Well Met(39)

The more I talked, the more and more excited she looked. “Amazing,” she said. “It’s like you read my mind. That’s exactly the kind of thing I wanted to do a few years back, but it seemed so overwhelming to do it on my own.”

“You’re not on your own now,” I said. “You’ve got me through the end of the summer. What can I do?”

I’d always thought her smile was kind and genuine, but when it was aimed directly at me it warmed my soul. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess there’s no time like the present.” Before the words were out of her mouth she was halfway to the back room, and she returned a few moments later, juggling a handful of empty boxes. “There are more back there. Grab ’em and let’s get started.”

I knew better than to argue with the Queen.

My sore muscles groaned, but I did my best to throw myself into packing books into boxes and moving bookcases around. I couldn’t believe how sore Chris didn’t look by comparison. But then again, she was used to those weekends in the woods. Maybe in a few years I wouldn’t be praying for death at the end of each weekend . . . that thought stopped me short. A few years? What was I thinking? I was only here for a few more weeks. Once Faire was over, I needed to start thinking about moving on with my own life. But that prospect gave me heart palpitations, so I concentrated on what was in front of me: hauling around bookcases with an ersatz Queen Elizabeth.

“How do we get the word out about a book club?” With her hands on her hips Chris surveyed the space we’d cleared out, but obviously she could think about more than one thing at a time.

“Oh, that’s easy. We’ll announce it on your social media pages. Create an event. Then post links to it in some strategic places . . .” My voice trailed off as she shook her head with a blank expression, and I bit back a sigh. “You don’t have any social media pages, do you?” Now it was my turn to put my hands on my hips. “You have a website, at least? Right?”

“Sure. For online orders and such. But it’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone anyway. So I always figured, what’s the point of all that social media stuff?”

I inhaled through my nose, very slowly. “For starters, that’s how you tell everyone about a book club.” That came out a little snippier than I’d intended, but thankfully she laughed to concede my point. No big deal. I’d get those pages set up for her too.

At lunchtime we took a break to order some sandwiches from the deli down the street. By then, the space we had cleared out was huge. Maybe too huge.

“We can put some of these bookcases back, you know.” I bit into my Reuben and closed my eyes in bliss. The guy down the street knew how to make a sandwich. “You don’t need to keep this space completely empty.”

She considered from her spot, cross-legged on the floor. I envied her. She was old enough to be my mother, but if I tried getting down on the floor like that I didn’t think I’d get up again.

“No, but you don’t want to hem people in, either. They should feel welcome to hang out, not feel claustrophobic.” She gestured toward the front. “Those windows up front are so big and let in so much light, but the bookcases blocked all the light from coming back here. See how much more open it looks now?”

I had to admit, she had a point. “Just as long as you still have somewhere to keep your inventory. I mean, this is a bookstore.”

“We could get some shorter ones, maybe bar height? Then they could serve a dual purpose.”

“Now you’re talking.” I popped the last of my sandwich in my mouth and crumpled up the waxed paper it had come in.

“Speaking of bars, I meant to ask. How are you enjoying Faire so far?”

I groaned as I got to my feet. “I’m not sure if ‘enjoying’ is the word I would use.” While I practically did a backbend to stretch out my back, I filled her in on the craziness of the past couple days, how I’d been run off my feet to the point of pain.

Her brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound right. You should be able to take breaks, walk around. See some of the shows and enjoy yourself.”

“Stacey said that too, but I don’t see how it’s possible. I barely had time to eat something.” Indeed, I had never wolfed down chicken fingers so fast as I had the previous day.

We moved over to a bookcase we’d emptied and together we started moving it toward the side of the shop. Without the books in it, the bookcase was . . . well, it was still heavy as hell, but the two of us were able to manage.

But Chris’s mind was still on Faire. “I don’t like the idea of you being worked to death like that. I mean, you’re a volunteer. Hell, we’re all volunteers. We do this because we enjoy it, you know? I wonder if Stacey . . . wait.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s just you and Stacey, right? Two wenches this year?” She smiled in triumph. “Well, there you go. Last year there were four.”

I blinked. “Four?”

“Four. So you and Stacey are doing double the work of last year. No wonder you’re frantic. You need more staff at the bar.”

“Four.” I shook my head in wonderment. So when I’d told Simon—well, bitched at Simon—we’d been doing the work of six people, I hadn’t been far off. Go, me. “How did Stacey not notice this? Doesn’t she do this every year?”