Chapter 1
“This woman has forty-two million followers, on this one social media alone!” announced Leigh Hill in a dramatic stage whisper, pointing to the number 42.7M on her phone’s screen, then up at the serene young woman standing in the middle of the store sniffing a candle.
“Wouldn’t that be a social medium, if it’s just the one?” asked her friend and business partner, Paloma Finch. Paloma peeked around the doorway in the side room at the Wicked Wick candle shop.
The front of the shop was more full of people than it had ever been, including parties and potlucks and even their store’s grand opening several years ago. And while the typical Wicked Wick clientele for custom scents, candles, and various metaphysical items was
retirement-age Fall Haven residents, the current set of customers was less than half that age and infinitely more hip.
“Why are they all so good-looking and perfectly put-together?” Paloma asked. Each person perusing the store was young and dressed as if they had just come from a photoshoot for Vogue, or whatever Vogue’s cooler, younger counterpart might be. Paloma glanced down at her own overly-worn long chambray skirt with cargo pockets, simple black floral blouse, and black leather huarache sandals.
“I know, right?” Leigh motioned to her own denim shorts, white t-shirt, and white canvas sneakers with a hole in the toe. “Not my best effort, for sure.”
“Should we get out there?” Paloma asked, pulling her long, black hair down from its messy bun. “Do I look okay?”
Leigh gave her a thumbs-sideways hand gesture, and Paloma slapped her hand away with a scowl.
“Ouch. At least have the decency to lie to me,” Paloma said.
The cast of twenty or so strolled around the store, picking up a Mochas on Parade candle for a sniff here, a Lavender at Adam’s Cabin candle for a sniff there, and filling their small shopping baskets with candles, soaps, tarot card sets, jewelry, and small velvet bags full of loose gems and crystals.
“This is a great day for the Wicked Wick bank account, that’s for sure!” Leigh whispered excitedly.
“So, what does this person want with Fall Haven anyway?” Paloma asked.
Leigh held up her phone and clicked away at the screen for a few seconds, pulling up a news story from an entertainment website. “Look. Her name is Song Yu. She’s a specialty self-care influencer.”
Paloma gave her a blank look with a few long, slow blinks. “A what now?”
“Specialty makeup, skincare, facial products, organic bespoke shampoo, things like that,” Leigh explained. “She had a contest on her various social media, asking people where she should get married. Remember? I told you about this like a month ago.”
Paloma shrugged and shook her head. “If you say so.”
“I know I say a lot of things, and when it comes to celebrity gossip, you always just block it out,” Leigh said, feigning offense. “But regardless, I submitted Fall Haven as a great spot to get married, and added a link to the Old Maple Inn.”
“Oh Leigh, you didn’t! Adam is going to kill you dead. He will actually murder you when he finds out you are the one who did this to him!” Paloma knew that the last thing Adam Salem would want out at his inn so soon after the grand opening was a hundred of these young, hip, internet-famous out-of-towners.
“Oh yes, I did! And yes, he definitely is,” Leigh said, dropping her voice into a near whisper. “But maybe we should take it easy on the M-word and the K-word after all the M-ing and K-ing that has been happening around here lately. Let’s not jinx the blissful four months that have passed without some random d-e-d body showing up in the middle of everything.”
“Good idea.” Paloma turned her attention to Song, the apparent ringleader of the whole circus. “So, wait. What does this Song person want with Fall Haven right now, like today?” Paloma asked, still not getting it.
“You’re still not getting it,” Leigh said with an exasperated sigh. She clicked back over to the news story and held her phone up right in front of Paloma’s face to read. “She is getting married here! Next week!”
“Married? Like she actually chose Fall Haven for her wedding site? That’s why these people are all here?” Paloma glanced around incredulously, taking in all the young shoppers. Beyond the Wicked Wick shop itself, dozens more people milled about on the sidewalk and strolled through the town square park across the street.
“Yeah, can you believe it? She chose this sleepy little mostly-murder-free town over cool and exotic places like Bora Bora and Bimini.” Leigh followed Paloma’s eyes outside the large shop window. Her immediate thought was that a college photography class had been given the assignment “Americana” and had been let loose upon the town. Every single person that walked by or sat on a bench in the park was holding up a phone, taking photos and videos of themselves. “Jeez,” Leigh muttered. “Vain much?”
“And you think she’s going to want to do this at the Old Maple Inn? Have the wedding there?” Paloma asked.
“Yep! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. They have rented the whole place out, and I think all the hotels and motels in town are full, too. What with all the fans and extra people running around. Maybe even some neighboring towns. We’ll even be on the news,” Leigh said, gazing up at the heavens with stars in her eyes. “Ooh! And even better yet! We’ll be on TMZ! There will be paparazzi everywhere if they aren’t here already!”
Paloma grimaced. “Why are you saying that like it’s a good thing? And all these people at the inn, huh? Well, Leigh, it has been nice knowing you.”
