Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,33

to do.”

“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of civic responsibility?”

“Who’s the mayor these days?” All the old folks were on the town council, and they seemed to pass the mayorship around—one of them was always running unopposed—and he’d lost track. They always operated as a bloc anyway. “Is it you?”

“Of course not. I can’t be mayor. I’m the editor of the newspaper. That would be a massive conflict of interest. Karl’s the mayor.”

“Right.” He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Hadn’t Sawyer just referenced Eiko’s “situational” approach to journalistic ethics?

“Anyway,” Eiko said, delivering her closing argument, “this isn’t something I should have to guilt you into attending. You’re going to want to hear the news. We have quite an exciting opportunity for some entrepreneurial young person or other looking to innovate.” She winked.

Hold on. Hold right on.

Did Eiko know about his restaurant ambitions? How was that possible? He’d taken Sawyer’s advice and not spoken to her about it. He hadn’t spoken to anyone except…

God damn her.

And God damn him. He’d been sure he could trust her as she looked into his eyes and shook his hand, there in one of their truce bubbles where the usual rules did not apply.

He should have known better.

He should also know better than to feel hurt.

But this sense he had suddenly of not being able to get a full breath in, almost like someone had delivered a swift, sharp, invisible blow to his solar plexus, seemed an awful lot like hurt.

But that was dumb. He was being melodramatic. Not to mention illogical. Hurt implied a baseline of goodwill available to be breached. He and Maya did not have that. If he’d thought for a minute that last night had meant something, with her snuggling against his hand and kissing him, all he had to do to jolt himself back to reality was remember her saying, “I thought you were someone else.” So yeah, hurt was the wrong reaction. He worked on summoning some anger instead, and oh, look, it turned out he had a well of that to draw on.

“Can you get Maya to come, too?” Eiko asked. “She’ll want to be there.”

“Why would you think I could get Maya to come?” he snapped. He winced. That had come out much more harshly than he’d intended. There was no call to be yelling at little old ladies, even maddeningly meddlesome ones.

Eiko narrowed her eyes. “Because she listens to you.”

“Uh, no, she hates me.”

And right now, it was pretty damn mutual.

Eiko shook her head. “Whatever. Just be there at six. I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

After a jam-packed day that included a lengthy phone call with Holden Hampshire’s manager—Holden Hampshire’s manager!—Maya kicked off her shoes, sprawled on her bed, and stared at her ceiling. Slowly but inexorably, a displacement started to happen. The amazed elation that had been crackling up and down her spine faded in favor of a creeping sense of dread.

This had been happening all day, this cycling of joy and panic. She was on a roller coaster of giddy highs followed by the reality check of free falls that might or might not herald her doom. Holden Hampshire was either going to make the Moonflower Bay Theater Company or he was going to break it.

She blew out a breath and examined her ceiling. It was an ugly, water-stained drop ceiling that was probably forty years old if it was a day. She wondered what was behind it. Ductwork? Asbestos that was slowly killing her? Perhaps a previously undiscovered Shakespeare manuscript worth millions?

She hadn’t told Eve and Nora about Holden yet. She’d been waiting for the end of the day, because she wanted to toast her amazing news. She grabbed her phone. I need to transform my apartment into guest quarters fit for Hollywood royalty. Any ideas?

Well, okay, “royalty” might be a bit of a stretch, but he had some attention for his role in Submergence, and it was getting to the point where people were talking about him as an actor as much as they’d ever talked about him as a musician. Also, come over. It’s happy hour. And I’m happy. And about to cue up “Petal Power.” We have something to toast.

Eve: Does this mean what I think it does?!

Nora: OMG!

Eve: I’ll be right over.

Nora: Same.

Maya rummaged in her purse, pulled out a fortune cookie from the stash her mother had given her yesterday, and crunched it open. A wise man once said do not put all eggs in a single