“It was the painting that got to you, wasn’t it?” Mira asked.
When Kellen wouldn’t return any of her phone calls, and even a last-ditch bus ride to Peterson didn’t get Kellen to talk to her, she had walked to Sup to get a latte before taking the bus back to Emerald Cove. She had been so pleased with herself for taking the bus without asking anyone for help (well, except that nice girl at the bus stop who explained what route she was looking for). But Kellen still wouldn’t speak to her, and she was out of playing cards until she saw Sup’s new contest.
SAY IT, DON’T SPRAY IT!
FORGET GRAFFITI. TELL THE PERSON YOU ADORE WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND THROUGH A PAINTING. FIRST PRIZE GETS A PRIME SPOT ABOVE THE CONDIMENT STATION AND A SLOT IN NEXT MONTH’S GALLERY EXHIBIT.
Mira didn’t have to think hard about what she was going to draw. She headed home that night, spent all evening painting, and took the bus back to Sup the next day. Even though the contest wasn’t officially over for a week, she persuaded the barista to hang her work up by the cash register so Kellen would see it. The barista had just been through a nasty breakup herself, and she felt Mira’s pain. Apparently, so did a lot of other people. It had only been there for a few hours when the barista called Mira to say how many people were talking about her painting. The picture was of a sad girl who had cut out her own heart with scissors and was offering it in her outstretched hand. It was a little graphic, even for her, but she kept the blood to a minimum and focused on her small, neat dedication at the bottom.
For Kellen, because I was an idiot. Mira.
“The idiot part was my favorite,” Kellen said, his mouth twitching. “I look forward to taking your picture in front of that painting at Sup.”
“I’ll do it proudly,” she said, and bit her lip. “Anything to make up for accusing you like I did.” She couldn’t believe she’d thought Kellen would sell her out for a few bucks. “I feel like a real jerk for thinking that.”
“Your family had a lot going on. You weren’t thinking straight,” Kellen said. “I forgive you. I just hope you know that I would never do anything that would hurt you, Mira.”
“I know that now.” Mira grabbed his hand. “I should have known that then. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s hard to stay mad at you, you know that?” Kellen played with her hair. “Besides, I didn’t want you to have to brave cotillion alone tonight.” He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, you’re like, ‘Kellen, ugh! Why would you want to go to cotillion? It’s so pompous and inflated,’ but I have to go.” He held out the rose again. He was so close that Mira thought the flower might prick her chin. “You see, the girl I’m into has always wanted to go to cotillion, and I’m a sucker for making her happy.” He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips before she could respond. And that’s just the way she wanted it anyway.
“Presenting Mirabelle Beatrice Monroe, daughter of Maureen and Bill Monroe, escorted by Kellen Harper.”
Mrs. Townsend’s announcement was Mira’s cue to take her father’s arm and descend the staircase covered in hydrangeas and twinkle lights. Town & Country did not do it justice. Time seemed to slow down, and she tried to remember every moment she had waited so long for by taking mental pictures in her mind. Her dad sliding the corsage over her white glove (and Mira letting him because even though corsages were juvenile, it was really pretty). Her name being called by Mrs. Townsend. Walking down that gorgeous staircase with everyone’s eyes on her incredible dress. And seeing Kellen waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase.
She took careful steps so she wouldn’t trip as she smiled for the cameras and made her entrance into a society she had wanted to join since she’d seen her mom’s debutante pictures as a kid. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Kellen bowed and she curtsied. The whole exchange felt very royal.
She was the final debutante of the evening and, she suspected, possibly the happiest, although when she spotted Izzie standing next to Brayden, she couldn’t tell which girl’s smile was bigger. She didn’t have time to decide. She let Kellen lead her to the center of the dance floor, where they led the other debutantes in a waltz. As Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight” played softly in the background, she breathed in the scent of the fresh blossoms and Christmas trees and gazed happily around her. She could see her parents and Hayden watching as Kellen twirled her around. Charlotte gave her a little wave as she danced nearby. Izzie was dancing, too, but she only had eyes for Brayden. Savannah had eyes for Brayden, too. Or more like daggers. But those could have been reserved for Izzie. Before Mira knew it, the first song was over, which meant it was time to give her speech.
