Well Matched (Well Met #3)(62)

I sure as hell didn’t.



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? ? ?

Yeah. That resolution got me through that first weekend and no more. But in my defense, what happened next wasn’t my fault.

I got to the Faire early in the morning on my second weekend as a box office volunteer with a to-do list in my head. After I was done here, I was going to hit the grocery store on the way home so I could relax that evening. Get my shower before Caitlin came home so she could clean up after a long day of Faire. Then I’d go to bed early, maybe read a book before going to sleep and doing it all again on Sunday.

It was a good plan. And it was shot to hell by about ten thirty.

Nancy was right—working the box office was probably the best people-watching spot at the whole Faire. Everyone was bright-eyed and energetic when they first arrived. Costumes were fresh and perfect, not yet marred by the dust of the lanes of the Faire and the sweat that came from the inevitable heat of the day. Patrons were excited to be there, and went through the gates like kids on Christmas morning. People met up in front of our booth and greeted one another with hugs and cheers. There were lots and lots of cries of Huzzah! to the point that I now understood those times that Emily or Caitlin slipped the word into a regular conversation.

But there was that weird feeling of separation again. For all the “thank you, miladys” that I was given when I collected their admission fees or scanned their tickets, it was like speaking to someone from another world. A world I had no desire to be part of, so why was this bothering me?

The next group was a family: a mom and dad with two almost school-age children. The boy was dressed as a pirate with a big black hat and a plastic sword, while his younger sister was a princess. Meanwhile, Mom wore a comfortable-looking sundress and Dad wore a camera around his neck over his polo shirt. The miniature pirate insisted on paying, waving the bills that his father had handed him. I slid off my stool and came around to the front of our makeshift building, squatting down to the diminutive pirate’s level.

“Thank you, kind sir.” I didn’t put on an accent, but I figured this little guy deserved some playacting in return. I handed him his change and the tickets for his family, and he turned back to his dad in triumph. I smiled up at the family. “Enjoy your day.” I’d said that about a bazillion times so far this weekend, and I’d be saying it three bazillion times more.

“April?”

The voice was unfamiliar, and as I straightened up from my crouch I wondered if it was me they were talking to. Probably not. April wasn’t that uncommon a name, after all . . .

“April! Hey!”

Then I focused on the next group in line to buy tickets.

“Lulu.” My voice was weak with surprise. Because in front of me was Mitch’s cousin Lulu. Even worse, with her were two elderly people, smiling at me in recognition. Mitch’s grandparents.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malone,” I said. “Hi.”

Shit.



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? ? ?

Lulu was a hugger; I’d forgotten that about her. But the memory came back as she threw her arms around me like I was a long-lost friend, instead of the pretend girlfriend of her cousin that she’d met one time a few weeks ago. I was a little startled but I went with it, patting her on the back before she let go.

“This is great! I didn’t know you’d be here too!” Lulu was the picture of cool casualness. Her hair was caught back in a ponytail, poking out the back of a tie-dyed trucker hat that would look absurd on anyone who wasn’t her. She made it work along with a summery sundress and high-top sneakers. Practical for this kind of day: sandals were hell out here in the woods, according to both Emily and Stacey.

“It’s so good to see you,” I lied, directing my attention to both Lulu and her grandparents, people I had never expected to see again.

“Well, that’s convenient, since we’re here because of you,” Lulu said with a smile.

“What?” I had no idea how to respond to that, so I settled for blinking dumbly.

Grandma Malone’s smile was probably warmer than I deserved. “You said we should see Mitch in action, didn’t you?”

“Oh. I did, didn’t I? That’s . . . that’s great!” I tried to inject some enthusiasm into my voice, but my mind was whirling too fast to settle on anything coherent. “I’m sure Mitch left tickets for you here to pick up, right?” I darted back to the safety of my little booth, trying to put as much distance between us as I could. As if that would help to calm my racing heart.

“Oh. No,” Grandma Malone said as Grandpa Malone took out his wallet. “He doesn’t know we’re here.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, and my responding lean was involuntary. “We thought we’d surprise him.”

“That’s great,” I said again, because my conversation skills had gone entirely to shit. But I rallied enough to wave at the money Mitch’s grandfather extended toward me. “Put that away. I’m sure Mitch has comp tickets left. And if he doesn’t, I do.” I reached for the stapled stack of papers that listed all of the cast and volunteers along with the free tickets that had been issued in their name.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?” Grandma asked. “Is your boyfriend giving out tickets behind your back?”