Still wrapped in plastic, costumes hang neatly on clothing racks in one corner. Opposite the explosion of muslin dresses, linen shirts, and buttoned waistcoats sits the pile of boxes I’m trying to organize. Usually, they’d be perfectly organized already, having packed them at the end of the last fair with the meticulous nature with which I do just about everything. Last year, in a moment of weakness, I let Emma and Callen help me. Neither of the two lovebirds wanted to leave the fairground, but they didn’t want to acknowledge their feelings for each other… yet.
There has to be some joke about their love continuing to make more work for me, but I’m too tired to think of what it could be.
Opening a box labeled “Bonnets,” I immediately find gloves, a fan, a roll of tickets, and a handful of our double-sided maps from last year that catalog the fairground on one side and Chawton Falls on the other,so much for guarding this box with my life.
The fair is a decent draw for foot traffic, and the local businesses have gotten involved to take advantage of it. The bookstore, Little Shop on the Square, will deck its window out with Jane Austen’s books. Anne’s Donuts has a Jamsfield Donut. Cup of Joe’s, a small café on Main St. serves Elizabeth Beignets with a caramel cappuccino dipping sauce that I would happily bathe in a vat of. And Emy’s toy store, Little Prints,gives a ten percent discount to anyone who presents a fair ticket stub at checkout.
“I just feel so inspired to get into shape when I look at this magazine,” she says, staring at a picture of some football player catching a ball in the nude while mindlessly feeding herself bites of my tourtière, meat pie that is more butter than meat.
“Mmm, inspiration, sure. I heard everyone in the magazine has at least two helpings of meat pie daily.” I swipe my hair out of my face. Today is hot for September, and my body isn’t used to it after the chill of the last few days. “So, was your offer to help me sincere? Or are you going to be a bodily obstacle?”
I dance around her with another box. I packed this one since it’s appropriately labeled, and its contents are organized. It’s full of hats for our military characters and gentlemen who don caps during the festival. I pull out a stove pipe top hat that Mr. Bingley will wring his hands on in a few days as he apologizes for being an “unmitigated and comprehensive ass” and sigh happily.
Even though it’s a lot of work, the fair is my favorite part of the year. For a few days, Chawton Falls, New Hampshire, becomes Chawton, Hampshire, where Jane wrote a good portion of her works. The first weekend, when the weather is typically better, we dedicate ourselves toPride and Prejudice,her most famous novel. Players will run around the fair, some as background characters, and others will act out scenes from the book on a tight timeline.
Dances, balls, and social conversations happen in the main house. Mr. Darcy proposes disastrously on a stage to Elizabeth outside. Lydia and Wickham make a big production of their escape, and fair-goers can choose to aid or interfere with Mr. Darcy’s frantic search. Usually, it becomes a giant search party that’s a ton of wild fun.
I need to keep the big picture in mind. It will all be worth it when we’re on the grounds. Even if it feels impossible.
“I’m sorry. I thought Iwasbeing helpful.” Emy flashes me a teasing smile. “Maybe the problem is that you misunderstood what I offered to help with.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t mean I’d help you with manual labor. I meant I’d help you realize your feelings for a certain troubled hockey player.”
She flips the page to the centerfold, and my cheeks heat. I’ve grown far too familiar with the contents of that page for my own sensibilities.
“I don’t understand why I’m friends with you sometimes.”
“My theory is that you Desfleurses are genetically programmed to love me, but your guess is as good as mine.” She shrugs. “But, seriously, Aulie. Look me in the eye and tell me you’ve never thought about Jack like that, and I’ll drop it.”
I swallow. Emy knows me too well to get anything past her. But I steel my nerves and try anyway. “I’ve honestly never thought about it,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.
She snorts. “Yeah, okay, liar.”
And I am. I’ve thought about Jack like that more than I’d care to admit over the years. First, when I was a pre-teen and he was the older, cooler guy who hung out with my brother.
And then, more recently, when at the lowest romantic point in my life, he rescued me from drowning in a fountain. Drenched, cold, and foolish, when the object of my childhood and teenage fantasies offered out his hand, everything inside of me screamed,to the hell with Tyle this is Jack and my moment. The one we’ll tell our grandkids about.
The blows of a failed engagement fell away that night as the man who used to treat me like an amusing child seemed interested in me as a matured, alluring woman, however fleeting the moment was.
I’d endure it all again so you could finally see me.I’d say those words out loud someday to my hoodied knight. I was so sure.
I was a fool.
Because Jack Parker is not a knight, at least not one that dons shining armor. He is a pirate, a rogue, a Wickham, or a Willoughby. Somebody that the foolish ladies in the romantic novels I read fall for, only to be left with a broken heart.
So it’s imperative for my safety that Jack stays where he belongs—the friend zone.
Not that it matters what I genuinely feel, anyway. I’m undoubtedly the antithesis of everything Jack seeks in his relationships, however temporary they usually are.
His last girlfriend, Veronica, all but confirms this with her raven-black hair, muscular physique, and chic wardrobe. My soft curves and cardigans would never stand a chance against someone like her.
Heck, the woman plays a demon slayer on television, and I’m still recovering from that one episode ofAre You Afraid of the Dark?I watched at a sleepover when I was nine.
Public pools? No, thank you. I still can’t think of them without shivering.
I’m a soft girl with a fragile heart and a penchant for falling wildly in love and fracturing into a thousand pieces when it’s over. A man like Jack would never find my wholesome personality and homebody tendencies appealing.
