Royal Hearts (Love At The Lake #2)

Chapter 18

Eighteen

CAT

“ Y ou need me to call a bellman to haul you to your bed?” Liam asks.

I jolt awake in my booth at The Nook, instantly aware and on edge. Thank God he woke me up. Frannie and I finally connected and planned a coffee date.

Shoving my things into a tote, I glare at Liam while he snickers and watches me.

“Remember, you want to be part of this industry, young screenwriter . This is what faking it till you make it looks like.” I gesture down at myself, an all-black uniform to match the black bags under my eyes. The set schedule has been grueling, and running this show with only a skeleton crew and one foghorn producer is taking its toll. They’re not only relying on me to be Winter’s PA. Marco, Robbie, and I are basically running this show entirely. And we’re being filmed. It’s a lot.

I also rolled into this town on an empty tank. I hadn’t quite realized how close I was to burnout before I got here. The fresh air and lack of Wi-Fi have done me good. And staring at Winter Larsen day in and day out, dressing him, mic’ing him, watching him— because it’s my job —has been a nice change of pace.

Digging into him like a piece of coffee cake and getting to know all the layers, he’s so much more than I thought he was. He’s struggling, he’s confident, he’s thoughtful, he’s so privileged, and he’s so sad.

“You look fine.” Somehow, coming from Liam, I know that’s a high compliment.

“Thanks, but you should see the crew and Robbie. He’s constantly pulling at his neck during filming breaks and dropping his camera every chance he gets. We’re all a little ragged, honestly.”

“Maybe you guys need some time off?” he offers. “I’d like to meet some of, the uh, crew.”

With that, he turns on his heel and goes to take an order at the next table.

A bell chimes overhead when I pull the door open to Patty’s Pastries on Main Street, across the street from Boggs’ Bar and Grill where flying fish flags still adorn the docks. Frannie swears her new boyfriend makes the best margaritas on the lake.

It doesn’t look like margarita season around here now as much as it did when I first visited her at the end of last summer. Now, there are paper garlands cut into elves, pink gingerbread houses, candy canes, and sprayed snow in all the windows. Patty has wrapped her shop door like a hot-pink present with a big silver bow.

Inside, I find a cozy table with round cushions on the chairs and wait for Fran.

“Can I get ya something, honey?” A short, stout woman appears at my table while the shop buzzes with more morning traffic than I would have guessed a little lake town like this would get in the winter months.

“Coffee, black, please.”

She’s got three pens sticking out of a grey bun, one is wrapped in floral tape, a poinsettia sprayed with gold glitter attached to the tip. “No cream? No sugar?”

“Black. But I will take one of those chocolate croissants?” I dig into my bag for my wallet.

“Today’s raincheck day for locals.” She waves me off.

“Oh, I’m not?—”

“You’re Fran’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Um,” I look around while skiers that must be heading up the mountain for a late-morning run peruse her merch wall and munch on sticky buns. “Yes, how’d you know?”

“You’ve got big-city written all over you, girl.” She laughs heartily as if I should have known that answer.

Still shivering in my trusty leather jacket, I do stick out like a red tomato in a salad next to all the puffer coats, knit scarves, and unavoidably next to the blinking Christmas tree earrings currently hanging from Patty’s lobes.

“That’s alright, sugar. I didn’t mean to make you feel out of place. Fran’ll have some rain checks, and first-time customers are on the house anyway. Company policy.”

“That seems bad for the bottom line.”

“Ah, but good for morale, don’t ya think? And happy people eat lots of sugar.”

“What kind of market research have you done on that?” I give her the best smile I’ve got because I like her already.

She laughs again, her earrings dancing merrily. I’m surprised her sweater, covered in presents with tiny little bows, doesn’t start playing a tune. “You really are the opposite of your sister, aren’t you? She said you two were like salt and pepper, but I didn’t quite believe it. She’s such a ball of sunshine.”

I can’t stop the grumble that comes from my chest. My whole life, my little sister has been praised for being sweet, cute, utterly adorable, and optimistic. I just gave Patty my best smile .

“Don’t get me all wrong,” she places her hands on the table and leans in real close, “you’ve got a shine to you all the same. You can’t hide the sparkle in those dark eyes.”

After a few seconds of eye contact that feels sort of, clandestine, I finally find words to respond. I don’t want Patty to feel bad for me. “I understand. Frannie has always been the nice one.”

“We all sparkle in our own ways, honey. Some of us shine so bright it’s almost hard to look, blinding. For others, you gotta dig a little for the glitter. For the sweetness, and the things that make us special. No harm in being one or the other.”

“Uh, thank you?” There’s no other way to respond to the dose of kindness she sprinkled over me like cinnamon on a latte, for no reason, asking nothing in return.

I shiver again, but this time, it’s not because I’m cold.

