Well Matched (Well Met #3)(58)

Before I knew it there was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned my head to see a man I didn’t know, but he was wearing a red volunteer shirt like I was.

“April, right? I’m Mike. Your replacement.”

“What? It’s one already?” I checked my phone in confusion. How had I already been here four hours?

“Yep.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You’re free.”

I relinquished my seat and Nancy waved goodbye. “You should walk around a little before you go,” she said. “Take in the festival.”

“You sure you don’t need a break?” It seemed odd that I had a four-hour shift while Nancy was here for the entire day. She was easily my mother’s age—wouldn’t this wear her out? But she waved me off with a laugh.

“I’ve been doing this since the start. Best part of my year, seeing everyone come in. You go on now.”

I wasn’t going to argue. Besides, now that I’d gotten up my stomach growled, and there was plenty of unhealthy Faire food inside. I followed the other attendees who had arrived down the path under a canopy of trees festooned with colored banners. I caught a flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye, so I turned in that direction, heading for a small stage set up in an alcove. A group of girls in yellow dresses were on the stage, singing in beautiful a cappella harmony, and my heart swelled because there in the middle of the group was my girl. Caitlin was easily the tallest so she was in the back of the group, but my mother’s ears could pick out her voice in the harmonies. I leaned against a tree, not too close. I didn’t want her to see me. The last thing I wanted to do was distract her.

Once they’d finished singing and hopped down from the stage, her eyes caught mine and flew wide. She said something to the girl beside her before taking off toward me, skirts flying, enthusiasm making her seem so much younger.

“Mom!” She shut her mouth with a giggle, and when she spoke again it was in an exaggerated English accent. “Honored Mother! I did not expect you! What a pleasure it is to see you on this fine day!” She gave me a deep curtsy, her mannerisms that of a woman instead of that giggling girl, but when she stood up again her eyes still danced with merriment.

Oh, God. I was not doing this. I was not doing the whole accent thing. And I didn’t have to, since I wasn’t in costume. “Oh yeah,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could. “I’m helping out this summer. I must have forgotten to tell you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I think not,” she said, accent still in place. She was good. “I believe you failed to tell me on purpose, so that you might surprise me.”

“You’re probably right.” I gave her some unenthusiastic jazz hands. “Surprise.” Having a conversation like this was unsettling, like I was speaking one language and she was speaking another. But the hell with it.

Caitlin laughed again, and even her laugh was in character. I was impressed. “It’s a wonderful surprise. Do Captain Blackthorne and Emma know that you are here? You should find them as well.”

“Captain . . .” I shook my head but then the penny dropped. Simon and Emily. Of course. I knew he was a pirate, but I’d forgotten his character name. “Do you know where they are?”

She shook her head. “Emma is often at the Chaucer Stage, where the Shakespeare scenes are acted. And of course the Captain participates in the human chess match at two of the clock. She often cheers him on then. But at this moment I know not where they are.”

“Great, okay.” I looked down the path that went through the middle of the Faire. I could probably just walk around for a bit, find something to eat, and catch my sister at the chess match thing. I turned back to Caitlin. “Would it be too out of character to give your mom a hug?”

Caitlin blinked quickly, shaking her head. My arms closed around her and she squeezed me tight. “You sounded great,” I whispered.

“Thanks, Mom,” she whispered back in her normal voice. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I’m here all four weekends,” I said as we parted. “I’ll see you around.”

Caitlin dipped into another curtsy, back in character. “Enjoy your day, madam!”

I wasn’t going to curtsy back in jeans, so I just waved as I set off down the path.



* * *



? ? ?

“Never again in jeans,” I said to myself a few minutes later. Maryland in the middle of July was hot as hell, and wearing jeans outside all day was probably the definition of insanity. The heavy, confining denim stuck to my thighs, and I was starting not to care about the scar on my leg. Vanity was one thing, but there was also the very real possibility of dying of heatstroke here. I would never doubt Nancy again.

I distracted myself with a frozen lemonade purchased from a fellow volunteer at a small kiosk, and while I fought the brain freeze I wandered the lanes of the Faire, admiring handmade jewelry and leather goods. Before long I heard the thumping sound of a hand drum in the distance, and I followed the sound. I knew that drum and the music it accompanied.

Before long I’d arrived at the Marlowe Stage, where a show had just begun. A trio of kilted musicians were playing a set of slightly naughty drinking songs and Irish standards. I tossed my empty lemonade cup in a nearby trash can and entered the glade where the Dueling Kilts were about midway through their set. But I didn’t take a seat at one of the long benches meant for the audience. Instead I skirted around the back of the crowd, to a tall, slender man wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, his red hair mostly eclipsed by a backwards-facing baseball cap (black, natch). His face lit up when he saw me.