Page 8 of Under the Island Moon (Brookwell Island)

Trina was thrilled to see everyone come through, arriving on time with all the energy needed to dress the tea room for tomorrow’s event.

The editors of the Brookwell Bugle, Holly Brooks and Vince Goodridge, took photos and asked the volunteers some friendly questions as they worked. Holly and Vince, with the Bugle’s support, had jumped at the chance to provide a themed selfie backdrop as well as a Victorian-era photo cut-out board.

Trina was the first to step behind the board and frame her face in the cut out. Rhett used his phone to catch the picture and they all got a good laugh.

“This needs to go with the article,” Vince said. “And it will be great for next year too.”

Before Trina could protest, Rhett texted the photo to Vince. She wasn’t truly bothered, it was good publicity and a tremendous amount of fun. With luck, it would inspire enough interest that maybe they would host a bigger event next year.

Rhett sidled up to her. “You want another one of these tomorrow with your secret guest, don’t you?” he whispered.

She gave him a smile along with a tiny nod. “I can hardly contain myself.”

Everyone surreptitiously kept Molly from working too hard, starting with handing over Marco as the rest of them arranged tables.

After that, Molly was focused on the amazing centerpieces she’d made, which no one minded.

But once they started on the swags and arches, Trina intervened before her friend had a chance to climb the ladder.

“Can you help me with these chair covers, Molly? They came in late and housekeeping just finished pressing them.”

“Sure,” Molly agreed. “This is really coming together,” she said as they worked their way through the room while others did the tricky tasks of wiring swags over doors and windows. “The staging is so moody.”

Trina turned, admiring the wingback chair, antique side table, and a floor lamp with a Tiffany stained-glass shade. “Thank you. I was thrilled to find every piece in the storage area. It hasn’t ruined it, being here for setup?”

“Not a chance.” Molly smiled. “I can hardly wait.” She looked around. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

Molly arched an eyebrow. “Don’t even try to deny that y’all teamed up to keep my feet on the ground.”

“We love you, that’s all,” Trina assured her. “Can I interest you in another round of amusing my son?”

With a laugh, Molly agreed, and Marco was soon dozing on her shoulder. “Guess I’m not as rusty as I feared.” She lifted her chin toward the other side of the room. “They’re ready for your opinion.”

Trina trailed a hand gently over her son’s head and then headed for the group. With a wave of praise, she followed Nina’s direction toward the entrance.

“Go on out and take a breath. Give us a minute to clear out the gear and then you can come in and see the whole effect,” Nina suggested.

With a nod, Trina went out and pulled the doors shut. She closed her eyes, determined to see the full effect just like her guests would.

On the other side of the door, Rhett counted down. The doors opened and on a delighted gasp, she stepped inside.

Her gaze moved from the tables, to the windows, to the stage.

The thick, squat candles glowed in the centerpieces, the light flickering over black roses and glossy black feathers.

Someone had turned on the floor lamp, and the colors spilled across the stage.

This was better than she’d hoped, the perfect mood for their special guest.

“Yes!” She clapped her hands. “Y’all are amazing. This is exactly what I wanted. Better.” She turned to Nina and Molly. “You hit that mysterious, mystical, Practical Magic vibe. Where ‘there’s a little witch in all of us’. Thank you, Alice Hoffman, for one of the best lines ever.”

“Is she the special guest?” Sharon asked. “I half-expect the original cast to walk in any minute.”

“Oh, I wish,” Trina gushed. “But I’m not telling.” She smoothed her hands over the silk cover on the nearest chair. “It’s perfect. We are going to have so much fun tomorrow.”

With the room set, Trina invited everyone to the dining room. “Thank you all so much. I have refreshments and dinner ready. Follow me.” She led everyone out of the tea room and around the lobby to the smaller private dining area in the restaurant.

“If you can’t stay, we have to-go boxes ready. Please take whatever you like home with you.” As each person walked in, she thanked them personally for their help. And when her husband brought up the end of the line, Marco in his arms, she reached for her son. “I need a baby fix.”

“I get it,” he said, kissing her cheek. “And now I have two hands free for spring rolls.”

Laughing, she leaned into him for a moment. “I love being your wife.” She breathed in the sweet baby scent. “And Marco’s momma.”

“We’re the two luckiest men in the room,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist. “You’ll knock this out of the park tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She could hardly wait.