I thought about saying those things, then I didn’t, because this was her story. This was my penance.And I needed to hear it. She’s been hurt…all because of me.
Rosie slid a mug toward her. “That’s … a lot,” she said softly.
“It is,” Harper said. “But also”—she tilted her head at me—“he’s here now.”
Skye didn’t look at me. “He’s here to hide.”
I wanted to protest but couldn’t, because she wasn’t entirely wrong. The scandal was a wave, and I was just a piece of driftwood caught on it.
Esther clapped her hands once, brisk. “Right. Feelings acknowledged. Back to fundraising.”
Skye opened her mouth and then shut it, either out of exhaustion or because Harper put a hand on her arm. Rosie leaned into Skye’s shoulder.
“Okay,” I said, because sometimes the simplest route is through. “No press. No paparazzi. Nothing that puts a target on Skye or the inn. But I’ll play the concert as long as we keep it small and very local.”
Shannon squealed. Cherise clapped. Meredith made a noise that might have been a battle cry. Esther wroteYESon the paper in letters big enough to be seen from orbit.
“Venue,” Harper said.
“Here,” Rosie said immediately. “After hours. We shut the blinds and make hot chocolate and pretend the rest of the world is elsewhere.”
“Too small,” Cherise argued.
“Good call. The community center then?” Murmurs of agreement went up.
A book fell from a shelf at my side, causing me to jump,and I leaned over to pick it up. Had I knocked the shelf? Turning the book over, I looked at the title.
What Women Really Want.
Annoyed, I put the book back on the shelf and tuned back into the conversation.
“We’ll call it ‘Cocoa & Carols,’” Shannon offered. “And then in tiny letters ‘and a very quiet acoustic set by a guest.’”
“Or we say ‘John Smith Live,’” Harper suggested, deadpan.
“Oh, heismy favorite artist,” I said, smiling.
Esther ticked boxes. “Tickets?”
“Tickets first. Donation at the door on the day if tickets haven’t sold out,” Cherise said. “Pay what you can.”
“Security,” Meredith said, very serious. “Gregory on the door. He can glower.”
I’d seen Gregory. He was not typically who I’d enlist for security services, but this was their gig now.
“Program,” Rosie said. “We’ll lead carols for twenty minutes, then the kiddos’ choir, then our guest, and then more carols so we don’t let him be the last thing people hear—no offense—and then biscuits.”
“Set list,” Esther said, pivoting to me like a general. “No heartbreak ballads that name names.”
“Deal.”
Skye’s head came up at that. Her eyes met mine, surprised.
“I’ll do a couple of old Christmas songs,” I said. “Ones everyone knows. And one new thing that won’t get me sued or anyone hurt.”
“Right,” Harper said, clapping her hands now. “Assignments. Rosie and I will handle poster design and cocoa.Cherise, you’re on donations. Meredith, biscuits with those little icings only you can make. And get the Two Sisters Bakery on the rest. Shannon, choir wrangling. Esther, crowd control.”
Rosie tapped a pen on her lip. “Costumes?”