Frank started to fade away as Mrs. Townsend took to the hydrangea-covered podium in the center of the room. That’s when Mira started to feel ill.
“You nervous?” Kellen asked. Mira had told him all about Dylan naming her lead deb and asking her to give the welcome speech.
“Just a tad.” Mira eyed the crowd. Every important and influential person in Emerald Cove was there to watch her choke. She could put together a killer ensemble in five minutes and put on her eye makeup blindfolded, but she had not inherited her dad’s natural gift of gab. Mrs. Townsend said to keep it short and sweet. She could do that. Right? Was she really going up there? Would Dylan notice if she didn’t? Mira hadn’t seen her since she made her debut, but did she really want to take that chance?
Kellen twirled her one last time. “Do like I do in speech class—picture everyone in their underwear.”
Mira laughed. “There is no way that works. It’s just an expression.”
Kellen grinned. “Maybe. But it’s fun to try.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to present this year’s cotillion class speaker, Mirabelle Monroe.”
Kellen led Mira to the podium. “Good luck,” he whispered in her ear.
Mira needed it. She gripped the sides of the podium to keep from clenching her hands into tiny balls and stared at the audience. She prayed that her voice wouldn’t quiver.
“Good evening, and welcome to the annual Emerald Cove Junior League cotillion.” There was a round of applause, and she paused before she continued, which gave her a good chance to catch her breath. “I’m pleased to be your lead debutante, and I know all of this evening’s cotillion participants join me in thanking you for your generous donation to the Emerald Cove Charity League.” More applause. That was the easy part. “I’ve wanted to take part in our town’s cotillion tradition ever since I was a little girl. Back then, it was all about the dress.” She smiled at the memory. “I could not wait to make my communion just so I’d have a white dress! I actually made my mom buy me a communion dress a year early so I could get in some early cotillion practice.” The crowd laughed.
“When I got older, my mom signed me up for the junior cotillion league, and I learned there was more to this tradition than just white gloves and a dress. Cotillion is etiquette lessons and dance classes with boys, but more important, it’s about giving back to your community and the ones beyond our gates.” She knew Izzie might find this next part cheesy, but it was true. “The service I did through the Junior League taught me to care about more than just a new pair of shoes or getting the must-have phone. Giving back taught me what a true sense of self was, and a true sense of self doesn’t require money. All you need is your mind, your heart, and your family.”
It was hard to spot Mira’s own family through the spotlight, but she knew they were listening, and what she said next was the most important part of her whole speech. “I wouldn’t be who I am without my parents, my brothers… or my sister,” she said. “I’m so lucky to have them, and I hope they know how important they are to me.”
Her speech was met with applause. She shook Mrs. Townsend’s hand and accepted congratulations from several people standing around her, but the only people whose opinions really mattered to her were her family’s. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long to know what they thought. They had gathered around the po
dium and were waiting to envelop her in a big hug.
Twenty-Four
Izzie’s dad leaned precariously close to the gutters and hollered down to her from the roof. “Isabelle, give me some more slack on those Christmas lights!”
His dangling was starting to make her nervous, but she did as she was told and unwound her fourth set of lights. She couldn’t believe how many lights they were putting up. She and Grams had stopped hanging holiday lights when it became just the two of them, and Izzie hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the tradition till she saw them on the Monroes’ house.
My house, she corrected herself. She lived here now, too.
“Just seeing him up there makes me nervous,” Aunt Maureen said. She looked ill as she stared at the roofline in a bulky hooded parka. “Every year I tell him we should hire a company to hang our lights, like the Townsends or the Prices do, but nooooo, he won’t listen. That man is stubborn.”
Paying someone to hang lights sounded wasteful till Hayden’s foot fell into the gutter two seconds later, and he struggled to pull his boot out. Suddenly, watching her dad and Hayden on the roof was making Izzie nervous, too.
