I nod his way because I happen to agree.
Also, someone dropped a bacon-wrapped scallop over here, and I call dibs,he barks with glee.
Truffle trots nervously between the chairs, still jumpy from last night’s trauma but clearly intrigued by all the activity.
There are far too many strangers here,she whimpers as she comes in close.And they smell like expensive soap and gossip—and Tessa and I liked both. It sort of makes me happy, and I’m conflicted about feeling happy. In fact, I’m afraid of being happy. Heck, I’m afraid of just about everything.She lets a few wild yips rip through the air as if to prove her point.
“You’ll be fine, sweetie,” I tell her just above a whisper. “Just stick close to Fish and Sherlock. They’re excellent at avoiding trouble. Although they have been known to cause it.”
That is categorically false,Fish replies.We’re excellent atfindingtrouble. There’s a difference. We get that from you, Bizzy,she says with a wink and I can’t help but frowning her way.
“Okay, ladies!” Macy claps her hands together, clearly in her element. “Welcome to Champagne and Complaints, where the tea is hot and the secrets are hotter!”
Camila holds up her phone, already recording everything for her YouTube channel. “This is going straight to Gossip Gal, so make it juicy! We’re going to play a little game. Raise your hand if you’ve got some dirt to share, and whoever has the most shocking story wins a prize!”
Oh, this is going to be good.
“I’ll go first!” Charlotte bounces in her chair, clearly energized by the champagne and attention. “So, you all know I run The Hot Mess Heiress, right? Well, half my so-called disasters are completely staged. Last month’s viral video, where Iaccidentallydyed my hair green? Totally planned. I spent three hours with a colorist getting the perfect shade of catastrophe.”
The crowd gasps appreciatively, and honestly, so do I. She’s dedicated to her craft, I’ll give her that.
“And the time Imistakenlywore two different designer shoes to a charity gala?” Charlotte continues with a wild cackle. “I practiced that walk for weeks to make it look natural. My followers ate up every last crooked step. ‘She’s just like us!’ they said. Except I’m not. I’m carefully curating chaos for clicks.” She gives a little wink, and the crowd goes crazy.
Wonderful, I muse, wrinkling my nose her way.
“Oh my goodness.” Mom gasps from her chair, where a nail tech is painting her toes a shocking shade of coral. “That’s brilliant! Absolutely diabolical, but brilliant.” She looks to the crowd. “The girl knows what side her bread is buttered on and she basically butters it herself.”
She’s not kidding. The crowd lights up with a light applause.
“I know, right?” Charlotte grins. “Authentic authenticity is so last year. Now it’s all about performed relatability.”
More hands shoot up around the circle.
“Ooh, me next!” A woman in her fifties waves frantically. “I’ve been having an affair with my neighbor’s pool boy for six months. My husband thinks I’m just really enthusiastic about water aerobics!”
I gasp because I can’t believe she just admitted that. The champagne is clearly working its truth serum magic. I’ll have to ask Camila to block out the woman’s face before she comes to and sues us all into oblivion.
The crowd explodes in shocked laughter.
“My turn!” another woman calls out. “I switched my sister-in-law’s sugar with salt after she called my potato saladrusticat Thanksgiving. I snuck into her kitchen before Christmas and made sure every single one of her desserts was completely inedible come Christmas Eve. I’ve never felt more satisfied.”
A round ofoohsandahhscircles the crowd. Clearly, people are impressed with the diabolical behavior.
“Ladies, we have some serious contenders here,” Georgie announces, clearly enjoying herself. That flamingo-pink robe of hers that makes her look like a tropical bird of prey. “But wait until you hear what I did to Ethel Morrison after she said my yard gnomes were tacky.”
Oh heavens, what did Georgie do to that poor woman? She happens to live three cottages down from Georgie, at least part of the year. She’s our resident snow bird and she flees the first sign of fall. And now I’m afraid she’ll flee at the first sign of Georgie.
“I may have accidentally redirected all her mail to the post office in Bangor for three weeks. She missed her book club, her garden society meeting, and her standing hair appointment. By the time she figured it out, she looked like she’d been living in the wilderness.”
The women are gasping and cackling in equal measure.
Oh, I remember that look on Ethel. I thought Ella’s screaming was keeping her up at night. I’ll admit, I feel a tiny bit relieved.
“Georgie!” Mom scolds, though she’s clearly fighting back laughter. “That’s terrible!”
“Terribly effective,” Georgie corrects. “She’s never insulted my gnomes since.”
It’s relatively tame when it comes to the things that Georgie Conner is capable of, so I’ll let it slide. This time.
