"She's a dog nut, like her father," Everleigh smiled. "We've got sixteen rescues at our country house right now."
Something about a couple with sixteen dogs made them seem more real, almost relatable. “We're heading over to watch the polar bear plunge," I said. "You're welcome to join us."
A chainsaw roared to life again, and Everleigh cupped her hands over her daughter's ears. "Yes. Let's get away from this noise. But Shepherd, I don't talk business in front of my baby."
"Got it," I said. "No business."
Stumped with what to talk about, I was grateful when Clara stepped in. She explained the Christmas Classic and the history of the carnival. She ended up inviting them both the game. Gunnar seemed pumped, but Everleigh seemed more interested in the skating exhibition.
When we got to the beach, volunteers had lit fires and set up s'mores stations. Everleigh pulled down her sunglasses to look around. "They give away all of this for free?"
"Pretty much," Clara said. "Volunteers make most of the food. It takes a week of around-the-clock baking."
Everleigh watched the families for a long time. When the baby finally fell asleep on Gunnar's shoulder, they decided to head back to the hotel. Everleigh turned to me before she got into her car.
"I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow. Mouser has the proposal. And Shepherd, good work choosing this location."
The SUVs pulled away, and the beach felt a lot bigger once they were gone. Everleigh had surprised me; she wasn't icy at all. She was almost... nice.
I watched the taillights disappear. After tomorrow, the deal would be done, and Clara and I could officially make plans. I was going to do what I should have done years ago and ask her to be my girlfriend.
"I think things are finally coming together," I said.
Clara squeezed my hand. "I think so too." She pointed toward the lake where Logan was standing in his trunks. "And now the whole town gets to see those cute underpants of yours."
15
CLARA
The town hallparking lot was a zoo.
"Holy shit," Megan said, pulling her minivan into one of the last spots at the far end of the lot. "I think the whole town showed up."
"Good." I unbuckled my seatbelt. "This is a big deal. Thanks for driving; I don't think I would've been able to get my truck into any of these spots."
After my morning shift at the coffee shop and afternoonWizard of Ozrun-throughs, I'd barely had time to walk Dash and get ready. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
"You look really pretty tonight." Megan checked her reflection in the vanity mirror and dabbed on some lip gloss.
"Thanks. After the meeting, Beck is taking me to dinner at ‘The Fork’ to celebrate."
"Ooh, fancy." Megan hopped out of the van. "I've never been, but Charlotte says the Chateaubriand is to die for."
I'd bought the dress for a wedding three years ago. It was a tight-fitting emerald green sweater dress I hadn't worn since. I smoothed down the front and shifted, trying to pick the thong out of my ass without Megan noticing. I was excited to see Beckin his business clothes, and hoped he'd like my curled hair and winged eyeliner.
Inside, it was standing room only. Folding chairs filled the floor, and people were lined up along the walls or crowded near the doors. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, giving everyone a slightly jaundiced look.
"Over here." Charlotte waved toward a row in the middle where she'd saved us seats.
I spotted Mrs. K and Donnie near the front. My heart swelled as he took off his sweater and draped it over her shoulders.
Beck was even more handsome than I'd imagined. Like most hockey players, he filled out a suit in exactly the right way. But he wasn't at the podium. He was seated in the front row next to Everleigh King. She looked completely different from the woman at the carnival. Gone was the white snowsuit and the baby. Tonight, she was in a white power suit, her almost-white hair pulled into a slicked-back bun. She was wearing thick, black-rimmed glasses and a full face of makeup.
"Now, that's an ice queen," Charlotte mused, and I couldn't help but notice the slight adoration in her voice. For once, there was a woman as sophisticated as Charlotte O'Hare tromping around Chance Rapids in high heels.
Next to Beck sat a skinny man with thinning black hair and a bald spot. There was no sign of the good-looking older man I'd seen get out of the convoy at the carnival. "Where's Mr. King?" I whispered.
Charlotte shrugged. "He's got people to handle this for him."