Aunt Maureen took a sip of the homemade hot cocoa she had made for the occasion and shook her head. “Bill hung Christmas lights with his dad when he was little, and now he wants to do the same with all of you. That means I have a heart attack every year watching him do this.”
“The lawn stuff is done,” Connor reported, jumping up and down because he was so proud. “I finished setting up the snow people and the reindeer. I did a good job, right?”
The decorations on the lawn were placed so close together they looked like a group of carolers. Izzie suspected they were supposed to be spaced out across the lawn, but neither of them had the heart to tell Connor that. The poor kid had been begging for holiday decorations for weeks—normally Aunt Maureen put them up the day after Thanksgiving—but between the changes in the campaign team again, the press scandals, the family fighting, and finally their reconciliation before cotillion, everyone had been preoccupied. Now it was a few days before Christmas, and they were scrambling to get every holiday decoration in its rightful place in time for the fat guy’s landing. Thankfully, the outside of the house was almost done.
“Great job, sweetheart,” Aunt Maureen told Connor, and winked at Izzie. “Why don’t you head inside and start working on the Christmas tree next?”
“I thought you said I couldn’t put the decorations on the tree without you because you like to tell me where they go,” Connor reminded her. “My Star Wars and Transformers decorations go on the bottom, right?”
Izzie side-eyed her aunt. “Yes, I’m that type A with everything I do,” her aunt admitted, and Izzie laughed. “Where do you think Mira gets it?”
Mira was in the kitchen showing Kellen how to make her favorite Christmas cookie in the world, the Hershey’s Kisses cookie, which was basically peanut butter cookie dough rolled into a ball with a Hershey’s Kiss smushed into the top. The house was beginning to smell the way it should in December, full of baked goods and melted chocolate mixed in with fresh pine from the live tree. Wreaths and evergreens covered every chandelier and banister. Everything felt like it was finally coming together, just like the ingredients in her recipe.
Mira lifted the handle on the KitchenAid mixer and slowly dropped in large plops of peanut butter and butter. “So now we’ll mix this till it’s smooth,” she told Kellen, “and then add in the sugar and beat it till it’s fluffy.”
“We’re going to beat the sugar? That’s cruel.” Kellen stuck his finger in the bowl and took a lick.
“You’re not supposed to stick your fingers in the bowl,” Mira scolded. “Now the batter has your germs!” Whenever Connor did this, she started the recipe over. She was a notorious germophobe in the kitchen, but being with Kellen relaxed her somewhat. They had been inseparable in the last week since cotillion. If they weren’t at the art studio together, they were at Corky’s or Sup. The kissing was amazing, and so was the conversation. She had no idea Kellen knew so much about, well, everything. The only area he seemed to be lacking in knowledge was baking. Today was their first lesson. Mira was making a double batch of cookies so Kellen could take half home for Christmas Eve.
“Baking is no fun if you don’t taste along the way,” Kellen told her. “Besides, isn’t that what they say to do on all the cooking shows?”
Yes, but using a spoon, she thought. She stared down at the mixing bowl as it continued to slowly whirl around, lifting and folding the dough. She needed to learn to relax. Maybe now that she’d stepped down from running the Butterflies, she finally would. “Okay, I guess one lick won’t kill us,” she told Kellen, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Next step. I already put some flour on the counter, so we can roll the balls and they won’t stick.” She gestured to the pile of white powder scattered about in front of them. “Sometimes I add some granulated sugar to the dough, so I put some of that on the counter, too.”
“For someone who is a neat freak in the art studio, you are a disaster in the kitchen.” Kellen looked at the huge mess Mira had created. Flour, sugar, Hershey’s Kisses, and kitchen tools were everywhere. Some of the flour had even fallen onto the floor.
“I don’t like to look for anything once I’ve started,” Mira said. Mira’s mom would kill her if she saw this, but thankfully her mom never left the front yard when her dad was hanging Christmas lights. Her mom always worried that he would fall off the roof. “I like to be prepared when I bake,” Mira went on, trying not to grin. “I’m not the type of person who runs around the room saying, does anyone have a fine-point brush?” She imitated Kellen’s voice. “I can’t find mine!”
