Page 24 of The Proposal Planner (Ever After #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY

MADDY

Monday morning finds me at the barn before the sun fully rises, laptop open and a steaming mug of coffee at my elbow.

The "River Bend Builds" festival is under two weeks away and today marks the beginning of what I'm privately calling "Operation Reputation Rehabilitation.

" Mason and Henry's first legal clinic starts in an hour, and Savvy should be arriving any minute to help me coordinate our media blitz.

The barn feels different this morning, humming with purpose instead of tension.

Mason's gone, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a sense of anticipation that makes my skin feel too tight.

Yesterday's planning session stretched late into the evening, the two of us hunched over documents and timelines until our shoulders brushed with every movement.

Each accidental touch sent electricity racing through me, building a slow burn that's becoming impossible to ignore.

I shake my head, trying to focus. There's work to do.

My phone buzzes with a text from Mason.

Mason

First client arrived. Mrs. Russell. She brought pie.

A smile tugs at my lips. Leave it to River Bend to pair legal consultations with baked goods. I type back.

Me

Tell her to save me a slice. And don't let Henry try to explain probate law using interpretive dance.

His reply comes.

Mason

He's sketching a flowchart. Send help.

The easy back-and-forth makes a quiet warmth unfurl in my chest. This new dynamic between us, teammates instead of adversaries, feels like coming home after a long, cold journey.

The barn door opens with Savvy's characteristic flourish. She strides in, looking prepared to conquer the world, arms full of equipment bags and her expression set in focused determination.

"Ready to take on Mrs. Patterson's character assassination through the power of positive press?" she asks, setting down her gear.

"More than ready," I reply, standing to help her. "What's our first move?"

"Media blitz." She pulls out a tablet, scrolling through a meticulously-planned schedule.

"I've got calls lined up for the regional paper, two local TV stations, and a freelance journalist who covers community interest stories for the Times Union.

We're positioning the legal clinics as part of a larger narrative about River Bend's renaissance. "

"Brilliant."

I watch with quiet pride as Savvy orchestrates the transformation of her mobile barn system into a media-ready interview space.

The consulting area, set up for private client chats, becomes a hub of creative energy.

Savvy rolls the sleek consultation desk, its reclaimed wood surface gleaming, across the polished concrete floor, positioning it to catch the late afternoon light.

The heavy-duty casters glide effortlessly, making the bulky desk feel almost weightless.

Lighting equipment, normally stowed in compact rolling carts, is next.

Savvy unlocks the brakes, adjusts the telescoping arms, and angles the boxes just so, meticulously eliminating shadows and maximizing the warm, inviting glow.

I feel a familiar thrill, seeing her vision for a multipurpose, mobile workspace come to life with such fluidity.

Fabric storage towers, once used to transport oversized floral arrangements and display backdrops, are repurposed.

Their sturdy steel frames unfold, and Savvy clips on panels of crisp, neutral linen, instantly creating a clean, camera-ready background.

Everything moves smoothly, every piece designed to lock securely into place once repositioned.

Savvy works with quiet efficiency, but her appreciative glance tells me she recognizes the ingenuity of the system. My heart swells with satisfaction. Every detail has been planned for moments like this. The reinforced wheels, the modular design, the seamless transitions.

Within minutes, the barn's consulting area has become a polished interview set.

I know that, whether for client meetings or high-profile media, her mobile setup delivers flexibility and professionalism.

Watching Savvy use it so expertly, I can't help but feel both proud and deeply connected to her work and to the team that made it all possible.

"What's the angle?"

"Community investment. Mason and Henry aren't outsiders swooping in.

They're neighbors establishing roots, showing their commitment to River Bend's future.

" She adjusts the lighting, creating a warm, welcoming atmosphere that makes the barn look like the heart of small-town America.

"The legal clinics aren't charity, they're partnership.

A way of saying 'we're here, we're staying, and we're invested in your success. '"

My phone rings. Jennifer Clark from the Hudson Valley Herald. I put her on speaker as Savvy makes final adjustments to our setup.

"Ms.?"

