, and then the mayor gets to the contests Maggie and I are most interested in.

He starts with ours. “This year, our craft contest received a number of wonderful entries, which just goes to show how talented our townspeople are. The judges had an extremely difficult time reaching a decision, and in an unprecedented move, have chosen to award first prize to two winners. We’ve never had a tie before, so let’s give a round of applause to the entrants who broke the mold: Maggie Crawford and Gabe Duval!

” Even though we already know the result, hearing him announce it to the town is exciting.

The crowd claps and cheers, and I can’t help myself: I plant a quick, celebratory kiss on Maggie’s lips. “Congrats, vixen,” I say in a low voice.

Her cheeks are pink, but whether it’s from the chill or the kiss, I can’t tell. “You too.”

“Now, calm down everyone, calm down.” Mayor Whitaker shushes the crowd. “We have one more set of winners to announce.”

The final competition for the morning is the baking contest. Unlike some of the others, this one doesn’t have a blue ribbon to give things away.

After all, it isn’t as if the judges can leave the desserts sitting out all morning.

They have privately to taste them to make their decision, so this one is still a secret.

I know it’s important to Maggie that her best friend win, and I squeeze her hand as the mayor continues.

“Now, the Town Council wanted me to personally thank the entrants in the dessert competition, because it meant they got to gorge themselves on the—and I quote—'Best tasting desserts we’ve ever had!’ They told me the competition was fierce, and everyone did a wonderful job of creating a dessert with an autumn theme.

But the winner is…” The mayor pauses as he opens the envelope and silently reads the winner’s name.

“Well, here’s an interesting note,” he says into the microphone.

“It seems that the judges liked this year’s winner so much, they’re forbidding him from entering next year, and demanding he judge the desserts at next year’s Harvest Festival, since he’s clearly a professional.

” Mayor Whitaker holds up the envelope. “With the entry of his Earl Grey Lavender Shortbread, congratulations to Dorvak from Harmony Tea and Treats!”

Next to me, Maggie jumps up and down, clearly thrilled for her friend.

I have to admit, it has been a good few minutes.

Maggie and I have both been recognized for our skills, and with Dorvak’s win, the bakery-slash-tea shop will surely see a surge in business.

It’s a coup for Laney, considering she had to close her business so recently.

I lean down to whisper into Maggie’s ear. “Wanna go to my house? We can have some lunch, and I’ll show you my workshop.”

She beams up at me. “Yes, please.”