7. Naomi

"A fundraiser?" my mom asked.

I sat there with my stomach in knots waiting for her to tell me how horrible of an idea it was. Instead, she all but exploded with excitement.

"I love it!" Her expertly lightened curls danced around her tanned face as she bounced on her toes at my kitchen counter. "What better way to get the word out about the move and rally the community behind you? Have you thought about where you'll host it? Or what you'll do? Ooo, we could do a car wash."

I shook my head. "Too high school cheerleading squad."

She pursed her perfectly painted lips. "How about a bachelor auction?"

"Absolutely not." I huffed out a laugh.

"A bake sale?"

I lifted a skeptical brow. "Really? How many cookies and brownies would I have to sell to raise the kind of money I need?"

Mom's head bobbed side to side. "You're right. Always so practical. A formal dinner party then? People will have to buy plates to attend. That'll attract more folks with money."

"Formal seems a little too stuffy, but I like the direction you're going." This was why I came to her with this idea. For all her gossiping and schmoozing, she could always come up with at least a dozen solutions to any problem. And the woman was socially connected to damn near everyone in town.

"Okay." She leaned her elbows on the counter and stared out the window as she drummed her fingertips on her chin. As usual, her lips and nails were the same color. "A barbeque with a silent auction?"

"Now we're talking. Laid back and fun. There's just one problem, I don't have a bunch of cool shit lying around that I can just auction off." If I did, I would have already had it up on eBay.

She smiled at me the way she used to when I was a kid. "No, silly. You don't auction off your own stuff. You solicit donations from people and businesses in the community. Like gift cards and baskets and things."

My heart sank. Asking people for donations? That sounded like a nightmare.

Her light laugh bounced off the white, faux marble countertop and echoed off the walls I'd painted a dark blue despite her objections. "Would you like me to help you with that part of it?"

She knew as well as anyone that I hated asking for help. It was so bad that even if someone offered help out of the blue, my knee jerk reaction was still a hard no. Luckily, talking the people of Stonemore into donating their valuables to help a small, locally owned salon stay in business was one hundred percent in my mom's wheelhouse.

"I would love your help," I confessed. "With all of it, if you're up for it."

The excitement all but bubbled out of her as she scooted around the counter and wrapped me in a tight hug. "You know I'm always here for you."

I knew. We might not agree on many things—paint schemes included—and even though she might seem flaky as hell to the outside world, I never doubted that I could count on her.

"I'll help as much as I can," I said.

She pulled back and held me at arm's length. "You are so much like your father."

"In a good way, I hope?"

"Mostly, yes." She patted me on the shoulder and headed for the porch, snagging her half empty mimosa on the way out. "Grab the pitcher?" she called as Sparrow followed her out the front door. "We have work to do!"

Mimosas and brainstorming. That didn't sound like a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.

Kate and Ellie were running the shop for the day, and as weird as it was not being there, it was high time I handed off more responsibility to the two of them. They'd been with me since I'd taken over Harlowe's five years earlier, and it wasn't their fault I had control issues.

Besides, if my plan worked—when it worked—I would need their help managing the new salon.

On the porch, I refilled our glasses. Then I sank down onto the loveseat next to Sparrow, scratching him lightly behind the ear with my free hand. "Okay, let's say we do a low-key barbeque followed by a silent auction. Where would be a good place to host something like that?"

"What about The Fox Den?"

I choked on orange juice and champagne and had to fight from spraying it all over poor Sparrow. "No," I managed to croak.

She eyed me, a glimmer of mischief making her brown eyes twinkle. "I'm sure those Fox boys would be happy to help us out." Her lips twitched like she was trying to hold back a smile. Like she knew something she had no business knowing.

"Mom," I warned. "Please don't."

She shrugged innocently and took a sip of her drink. "What?"

"Just... don't."

Her painted toes pressed against the wooden porch and set the small swing in motion. I swear, the woman was shoeless ninety percent of the time. "Fine. Not The Fox Den. Even though it would be convenient. It would remind people of where you're coming from and where you're going. And, oh yeah, they have alcohol."

I shot her a look. "Mom."

"Okay, okay." She held up her hands. "I'll keep thinking."

"What about the community center?" I offered.

She let out a muffled sound of disgust. "No, child. Not for something like this."

"You were just talking about having it in a Celtic-themed bar."

"A bar that has old world charm. We could have done a whole kilts and tartans thing. The community center is just a big, rectangular room with no personality. We may as well hold the event in the high school gym at that point."

I tipped my head back and stared up at the mid-morning sky. Deep breath in. Count to four. Deep breath out.

"What do you suggest?"

When I glanced back at her, her attention was on the old black car cruising down my street. "Is that..."

"Tyler?" I asked aloud. My heart stuttered in my stupid chest, and I had about two seconds to wonder if he was driving by to check on me before a more likely scenario came to mind. One that left a sour taste in my mouth. "He must be headed home after a night of mediocre sex with some random chick from the bar."