"Call me Maddy."

"Okay, Maddy. I understand you're organizing a community festival that's generating quite a bit of interest."

"That's right," I say, settling into interview mode. "River Bend Builds is about celebrating everything our community is creating, new businesses, new families, new possibilities. The Morrison Center is one example of the exciting development happening here."

"And the legal clinics? How do they fit into this narrative?"

Savvy gives me an encouraging nod from behind the camera she's positioning.

"Mason Kincaid and Henry Kingston are offering free estate planning services because they understand that a thriving community needs strong foundations," I explain.

"Sometimes that's infrastructure, sometimes it's making sure families are legally protected.

They're not investing in River Bend's buildings. They're investing in its people."

The interview continues for twenty minutes, Jennifer asking thoughtful questions about everything. By the end, I can tell she's genuinely intrigued by the story we're telling.

After we hang up, Savvy grins at me. "Perfect. You hit every key point without sounding rehearsed."

"Years of proposal pitches," I reply. "Same skills, different stakes."

My phone buzzes with another text from Mason.

Mason

Mrs. Kitts wants to draft a trust for her prize-winning pumpkins. Seriously.

I laugh, showing Savvy the message. "See? This is what we need. Real stories, human moments."

"Speaking of human moments," Savvy says, shifting to a more knowing tone, "you and Mason seem to have worked out your differences."

Heat creeps up my neck. "We're collaborating better."

"Uh-huh." She raises an eyebrow. "And how's that collaboration feeling?"

Before I can formulate an answer that doesn't involve admitting I've been having increasingly vivid fantasies about my temporary office-mate, the phone rings again. This time it's WXKD-TV, wanting to schedule an on-camera interview for tomorrow.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of phone calls, interview scheduling, and strategic planning. By noon, we've secured coverage from four different outlets, all interested in the underdog story of a small town refusing to be bulldozed by corporate pressure.

"This is good," Savvy says, reviewing her notes. "Exceptionally good. We're controlling the narrative instead of reacting to it."

More texts come through from Mason.

Mason

Finished with the Millers. They've been trying to get their wills sorted for years. She's grateful.

A few seconds later he texts.

Mr. Thompson asked if I do divorce law. Told him that's not my specialty but referred him to someone who can help.

Each message carries an undercurrent of surprise and satisfaction that makes my heart do small flips. Mason's discovering what I've known all along, that helping people, truly making a difference, feels different from the cold calculations of corporate law.

"He's enjoying this," I say, reading the latest update.

"Of course he is," Savvy replies. "He gets to be the good guy for once. Must be a nice change."

We spend the next hour fine-tuning our media strategy, scheduling follow-up calls and mapping out talking points for tomorrow's TV interview. Savvy's in her element, transforming our grassroots festival into a compelling narrative about community resilience and positive change.

By late afternoon, my phone has been quiet for almost an hour, no updates from the legal clinic, which I'm choosing to interpret as a good sign. Either they're too busy helping people to text, or everything has gone catastrophically wrong. Given Mason's recent track record, I'm betting on busy.

The barn door opens again, and Mason steps inside, followed by Henry. Both men look overwhelmed but pleased.

"How did it go?" I ask, studying Mason's face for signs of stress or frustration.

"Better than expected," Henry replies. "We saw twelve people today. Word's spreading, Mrs. Russell's telling everyone about how we helped her set up a trust for her grandchildren."

Mason approaches me, and I catch that familiar flutter in my chest as he gets closer. "Mrs. Russell insisted I bring you this," he says, producing a wrapped slice of apple pie. A note in his precise handwriting reads.

She says to tell you that any woman who can tame a lawyer is worth knowing.

I laugh, too loudly. "Tame you? Clearly, she doesn't know about the drone incident."

"Or the fog machine," he adds, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Or the Great Dove Uprising of last Tuesday," I finish.

We're standing close now, so close I can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes, close enough to count the faint lines that appear when he smiles. The air between us pulls tight, charged by the same electricity building for days.

"So," Henry says, breaking the moment with characteristic timing, "what's next on the agenda?"