Well Played (Well Met #2)(31)

She nodded eagerly. “That would be awesome, thanks.” She peered at me a little closer, and I wondered if I had something on my face. “You really like doing Faire, huh?”

“Guilty,” I said with a smile. “I’ve been doing it since I was your age. Probably my favorite part of the summer.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s a whole lot else to do around here.” Her voice had a grumble in it, and I could see her point. Willow Creek wasn’t exactly a metropolis. I was about to turn back to my list again, but Caitlin wasn’t done. She tilted her head to look at me, looking so much like a younger version of her aunt Emily that I had to bite down on my smile. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Well . . .” I shrugged. “I mean, I’m helping more with wedding stuff than Faire stuff, but it’s kind of all hands on deck, you know? You should be careful; they’ll put you to work next.”

“Nope, I have to study,” she said cheerfully. “But I mean, is that why you haven’t left Willow Creek? Because you like doing Faire?”

“Oh.” I looked down at the papers in front of me. I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

“I mean, Mr. G and Coach Malone grew up here, but they teach at the high school. But, like, you could work in a dentist’s office anywhere, right? So did you stick around here to do Faire?”

“They have faires other places too, you know.” I hated how defensive I sounded. Why was I arguing with a teenager? I fought to not cross my arms over my chest. Instead I slapped my patented Stacey Smile back on my face. “But, yeah. Maybe I like this one.”

“And maybe you’re being rude, kiddo.” April appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. “You don’t just ask someone why they live where they do. Maybe it’s none of your business.”

Caitlin opened her mouth and then shut it again, her face reddening. “Sorry,” she mumbled, throwing a look in my direction.

“Hey, it’s cool.” My defensiveness faded. She was a kid. It was okay to ask questions. I picked up my pen again. “Let me know when you want help with those songs. I’ll teach you some of the ones you’re too young for, and you can sing ’em in the tavern when Simon isn’t looking.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes lit up.

“No,” April said from the doorway, in unison with Simon from the other end of the table. But Caitlin and I grinned at each other in solidarity, all awkwardness forgotten.

April shook her head and leaned against the doorjamb, swirling some red wine in her glass. “When am I getting my dining room back?”

On my left, Mitch shrugged and reached for another slice of pizza; he’d contributed dinner tonight, which meant takeout. “Well, Faire’s in July, and so’s the wedding, so . . .”

“July,” I chimed in, my attention back on the invitation list. Emily and April had been sending them out in their free time in groups of ten or fifteen, and someone needed to make sure none of the names had fallen through the cracks. And since I’d been the one to point that out, that someone had become me. It was going well, though; most of the invites had been sent out, and I could probably get the last of them addressed in the next few days. RSVPs were already starting to come back too, so that was my next task.

“July.” April sighed. “Great.” But when I looked up she dropped a quick wink at me, and I caught the ghost of a smile that she camouflaged with a sip of her wine.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Emily’s sigh was a more genuinely aggrieved echo of her sister’s. “Getting married at Faire seemed like a really good idea last fall, didn’t it?”

“Hey,” I said, “it’s still a great idea. The wedding is going to be fantastic.”

“I know.” Emily sighed. “Everything’s happening so fast now, though. All the prep, along with Faire rehearsals every weekend, and there’s still a lot to plan . . .”

“For the wedding or for Faire?” April asked.

“Yes.” Emily nodded. “Both.” Her eyes were wide, and her chin trembled a little. Oh, man, she wasn’t kidding around. She was overwhelmed. I’d never seen a problem that Emily couldn’t plan her way out of. This was serious.

I put down my pen and grasped her arm, getting her attention. “We’ll get it done,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

“We will,” April said. “And it’s all going to happen at my dining room table.”

“Oh, whatever.” Emily’s snark was coming back as she glanced up at her sister. “It’s not like you throw any dinner parties anyway.”

“I might.” April took another sip of wine, but her eyes laughed at us over the glass. I knew her well enough by now to know that our book clubs were as social as she got. Odds were good that she’d never thrown a party in this house, and wasn’t likely to do so anytime soon.

“You won’t.” Emily picked up her own glass of wine. “And that’s what you get for having the biggest dining room table.” She was back to joking around; she was going to be okay.

“Plus you’re a better cook than I am,” Mitch said.

April snorted. “I can see that, considering your contribution tonight.”