Part 18 (1/2)

No business is immune to a certain amount of unpleasantness.

-Muriel Sterling, Mixing Business with Pleasure: How to Successfully Balance Business and Love Nothing tops off a day of public humiliation like a little family insanity, thought Samantha as she tried to rein in an overly enthusiastic Bailey via Skype.

Once more the Sterling women were gathered for a brainstorming session, and much of it had been productive. They'd gone with Mom's suggestion of ”Moonlight and Magic” as the theme for the masked ball and the problem of music had been settled economically. It would've been nice to have an orchestra or local band, but a DJ from a radio station in Wenatchee was going to spin tunes for them for half the price. To play on the theme, he'd be tucked away behind a decorative screen and the speakers would be concealed by floral arrangements from Lupine Floral so the source of the music would be hidden. The owners of the Mad Hatter had agreed to stock some exotic masks, so attendees could pretend to be mysterious until the unmasking at midnight. Bailey had reported that plans were well under way both for the high tea and the chocolate dinner. And that was all well and good and should have been enough to keep her busy, but now she had a new idea, one she'd gotten from reading a historical romance.

”I think a kissing booth would be great,” she insisted. ”People used to do stuff like that all the time.”

”That was before people got so s.e.xually active,” Samantha said. ”n.o.body's going to be interested in a kissing booth.” At least n.o.body she'd want her baby sister kissing.

”People probably said that about bikini baristas,” Bailey countered, ”and now you see them all over the place.”

”But n.o.body's kissing anybody in those. Anyway, I don't even think that would be legal. It's like soliciting for s.e.x.”

”We'd only be selling kisses,” Bailey objected.

”It does seem a little tacky,” Mom said.

Just like the Mr. Dreamy contest. ”We're already pus.h.i.+ng the envelope with some of the other things we're doing,” Samantha said, making Cecily frown.

”You could make a fortune,” Bailey began. ”You-”

”You could also get cold sores,” Samantha broke in.

Bailey made a face. ”Eew.”

”Yeah, eew,” Samantha said. ”No kissing booth.”

At the rate they were going, maybe there wouldn't be any booths at all, she worried later as she let herself into her condo. She'd called Ed's wine shop to see if he'd any luck at city hall and learned that he was home with the flu. That meant the chances he'd been able to do any lobbying for moving those permits forward were slim to none.

From down the hall she heard the soft thump of sneaky cat paws. .h.i.tting the floor, which told her that Nibs had been up on the kitchen counter again where he knew he wasn't supposed to be. Not that such unimportant details ever stopped a cat.

Now he came trotting up to her, all innocence. ”You are a naughty boy,” she said, and picked him up.

Naughty boy. Her mind did a word-a.s.sociation free fall to Bill Will's racy serenade in the coffee shop. Maybe the pictures Nia took wouldn't turn out. Maybe there wouldn't be room to put any of them in the paper. That was a strong possibility...in a parallel universe.

Samantha set down the cat and went in search of aspirin.

She found herself reaching for more aspirin the next day when she got to the office and Elena gave her a copy of the morning paper. There was the picture Nia had taken right on page one, capturing all the action from the day before. She'd caught Samantha trying not to look at Bill Will's crotch, except that the camera angle gave the illusion that Jockstrap Land was exactly where her gaze was directed. The caption read Compet.i.tion for Mr. Dreamy Heats Up.

Just shoot me now and kill me dead. Wasn't it enough that she had to deal with saving her company? How was she supposed to go out in public after this?

”I know what you're thinking but it's not that bad,” Elena said.

”According to whom?”

”It will be fine, amiga. You'll see. A veces, todo el mundo tiene un dia de pelo revuelto.”

Samantha crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage. ”Okay, what does that mean?”

Elena shrugged. ”It means that sometimes everyone has a bad hair day.”

”I would welcome a bad hair day. I'd trade a lifetime of bad hair days for this.”

Elena shrugged. ”It will blow over. And meanwhile, you will get lots of free publicity.”

”I don't need this kind of publicity,” Samantha grumbled.

Elena fished the paper out of the garbage and handed it to her. ”Read the whole article,” she advised.

Samantha shut herself in her office and read. Nia had done a first-rate job of promoting the festival, naming the various events and even going so far as to suggest contestants get over to Sweet Dreams and buy some of their chocolates. ”For surely any man representing our favorite hometown chocolate company had better know what his favorite chocolate is.”

Okay. She had to hand it to Nia. She'd managed to convey the excitement that Samantha and the other Chamber of Commerce members were feeling in such a way that readers couldn't help but get excited, too, and want to partic.i.p.ate. And that was a good thing.

”This is great free publicity,” Cecily said when she called twenty minutes later.

”It is,” Samantha agreed. ”Except that picture, ugh. I'm going to have to put a bag over my head when I go out.”

Cecily chuckled. Then sneezed.

”You're not getting sick, are you?” Samantha asked.

”Me? You know I never get sick.”

”Well, take it easy today,” Samantha said. None of them could afford to be sick until after the festival.

”Don't worry about me,” Cecily said. ”And don't take any bribes from Mr. Dreamy wannabes. We don't want to be accused of rigging the contest.”

”Ha, ha.” Samantha hung up.

Cecily wasn't the only one she heard from. Emails poured in from other members of the committee commending her on the exposure she'd gotten them, and in each reply she made sure her sister got the credit. As the morning wore on, some of her embarra.s.sment wore off. It helped that she'd stuffed the newspaper in a drawer where she didn't have to look at it.

By midmorning she'd put the whole embarra.s.sing incident behind her. At least that was what she told herself.

Ed was still down for the count, so she called city hall and got put through to p.i.s.sy. Of course.

”Nice picture in the paper,” p.i.s.sy said snidely.

”You sound jealous,” Samantha retorted. Oh, way to win friends and influence people. Not that p.i.s.sy would ever be her friend and even offering the woman a lifetime supply of chocolate probably wouldn't influence her.

”I'm not going to dignify that with a response,” p.i.s.sy said in her snootiest voice. ”What do you want, Samantha?”

A million dollars. ”Just calling to see how things are coming with the permits.”

”I'll have to get back to you on that,” p.i.s.sy said.

Great. ”And when do you think you might be able to do that?” Samantha asked, keeping a tight rein on her patience.