The door swings open and a gust of wind blows through the cozy cafe before Frannie pulls it shut, her long blond hair flowing from under a bright red beanie and a mega-watt smile greeting me in the perfect punctuation to Patty’s words. “Kitty-Cat! You’re here!”

It’s only slightly annoying that everything people say about her is true.

I jump to my feet and hug her fiercely over the table. From the corner of my eye, I watch Patty put a hand over her heart. “Aren’t you two precious? I’ll be back with your order. It’s raincheck day, Fran.”

“Is that seriously a thing here?” We settle into our seats. Her cheeks are all pink and she smells like the snow that’s been falling consistently for a week now.

“Yeah, cute, right?” She pulls two purple glittery pieces of construction paper from her pocket and hands them to me. “The kids make them as school projects and then when something gets canceled, they pass them out around town. I got these when I had a two-for-one coupon at the Tipsy Taco for frozen margarita night, but the frozo machine was on the fritz.” She shrugs. “On the rocks did just fine, and now I’ve got these to cash in with Patty.” She wiggles in her seat, trying to get settled. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, my heart melts.

“You’re freezing. Did you walk here?”

Frannie rolls her eyes and for a second, she’s twelve and I’m her babysitter all over again. “Yes, Mom.” She laughs at me.

“At least you’re wearing a hat.”

It’s a knee-jerk reaction to worry. I practically raised her when we were kids, taking care of someone you love isn’t something you can turn off. “John wanted to drop me off, but Boggs’ is a few blocks away. We were in the car forever driving home. Even though it’s been a few days I still needed to stretch my legs. I cannot believe you’re working here for Christmas!” she screams.

“I know, I was hoping to visit, especially with Mom and Dad out of town, and then when Allyn sent me my new job assignment I didn’t think I’d be able to. Then I got the details and I was shocked.”

“How’s the lodge? I haven’t been up there yet.” She takes a bite of the biggest, gooiest cinnamon roll I’ve ever seen. Patty winks at us as she scurries back to her register to ring a line that’s quickly forming.

“The lodge is every Christmas dream I’ve ever had come to life.”

“That good, huh? Well, don’t get too invested in Garland. You know you have to be team Clover, with me. Novel has Ben on their side because most of his businesses are on that side of the Stateline. But we have Vikingstrong, Revival, Patty’s, and Boggs’.”

“This place does well off-season.” My coffee is steaming, strong, and perfect.

“Patty’s is Clover’s claim to fame. I’ve heard Novel is going to try and get their bookstore to add a coffee bar to compete, but I’ve also heard Wanda Crosby is retiring and looking to sell. Try that chocolate croissant.” She nudges my plate toward me, so I do, picking delicately at the flaky crust covered in smooth, melted chocolate. It dissolves in my mouth like fluffy cotton candy, ridiculously divine.

“Ohmigod,” I mumble, taking another sip of my coffee to cut the sweet. “So good.”

“Like Dad’s cotton candy, but chocolate, right?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!”

She nods. “Patty’s the best. I’ve gained five pounds since moving here.”

“You look amazing,” I say, licking chocolate from my fingertips.

“Thank you,” she smiles, big and bright.

“You’re happy,” I add, going to town on the croissant now, it’s not long for this world.

“Mhm.” She nods. “I am. What a whirlwind summer was, but now we’re all settled in and the motel is about to open, and?—”

“How’s that going?”

“A couple of snags here and there, to be expected, but overall, great. Reno is done. Now I put the finishing touches on all the rooms. Can you post about it? We’re opening on Valentine’s weekend, trying to draw a couples crowd since that’s the most off-season month of the year.”

“Good for a soft launch, though.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Am I going to see a ring on your finger from lover boy anytime soon?” I know John has a ring stashed somewhere, and I wonder if she’s got a clue?

“Oh gosh,” her cheeks turn crimson. “We’ve got so much going on with the bar and the motel. I mean we’ve talked about it, but there’s no rush.” I believe her, I know my sister is happy, but I also know she’s dying for a ring, and a wedding, and kids. The whole shebang. “I want some reviews and word of mouth for Thistle and Burr by spring. ”

“Solid plan,” I nod. “Of course, I’ll post. I should have my phone back and access to socials by then.” After my post about Beanie’s sugar cookie latte, I got flagged by Streamflix and Marco told me to lay low online or else I’ll be bombarded by press trying to get Royal Hearts intel.

“You still don’t have your phone? Not even on the weekends?” She looks around as if my phone might be walking out the door on its own accord as we speak. “How are you surviving? It’s a part of you, like an appendage. Or like something that’s grown on you, like that pretty green mold on the trees around here?—”

“Frannie,” I laugh, “You’re spinning. It’s not that big of a deal.”

She blinks, stunned. “Oh. Weird. Are you like, dying?” She grasps my hand. She’s joking, but also, not.

