Well Met(29)

“Well . . .” I opened my mouth, closed it again. “Yeah.” I peered closer at the cards on the table. “That’s from Mom. You stole my birthday card from Mom out of the mailbox?”

“It was part of the surprise!” Caitlin said.

April clucked her tongue. “Sorry. That was my idea. We didn’t get you a lot for your birthday, so I wanted the table to look as full as possible.”

I tried to glare at her, but it turned into a teary laugh instead as she pulled me into a hug. The second one that day. “Remember what I said about appreciating you? I meant it.” While I was surprised at this new show of affection, I went with it. It felt nice. Like I had a real big sister.

“Come on, Em! Blow out the candles so we can eat!”

I laughed and dashed away the tears that had gathered in the corners of my eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.” I bent over the small round cake, letting the flames dazzle my eyes as I contemplated a wish. I wanted a home. I wanted a place where I could build a life. And someday, I wanted someone who would love me. Not for what I could do for them, but for who I was to them. Seemed like a lot to wish for at once, but it was my birthday. Birthday wishes were allowed to be lofty. I blew out the candles and let those wishes fly away with the wisps of smoke. The ones that were meant to be would come back.

“Were you surprised?” Caitlin flipped open the pizza box and started tearing off slices, distributing them onto plates.

“I was.” I took a bite of pizza. “Though the balloon on the mailbox made me wonder what was up.”

April shook her head. “Yeah, maybe leave that off next time.”

“Ugh.” Caitlin gave a dramatic face-palm. “I was trying to be festive.”

“You did a great job.” I gestured around the room. “This is festive as hell.”

“Oh, did you pick up my dress? For Faire?”

“Yes. Whoops, I left it in the back of the Jeep. You can go grab it after dinner. After you wash your hands.” I looked pointedly at Caitlin, and she licked pizza sauce off her fingers and nudged her crust to the edge of her plate before grinning at me.

“I’m so excited! Faire is going to be so much fun.”

“Are you two all ready for it?” April asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Costumes are all set, accent’s as good as it’s going to get at this point.” I reached for a second slice of pizza, because I had two more days until I was getting laced into a tight bodice. “Should be a fun rest of the summer.”

I always had been good at understatements.





Seven




Saturday morning in mid-July. Opening day of the Willow Creek Renaissance Faire. Caitlin and I were ready. We weren’t fully awake, but we were ready.

We hit the road at oh-dark-thirty while I sipped my second cup of coffee from my travel mug. I was dressed in the absolute minimum—my loose chemise/nightgown and a pair of spandex shorts—while Cait sat bleary-eyed in the back. Her costume rode shotgun next to me in a garment bag, in an effort to keep it wrinkle free for as long as possible.

I felt more human once I pulled into the field designated as cast parking and grabbed the wicker basket containing the rest of my costume. Cait trooped behind me like a sleepy kitten, but the morning air was good for the both of us. I wasn’t scared of these woods any longer, and by the time we got to the Hollow, that backstage cast area set at the bottom of some hills, my coffee had kicked in and Cait had run ahead to meet her friends. Pretty much back to normal.

I let her go—she had all her stuff, and could get dressed on her own time—and started getting ready myself. Since I’d driven there wearing basically my Renaissance faire undies, I dumped the rest of my outfit on an outdoor table and started covering myself in the layers that composed my wench costume.

Hose first—basically long socks that went up over my knees. I pulled the blue skirt on over my head and swam through the fabric until I got it settled around my waist. I tugged the white underdress down, then put on my boots. Boots first, then corset—that was the most basic costuming rule for a Renaissance faire player. All that was left was the bodice. I set it aside: not yet. Instead, I opened up my compact and did a quick eyeliner job, followed by a berry-colored lip stain—a natural enough shade even Simon couldn’t argue with. While I tugged my hair back into an artfully artless knot, I watched the sun come up through the trees around us and soaked in the sounds of teenage chatter around me. At the next table, Chris sat patiently while the head dancer braided her hair into an elaborate, queen-appropriate coif. She winked at me and waved hello, careful not to move her head too much.

I spent so much time on my hair that I still hadn’t put on my bodice when the morning’s briefing started. Like we had during the rehearsal process, we took attendance every morning and had a quick meeting. Last-minute instructions, schedule changes, that kind of thing. I looked around while lacing Stacey into her corset and wow, we looked like a professional operation. Costumes were all on point, down to hairstyles and hats. People I didn’t know lingered on the edge of the meeting, but since no one else seemed alarmed I decided not to be, either. They must be the talent. Musicians and other touring acts had been booked by the Faire (well, by Simon and Chris) to play with us and for us for the next few weeks. Most stayed only a weekend or two at a time, so the briefings would also let us know who was playing at what stages.