Well Met(38)

Stacey nodded along with him, but I wasn’t going to take this criticism lying down. My feet hurt too much to not defend myself.

“I’d love to.” I gave Stacey’s laces a couple more good tugs and she was free. Then I gave Simon my full attention. “I’d absolutely love to spend more time talking to people, interacting, all of that. But instead I’m working my ass off for this Faire.” Hands on my hips, I marched over to Simon until we were practically nose to nose. It was my turn to be in his personal space. “You were in here this afternoon. You saw how busy we were, right?” I barely gave him time to respond before I kept going. “You’ve got three people here, trying to do the work of at least six. There’s no way you can expect us to sell drinks at the volume we’re working here and be interactive at the same time. Unless you’ve got a cloning machine somewhere I don’t know about.”

My heart pounded against the walls of my bodice as I finished speaking, and I found myself wishing I’d taken it off completely before I’d lit into Simon. Loosened or not, I was a little light-headed from ripping him a new one.

He opened his mouth, closed it again. He looked from me to Stacey, then over to Jamie, who had locked up the cashbox and was leaving to take it up front, completely unconcerned about the costume drama happening in front of him. “See you next week,” Jamie said with a little wave, rubbing in the fact that none of this shit concerned him. I envied him. Could we trade places? Could I wrangle him into a corset next week and take his red T-shirt? Probably not.

The three of us watched him walk away, then turned back to each other. But the moment had passed.

“Are we done?” Now the fight had gone out of me, leaving exhaustion in its wake. My feet were killing me from standing all day, and I wanted to go home. I wanted a shower, and I wanted my bed.

Simon wasn’t looking at me. He was looking around the tavern as though he’d never seen the place before. “Yeah,” he finally said. He rubbed the back of his neck, then ran a hand down one bristled cheek. “Yeah,” he said again. “We’re done.”

“Good.” Now that I wasn’t actively angry at him, I could see he looked as tired as I felt. Of course he was—he’d spent the day performing, and he was also one of the point people for the whole event. Most of the Faire’s success or failure rested directly on him. It was a heavy burden.

But he didn’t have to carry it alone. I wasn’t about to suggest anything to his face, because he’d probably shoot down any idea I had. But that didn’t mean I was going to sit on my hands, either.

I turned to Stacey. “We’ll get this figured out, okay? I promise, you’re not going to miss pub sing for the entire summer.” She gave me a tired smile in response, and that was good enough for me. “I have to go find Caitlin, but I’ll think about it this week and figure out what we need to do better. I’ll text you, okay?”

As I headed back to the Hollow to collect my niece, I wondered how this had happened. Of the three of us standing there in that tavern, I was the youngest. I was the stranger in town, and I was the newbie to the Faire. Yet somehow making the tavern run smoothly had fallen on my shoulders.

But I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t feel a thrill in my chest at the prospect. Simon was overworked, and Stacey seemed to be in over her head. But me . . . my shoulders were made for this kind of thing. This was how I could contribute to the Faire, even more than wearing a spleen-squeezing costume and serving beer. I could do this, and maybe then I’d belong in Willow Creek too.





Ten




After a handful of Advil for dinner and a good night’s sleep, I felt a lot more human by the time I met Chris at the bookstore on Monday morning. While I could walk without limping, I was still exhausted from two days of being outside in the woods and on my feet all day. But she had asked me to come to the shop on Monday, the day it was usually closed, so I figured she wouldn’t say that unless she was serious. I arrived at ten in the morning with my trusty travel mug of coffee. When I got there she was just unlocking the front door.

“How do you stay open during Faire weekends?” It hadn’t occurred to me until just now that she probably couldn’t be in two places at once.

“My daughter’s home from college for the summer. Nicole keeps the place running on the weekends so I can be Queen.”

I followed her in, the bell over the door chiming in our wake. “That’s a very understanding daughter.”

Chris chuckled and flipped on some of the lights, enough that we could see, but not enough to signal that the store was open. “She has her moments.” She put her purse down on the front counter and turned to me. “So let’s get back to what you were saying the other day. About turning the back of the shop into a café?”

“Okay.” I couldn’t help the smile that came over my face. I was ready for this. “I have so many ideas.”

I outlined them to her. A couple tables. Some cozy, comfy chairs designed to let people linger. An employee to man the counter and help in the store itself if the café wasn’t busy. Start a book club to meet once a month, maybe a writers’ group too. Maybe even a small menu: chicken salad, cheese and fruit plates. Simple food that wouldn’t be a chore to make every day, and then she could still be creative with whatever desserts she felt like providing.