“Adam will be kissing the ground I walk on by the time this is all over,” Leigh said as she danced and did a little shimmy next to her best friend. “Unless you want to do the kissing? Of Adam, that is. Not my walking-on ground.” She wiggled her eyebrows and made exaggerated kissing noises like she was calling an old cat.
Paloma swiped at Leigh as a blush crept up her neck to her cheeks.
“Woman, you need to lock that down before some random beautiful ballerina moves to town and gets all up in your chili,” Leigh said.
“My chili? What does that even mean?” Paloma asked. The bell over the shop door chimed as more young customers filed in, most of them holding phones up in front of themselves as they talked, already mid-video.
###
Over the last several months, Paloma had grown closer to the owner and renovator of the Old Maple Inn, Adam Salem. She and Leigh had helped exonerate Adam’s dad, Kane, as a suspect in a murder back before the renovations started, then had spent the next few months coordinating and curating the collection of local wares that would be displayed, used, and sold at the inn.
But Paloma contested that whatever feelings she might be developing for Adam were one-sided on her end. While the normally taciturn Adam seemed to be opening up more lately, she wasn’t sure if it was gratefulness on his part or something more. Besides, there was the added wrinkle of Adam’s best friend, Cole, who was the local sheriff and – inconveniently – Paloma’s ex-husband. A few years as high school sweethearts had led to a brief marriage and a quick divorce almost two decades ago. Then last winter, the two had rekindled their relationship, however briefly.
Leigh stood up straight, ran her hands over her complex tapestry of blond French braids to smooth down any wild bits, and stepped confidently toward the petite young woman with the raven-colored pixie cut.
“Song, hi. Wicked welcome to you. I’m Leigh Hill, and this is Paloma Finch.” Leigh gestured back to where Paloma still lurked behind the doorway with her mouth pressed into a tight nervous line. “We’re the owners of this shop.”
Two of the other young women broke away from the pack in the store and crowded around Song like she was the sun and they were the planets in her solar system. Song was about the same height as Leigh, which is to say she was rather on the shorter side. She was delicate and small-boned with sharp cheekbones that Paloma wasn’t afraid to admit she was a little jealous of. Paloma stepped fully out from the safety of the side room and joined the group in the middle of the store between the tea counter and the bookshelves.
“Namaste,” Song said warmly in greeting as she folded her hands together in a prayerful motion and gave them a shallow bow. “This place is wonderful. Such good feels and impeccable feng shui.”
Leigh nodded along with Song while Paloma studied the rest of Song’s entourage. The other women milling around the store appeared to be around the same age as Song and were all just as beautiful. Paloma remembered that age, when you could forget to take off your makeup at night without any long-term repercussions, and yoga pants were something to be celebrated, not feared.
Leigh stared pointedly at Paloma as if imploring her to say something.
Paloma smiled and said, “We’re so excited you chose Fall Haven?” She didn’t mean to make the words come out as a question, but they did.
Leigh shot Paloma an exasperated look and stepped in, her corporate marketing expertise taking over. “You’re going to love it here. There are so many artisanal products in town that will really make your wedding to Hudson pop.”
Leigh turned to explain to Paloma. “You know Hudson Smith-Jones, right? He’s the action star from all those Renegade Warrior movies.” She turned a beaming smile back to Song and her cohorts. “We just saw Renegade Warrior: Back to the Past last weekend. We loved it. Didn’t we, Pal?”
Paloma definitely remembered Leigh coming over last week, talking a mile a minute and insisting she stream this ridiculous movie. It was something about a warrior of some kind who was sent back in time to fight knights or something. Paloma had fought to stay awake for the whole thing. Leigh had pouted a little, claiming that Paloma just didn’t understand the symbolism. But when pressed, Leigh didn’t understand what the symbolism was either.
“Oh yes, he was great,” Paloma offered up and she meant it. The movie might have been silly, but Hudson Smith-Jones, the main character and now the apparent groom to bride Song Yu, she now realized, was actually quite good in it.
“Hudson proposed to me at the premiere of his latest movie, Renegade Warrior: Planet X, right there on the red carpet,” Song said as she pressed her hand to her heart. “It was so romantic. Hashtag romance, hashtag blessed.” She closed her eyes as if reliving the memory, and while she did so, Paloma mouthed “hashtag” to Leigh.
Leigh made a “zip it'' motion with her lips pressed together.
Paloma noticed the two women behind Song also closed their eyes as if they had been there at the moment and were just blessed to be in Song’s sphere.
“So what brings you here to our shop?” Paloma tried to make a genuine effort this time. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy having the shop this crowded or that she even had anything against Song or social media or influencing, whatever that was exactly. It just wasn’t her world. Or at least not her world anymore. She and Leigh had both spent twenty-plus years climbing the corporate ladders in their respective fields before reprioritizing and coming back to their hometown to open up their own store.