“Hey, I always have my supplies with me. I just don’t always remember where they are.” Kellen picked up some of the loose flour and tossed it in her direction.
Mira gasped. “You’re making a mess!”
“You’ve already made a mess.” Kellen tossed more flour at her.
Mira started laughing. She picked up some flour and tossed it back. Soon, flour was flying everywhere, and a haze had settled in the air between them, making Mira want to sneeze. “You’d better help me clean this up, or I won’t ask you to the club for our holiday get-together,” she threatened, even as she threw more flour at him.
Kellen started throwing Hershey’s Kisses now. “Oh no! Anything but that! I just live to wear those penguin suits.” He picked up an egg and gave her a mischievous grin.
Mira threatened to clock him on the head with a wooden spoon. “Don’t. You. Dare.” Kellen put the egg back in its carton. “Good boy. Now you can come with me. Or if you want, you can join us there on New Year’s Eve instead,” she suggested. “They do a countdown, and we have a DJ and…” At the words New Year’s, Kellen’s face darkened. “What? You can skip the countdown if you want.” Something about the expression on his face made her anxious.
Kellen looked down. “I have been putting off telling you this.”
“You hate New Year’s, don’t you?” Mira guessed. “A lot of people do. That’s okay. If you don’t want to go out, we can stay in.” Did she just offer to leave her new black velvet dress in the closet and sit on a boy’s couch? She must like Kellen more than she’d realized.
He gave her a small smile. “That’s not it, although your offer is pretty cute.” He wiped a smudge of flour from her cheek. “The truth is, my dad was on the phone with work all morning. Remember how I told you his job situation wasn’t good?” Mira nodded. “Well, it looks like if he wants to keep his job, then we have to move to Detroit.”
“Detroit?” Mira said breathlessly. That is far.
“His company is moving their headquarters there in January,” Kellen explained. “It looked like they were going to keep some departments here, but now I don’t think that’s happening.” Kellen’s face was strained. “He said he’s going to look for a new job here, but it’s still pretty bad out there, so I’m not ge
tting my hopes up.”
“But that would mean you have to move,” Mira said even though it was obvious.
“Yeah.” Kellen looked down at their hands. “Sometime in the next two months if it happens. I’m not sure where that leaves us.”
Mira wasn’t sure how to react. She could feel her chest rising and falling in time to the mixer she had forgotten to turn off before their flour fight. Her cookie dough was probably soup now.
Connor walked in and gasped. “Mom is going to kill you when she sees this!”
Mom can yell all she wants, Mira thought miserably. The boy she had fallen for was moving thousands of miles away, and this problem was one Mira couldn’t fix.
Aunt Maureen’s color slowly returned to her face as Izzie’s dad and Hayden descended the ladder. When they reached the ground, they stared at their handiwork.
“All we need now is to test the lights, and then you can call everyone outside for the ceremony,” Izzie’s dad said.
“The ceremony?” Izzie repeated.
“Yes,” he said cheerfully. “I like the whole family to be here when I light the Christmas lights for the first time.”
“He pumps Christmas music in from his iPod and everything,” Hayden said. “The whole production gets cheesier every year. One of these days, we’re going to get written up in the papers for having the most Christmas lights in Emerald Cove.”
“I’d rather get written up in the papers for that than any of the other stuff Grayson Reynolds has been writing,” Aunt Maureen mumbled.
Izzie’s dad put his arm around her. “Hopefully that is all behind us now. I’m putting a new campaign manager in place who is going to crunch my numbers and see if we can get back in this thing in time for the primaries. If not, then we bow out. Either way we’ll be okay.”
Ever since Izzie became part of this family, politics had played a part and cost them a price. She didn’t know what their lives would be like without a campaign going on. Then again, she worried darkly, what was going to happen if her dad did become a U.S. senator? It was too much to wrap her brain around.