If my mom heard the petty bitterness in my voice, she didn't call me out on it.

"Ah, yes. The infamous drive of shame," she said, keeping her eyes on his car as it rolled past with its trademark low rumble.

There was no way to tell if he glanced our way with the dark tint on his windows, but I chose to believe he didn't. He'd had his chance. Besides, I was pretty sure the only reason he showed up on my porch a week ago was because we didn't hook up.

From the way my client's talked, Tyler Fox never failed to seal the deal when he left the bar with someone.

You know, except for the night he left with me.

Heat crept into my cheeks thinking of how he'd shot me down, but riding the heels of that cringe-worthy memory, his question from earlier came back to me. How much do you remember?

If he really thought I was so drunk that I might have forgotten the fact that I'd kissed him, maybe his rejection had less to do with me and more to do with how much I'd had to drink.

That would make him, what? Actually a good guy?

No. I could not think like that. If shooting me down had been a purely valorous act, he would have called. Or stopped by the salon. Or sent a message via carrier pigeon.

Something.

"Can we get back to the barbeque?" I asked, dragging my gaze from the street only to find my mom's attention focused squarely on me.

Shit.

"You know, I heard a rumor. I didn't believe it at first, but now I'm not so sure." Her voice was somehow sympathetic, playful, and condescending all at once. "Did something happen with that Fox boy?"

"He's a man, mom. Not a boy." Why was I defending him?

She hummed under her breath. "Spill the tea, Naomi Anne Harlowe. You know I'll get it out of you eventually."

I shook my head adamantly. "Nothing happened."

"Uh huh," she said with a note of humor.

"About the barbeque?" I asked again, trying to redirect her attention.

She eyed me the way she did when she knew I was hiding something, but after a few seconds, she let it go. "What about that little park on Whitaker? It's about halfway between the salon and the new place. And it has that big shelter with the barbeque grills. You could do the auction right there."

I let out an internal sigh of relief. "That would be perfect. Do you think they'll have any availability for an event coming up?"

"I'll find out."

"What about food?"

"Leave that to your dad. He would love to get out there and grill up dinner for folks in the community."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I know everyone thinks I'm the chatty one, but when your dad and his old buddies get to gabbing, they can put my Sunday brunch ladies to shame. He'll have the time of his life." She waved me off like the question didn't even need to be asked. "How did it go with the property management company?"

I took a sip of my mimosa, savoring the sweet and tart bubbliness of it, and sipped a little more before answering. "Good. Did the walk through and signed the paperwork yesterday." Despite the flock of agitated hummingbirds that were caged in my chest when I was signing on the line. "It's going to cost a small fortune to bring it up to code for a salon, but you have to see it for yourself, Mom. It really is the perfect spot."

She held up her glass. "Any chance it's within walking distance."

I shook my head.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Sounds good." Sparrow grumbled and rolled over on his back, an impressive feat considering the size of the loveseat. I reached out and started petting his belly. "What about donations for the auction? Do I need to get a permit or something for that?"

Mom was smiling as she watched me babying my dog. "Probably. I don't know for sure. I've been to dozens of those things, but I've never organized one." She tipped her head to one side. "I'll ask Lizzy down at the city office when we go to brunch tomorrow. She'll know."

"Thank you."

"Unless you want to come with me and ask her yourself?"

Dread raised its introverted little head, but it wasn't hard to see how joining my mom for her weekly gossip session would help spread the word about the event. Plus, the sooner I started letting people know about it, the better chance I would have of pulling this whole thing off.

I'd already put a huge dent in what was left of my savings to make the deposit on the space. Everything else I had would be siphoned off for renovations and moving. This was a make it or break it time now, and I refused to let failure be an option. Not when the family business was on the line, and I had two hard working women counting on me.

"Yeah, I'll go."

Her face flashed with surprise. "Really?"

She didn't have to sound so shocked. "It's just networking, right? That's something I need to work on anyway."

"It is, but you realize I'll be throwing you to the sharks."

"I can handle them. Besides, most of the women you brunch with come to the salon."

It couldn't be much worse than when they showed up in packs to have their hair styled for special events. Those days at Harlowe's were always the loudest and most boisterous, and while I loved the energy, they also left me drained when the day was done.

Mom downed the last of her mimosa and held out the fluted glass. "I think this is cause for celebration."

I leaned forward, careful not to disturb Sparrow's belly-up sprawl next to me, and refilled both of our glasses. "We're celebrating me going to brunch?"

"No. We're celebrating the fact that you're starting a new chapter, for Harlowe's and for yourself. Five-years-ago-Naomi never would have agreed to something like this."

She had a point. I raised my glass and she tapped hers against mine with a delicate ‘clink'. "To a new chapter." One that hopefully didn't involve running into Tyler Fox every other day.