“Fall Haven won the contest to have our wedding here, which I’m sure you already know,” Song started enthusiastically. “And we want it to be super authentic and real, you know. We’re going to be Old Maple Inn’s first celebrity guests, live-streaming and posting the journey to our nuptials. We’ve booked the whole place. Plus, we want all the food to be like, farm-to-table and locally made, and all the decorations and flowers and everything to be handmade and local straight from the cute little residents of this cute little town! Just like you two! Stargazer magazine is going to do a spread.” Song paused to allow time for a reaction.
Paloma and Leigh exchanged a look. “That sounds swell,” Paloma said.
“And I want to do something really special, to make our wedding really personal for Hudson and me,” she continued, and Paloma could find no irony in her voice over the fact that this personal wedding would be streamed to over forty-two million followers on some very impersonal social medium. “So what we’re doing here in your super quaint shop is… we want to do a signature scent wedding.”
Song paused again, waiting for a reaction. She flipped her black hair back off her forehead and waited for everyone to catch up. After a beat, the young women comprising the entourage oohed and ahhed and murmured their compliments about the idea.
“So as part of my quest to keep this little soiree as charmingly local and true to the area as possible, I want to hire you to create brand new scents and aromas that will be used exclusively for our wedding. You know, perfumes, lotions and soaps, candles everywhere, all that stuff. Something that really captures our love and our oneness.” Song clasped her hands together to illustrate their intertwined love.
Leigh clapped her hands. “That’s a great idea! I’ve read all about this. We can do a whole custom ScentStory for you, or more than one!” Leigh glanced at Paloma, this time with dollar signs in her eyes. “Maybe even, a year from now or so, we could release a whole collection for the public to buy for your first anniversary?” Leigh’s marketing expertise and creativity were in overdrive.
Paloma nodded along with a placating smile but was a teeny bit less enthusiastic. She actually loved the idea in principle, but next week was a really short amount of time for such a challenge. And she didn’t know Song or Hudson, other than meeting Song right this moment and seeing Hudson sweaty and glistening on her TV screen. To pull together something this big, and appropriate and personal for the bride and groom, would take weeks or months to do properly, not mere days.
“While I do love the idea of a wedding rooted in scent, especially for the purpose of olfactorally grounding your core memories of the day itself, I don’t know anything about either of you or your relationship.” Paloma pushed a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure how to give you the perfect product for such a high-profile wedding in such a small amount of time.”
“You can have full access to Hudson and myself day and night, starting right now,” Song offered. “And of course, you’ll spend a ton of time with my bridesmaid and maid of honor.” She waved a hand toward the women flanking her.
“This is Daisy, the maid of honor and first place winner of the poll,” Song said, gesturing to a willowy young woman with shoulder-length red hair styled exactly like Farrah Fawcett circa 1976. “She runs a giant food site and brand centered on healthy recipes, restaurant reviews, things like that.”
Daisy offered her hand to be shaken. “Keto, vegan, raw, dairy-free, low-FODMAPS, gluten-free,” she said by way of greeting, her bright green eyes locking on to Paloma’s in an unsettling display of intense public relations training.
Song moved on to a curvaceous woman with icy white-blond hair hanging in a sheet to her waist, gray-blue eyes, and a constellation of freckles covering her entire face. Paloma thought the effect was quite striking. “And this is Runa. She has an entire brand and twenty million followers centered around makeup hacks, extreme contouring, and special effects. She’s originally from Iceland.”
Runa gave Paloma and Leigh a friendly wave, offered a smile and a short word of greeting in what Paloma assumed to be Icelandic. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said with a hint of an accent, then went back to whatever she had been looking at on her phone.
Song held up her own phone and took a selfie, then kept talking as she added a filter or two then tapped in a caption and a bunch of hashtags. “So anyway, Daisy was the winner of the poll. She’ll be the maid of honor. Runa was the second-place winner,” Song said, as if this made perfect sense.
“Excuse me? What poll?” Paloma asked, assuming there was no way it could be the type of poll it sounded like it was.
Leigh broke in and explained. “Song had a poll online to determine who should be in her wedding. It started with a nomination process, then like a March Madness kind of tournament, and eventually came down to the top two. It was very exciting. And these two were the winners. Not to mention they each carry millions of followers across their social media. They are all very influential.” Leigh gave Paloma a very direct and pointed stare as if to say: Don’t tick them off because they could ruin us with one clicky-click.
So it was exactly the kind of poll it sounded like, Paloma thought.
“So, when can we start?” Song asked. “I have so many thoughts and feelings. I just love weddings. Don’t you?” She turned her warm brown eyes to Leigh and then to Paloma.
“Well,” Paloma started. She glanced at Leigh who had a pleading look in her eyes. Paloma thought of what this type of publicity could do for the town, her own store, and the Old Maple Inn. It could propel the entirety of Fall Haven into the stratosphere of hip small-town destinations for influencers and followers all over the world. It would be a challenge, but Paloma was up for a challenge.
She offered Song a practiced smile. “Let’s get started.”
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