Page 54 of Fake it ’Til Fall

“Good,” Principal Whitcomb says. “I’ll send the schedule by Monday. We’re coordinating with the event planner at the Thorn family vineyard.”

Thorn family.

Event planner.

Daisy’s face comes into my head so fast I almost miss the next thing Principal Whitcomb says.

Not that Daisy would be the event planner.

She has too much work already. Two jobs. Her mother’s wedding disaster. An ex-fiancé with a punchable face. A bride who thinks gracious is something you call the woman you helped humiliate.

“I hope,” Principal Whitcomb says carefully, “that you’re not one of those Wolfcrafts who has a problem with the Thorns.”

I almost laugh.

Oh, I have a problem with a Thorn.

Not the one she means.

The one I have a problem with has mustard on her sleeve, too much pride, and a smile she uses to keep people from asking if she’s bleeding under it.

“Growing up, I only visited my grandparents during holidays and birthdays,” I say. “Since Mom moved there, I haven’t been back much, but I don’t have any issues with the people in town.”

Mostly true.

Except Liam, who I would very much like to introduce to a wall. Politely. Repeatedly. With clear communication and follow-through.

Professionally, I know this would create problems.

Personally, I remain open to the concept.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the feud,” she says.

Of course.

Everything in Winterberry Cove comes back to the Thorns and the Wolfcrafts eventually. Weddings. Arguments. Old money. Older grudges. Family trees that look less like genealogy and more like evidence.

“I’m aware,” I say. “But I have a good relationship with them. Mostly.”

Mostly is doing heroic work there.

I don’t know half of their names. I know grudges because Mom mentions them. Obviously, I know which old men stop talking when my mother enters a room and which women pretend not to stare while absolutely staring. Winterberry Cove runs on wine, manners, and selective memory, which is just lying with better shoes.

“With Soren,” I add. “And obviously, Daisy.”

There.

Names.

Specificity.

Basic social competence.

Look at me, participating in conversation like a man who has never interacted much with a Thorn. Well, except the one that gives me a hard time every day at six-fifteen.

“Daisy is a delight,” she says warmly. “Poor thing, with her⁠—”

“I’d love to keep talking,” I cut in, because absolutely not.