Page 87 of The Accidental Innkeeper

Dottie leaned in. “Good oh or oh oh?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “I think I can hear the ocean.”

“Perfect,” said Dottie. “Working as intended.”

Helen grabbed Dottie by the elbow. “If tonight goes to hell,” she hissed, “you know who I’ll blame.”

Dottie stuck out her tongue and continued on her merry way, offering stuffed mushrooms to anyone who wanted one.

I watched as the room buzzed, laughter growing louder, smiles getting softer, pearls catching the light like tiny moons. Whatever Dottie had done, it wasn’t causing panic.

Just… enthusiasm.

I exhaled, lifting my glass of red wine. Okay. The guests were happy. The food hadn’t killed anyone. And if anyone started confessing secrets to the wallpaper, I’d deal with that later.

“Ladies, I have arrived bearing gifts!”

I turned toward the voice.

Lola stood in the doorway like she’d wandered into a photoshoot by accident and decided to stay, one hip cocked and her chin lifted. A low—very low—cut gold shimmer dress clung to her like it had signed a consent form. It hit just above the knee, because of course it did. Her hair was swept up, exposing her neck, and an extra-long pearl necklace draped down her chest, swaying dangerously close to temptation. Matching pearl earrings caught the light every time she moved.

In her hands were cards—not cute little index cards but large ones, glossy and substantial.

She sashayed into the room, holding them out like sacred texts. “These,” she said, smiling slowly, “are your bachelors.”

The reaction was immediate.

The women surged forward like someone had yelled free handbags.

“Oh my god!”

“Let me see.”

“No, I had that one first.”

“Move, Linda.”

“That’s the one I want!”

Cards were snatched. Hands collided. One woman actually hissed. I caught a glimpse of a card as it flashed past. Photo, name, age, and what looked suspiciously like a short bio. Lola had gone all out.

“You know what they say about big hands,” someone said reverently.

“That one has shoulders.”

“Oh, this one looks emotionally unavailable. I love him.”

Lola laughed, delighted. “Now, now. There’s enough man to go around. Probably.”

Two women reached for the same card.

“I saw him first!” yelled a blonde with caked-on makeup.

“You absolutely did not!” cried a brunette with a short bob.

“I felt him first.”

Lola clucked her tongue. “Ladies, please. This isn’t a cage match.” She plucked the disputed card from their hands and, without breaking eye contact, slid it straight down the front of her dress, tucking it neatly where a bra would’ve gone if she had been wearing one.