“I get access while we’re on set but they’ve got all these restrictions so we can’t intervene with the show. They don’t want the media to get to me, I guess.”

I realize my sister’s reaction means I needed this hiatus from my phone more than I realized. “I haven’t watched any of the live streams or replays either. Truthfully, I don’t want to see myself, and I’m beginning to understand Winter’s aversion to the media.”

“Winter?”

“Yeah, that guy in the castle who’s the star of the show I’m working on.”

“Okay, smartass, I know. But I’ve never heard you talk about him like he’s an actual human and not the monster in your nightmares—never heard you use his actual name and not pretty man .”

I shift in my seat. “We’ve kinda gotten to know each other while on set. Enough that I know he struggles with the media, his family . . .”

“Hmm. That’s interesting.” She looks around the café, keeping her voice light. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t watched,” she murmurs.

I eye her suspiciously, knowing full well John mentioned she watched a little. “I can’t believe you haven’t watched?” I test her. “Not at all?”

“Nope—well, okay, a little,” she finally admits, unable to stick to the lie. “You’re kinda famous, Cat,” she gushes, eyes watering with laughter.

“What about John? He must want to watch his buddy —wait, what? ”

Her eyes go wide and she leans in. “People know who you are, it’s weird. But we’ve been on the road and so busy, so I haven’t completely kept up.” I know exactly how busy they’ve been, up to their ears in romantic road trips and cozy hotel rooms. I’m happy for her, if not a tad jealous. “But yes, we’ve watched. Maybe more than a little,” she says through her teeth as if I’m going to scold her.

Instead, I prompt her, realizing in the moment how much I want to know. “And?”

“People like you . . .” she trails off, leading me to believe people don’t like me. Exactly what I was afraid of.

“They hate me,” I drop my head to the table.

“So,” she braces her hands on the table seriously, “in the beginning, it’s true, people didn’t really like either one of you, I don’t think. But also, all the contestants are funny and they were airing their backstories and stuff, so you weren’t even on that much. But then, that mountain date when you pinched his earlobe to get him through vertigo . . . and then the wreath date, you drawing that black heart on his wrist . . .”

“They showed all that?”

Maybe I should just hand you the crown, send everyone else home.

“Yeah,” she bites down on the straw in her water glass, “you’ve got some fans saying they wish you guys would hook up.” She shakes her head as if the thoughts are her own and she needs to get back to reality. “But you hate Winter Larsen. I’ve witnessed how much you both squabble, multiple times. ”

I shrug again, and will my features to stay neutral. “Eh, he’s not that bad, actually.”

“He’s not that bad, actually ?” she parrots me. “Well, that explains the whole situation with the Rushmores.” Her grin is mischievous.

I sit up straight. “What about them?”

“Oh, nothing,” she twirls a piece of hair and sips her coffee. “Mom called me because she couldn’t get a hold of you. Said that the Rushmores were very grateful to the friend you told to invest in them? Ring any bells yet?”

I’m on the edge of my seat, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She scrunches her nose, realizing I’m completely in the dark here. “Winter called them and invested in Beanie’s. They’ve already had new countertops installed, a new paint job, a new sign hung above the door, and new espresso machines delivered yesterday. This is all per Mom, but she was rushing to board a plane so I didn’t get the details.”

“Wait —what ?” I’m down to two words in my entire vocabulary as I shake my head and try to make sense of what she said. “Winter? Helped the Rushmores? My Rushmores?

“What did you do to him, Kitty-Cat?” She blinks innocently but she knows exactly what’s going on. “John said he was obsessed with tracking them down and making them an offer they couldn’t refuse as a silent partner. He dropped a bucket of cash in their laps without much in return.”

“Why did he do that?” I breathe.

“Oh, I think I know why. ”

“Why?” My eyes are wide open and I’m trying to read her face for clues. It couldn’t be because of me . . . because I care about the Rushmore’s, and he knows that . . . It couldn’t be.

“You know. I’m aware Mom and Dad think you’re the smart one,” she laughs and holds up a hand to stop me when I’m about to protest. “I’m just saying, when it comes to matters of the heart, you’re a real dummy.”

How did this happen?

“Oh God, Frannie, now I can’t hate his guts for all eternity. Not after he’s done something like this.” My head falls with a thunk on the table, at least I’m able to inhale the bits of chocolate left on my plate as I let the sounds of the coffee shop soothe me.

I’ve never in my life been so confused over one human being.

“Noooooo,” she says, but enthusiastically, jumping up and down in her chair.

I plug my ears and glare at her, pretty sure she means, yes , but the word still rings true to my ears. “Seriously, you can’t be saying?—”

“I think you like him.”

“Noooooo,” I groan back, dropping my head again to my crumb-covered plate.