She ambled further into the diner, hands clasped before her as she swept a smile across the restaurant. “Bluebell Cove hasn’t seen a summer storm this late in the year in decades. We’re dealing with an impossible situation.”
Murmurs rippled around the table as people nod. I strained to keep the frown from descending on my lips. What was she up to now?
“Well, it turns out my chauffeur here has the solution.” Janice turned and beamed at Rhett, who appeared more interested in one of the pink tiles beneath his boots. She hesitated just long enough to make me suspicious, then beamed. “Thanks to his connections in San Francisco, he knows someone who will be able to help us save the festival!”
Steadily, as if waking from a daze, they began to nod. The stifling tension was broken, relief washing over the features of everyone in the diner.
Meanwhile, my heart rapidly sank to my toes.
???
Later, I decided to walk past Marigold’s and check on the progress when I saw him. Rhett was pacing near his truck, phonepressed to his ear. His voice was low and urgent as he rubbed his neck and intermittently glanced at the sky.
“I’ll explain everything when I see you, okay?” A pause. Then, with a tenderness that I’d never heard before: “Claire.”
I froze and instinctively ducked behind a parked car a few spaces down.
Something hot coiled in my chest, sharp enough to sting. Not my business. Not my business. I turned, nearly tripping over the curb as I bolted the other way, face burning all the way home.
Chapter Thirteen
That evening, I hunched over a board at home while Margot lounged on the couch. My brush slipped, dragging a crooked streak of orange across my knuckles as the sign smeared and “Marigold’s” became indecipherable.
“They just waltzed in,” I muttered, “Dropped a line about some mysterious contact, and suddenly he’severyone’shero.”
Margot tapped her phone screen with a glossy red nail and snorted. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”
“I’m not.” My voice cracked. Did I want to break the sign over Rhett’s head? Maybe. Was I jealous? Hardly. “I’m…frustrated,” I finished.
“Yeah, I can tell.” She pointed at the paint dripping down my hand. “But denial doesn’t make things any less true.”
I set the brush down with a little too much force, orange splattering across the newspaper underneath. “You’re supposed to be helping. Not psychoanalyzing me.”
Margot smirked. “Hey, I’m multitasking. Besides, if you don’t admit it soon, you’re going to explode. And I, for one, donotwant to be in the blast radius.”
I groaned and tossed the brush into the rinse jar. “Remind me again why I volunteered for this?”
“You didn’t.” She flopped sideways on the couch, balancing her phone above her head. “You got volunteered. There’s a big difference.”
???
By the next morning, Captain’s had turned into a war zone.
Ruth’s upstairs office looked like someone detonated a confetti bomb of sticky notes, crumpled paper, and half-finished lattes. Margot was hunched over her laptop, vigorously swiping her stylus across her laptop, the Excel spreadsheet having burgeoned into a monster. Meanwhile, I fielded phone calls with a notebook wedged under my arm, scribbling in barely-legible handwriting.
“Right, yes, I understand your concern, Mrs. Henderson, but we can’t make a gluten-free funnel cake vendor materialize overnight.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Maybe you could—hello? Hello?” I squeezed my phone and tried not to scream.
Across the room, Margot muttered curses at her email. “Another vendor just backed out.”
“Which one?” My heart thudded.
“The popcorn guy’s worried about the weather. Says soggy popcorn will ruin his brand.” She rolled her eyes and jabbed her screen. “And now the woman who was supposed to do the shaved ice said her machine broke. Something about her nephew sticking a Lego in it?”
I pressed my palms to my eyes. “Will you make fun of me if I cry?”
“Just let me know when and I’ll turn around,” Margot deadpanned.
Before I could reply, the door creaked open. And—because, of course—Rhett filled the frame and leaned to one side. Two cups of coffee in hand and his hair dusted with sawdust, he hovered like he wasn’t sure he was welcome.
