Bitters and Beauty (Stonemore Heights) by Bailey Swan

Author:Bailey Swan [Swan, Bailey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tripawd Publishing, LLC
Published: 2024-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

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.

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