Andie crossed her arms. “What would you have done if I said no?”

He flipped the card over to reveal a crowd of crying stick people, tears spraying from their sad faces.

Laughing, Andie stepped forward, rewarding Curt’s efforts with a kiss. Mission successful, he collected his poster boards and retreated from the kitchen.

“Well, that was charming.” Kat turned to Andie, a smug grin on her face. “Care to revise your earlier statement?”

“Being someone’s plus-one at a wedding is not planning my own wedding to that someone,” Andie rambled defensively. “Besides, come on. It’s Curt.”

Julia exchanged a knowing look with Kat. She wondered if her friends did that to her as well—shared glances when they thought she wasn’t looking—acknowledged awareness of the things she was trying to hide from them. Things she was trying to hide from herself.

“Was that your special activity?” Julia asked, skating away from the thin ice of her thoughts.

“The Love Actually stunt Curt just pulled?” Andie shook her head. “Nah.”

“Then what is it?” Kat wondered.

“I’m keeping it a secret.”

“Why?” Kat wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a birthday wish. Telling us won’t jeopardize your chances of it happening.”

“Maybe she’s embarrassed about what it is,” Julia teased.

“Absolutely not,” Andie declared. “I happily own my fantasies … I just don’t feel like jinxing things by talking about it.” Andie’s gaze drifted to the cookie sheet. “Besides,” she said, dark eyes glinting with humor as she poked at a doughy mound, “I’m spending my afternoon baking edible penises and just had a guy ask me out using flash cards. Do you really think I’m worried about being embarrassed?”

A commotion on the other side of the kitchen drew their attention. The resort owner, followed by her four-legged entourage, was making her way around the room, inspecting the cookies at each table.

“That has to be a violation of some kind,” Julia muttered.

“Her outfit?” Kat’s eyes widened as she took in the woman’s ensemble. “I know. What would you call that color? Orange?”

“I was referring to having dogs in the kitchen, but yes, the dress is also a crime.” Julia turned and watched as the woman moved closer. She considered the garishly bright dress, matched with a flowing shawl in the same shade of … “Tangerine, maybe?”

“I was thinking apricot,” Andie mused. “Or cantaloupe.”

“Well, it’s some kind of fruit,” Kat whispered as the dress in question, and the woman wearing it, arrived at their prep table.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Mrs. Weatherfork greeted them grandly.

“Good afternoon.” For some reason, Julia always had the urge to bow or curtsy or something around the eccentric woman.