“How was last night?” I replied, hugging my sweater against my torso. “Everything ready for the pie contest this afternoon?” My stomach grumbled at the thought.
“Well, yes, but I—” Mrs. Henderson glanced up and down the sidewalk as if we had spies. “I had an idea that I’d like to discuss with you.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you see the forecast?”
A little anticlimactic.
“Yes,” I replied, an amused smile forming on my lips. Leave it to Mrs. Henderson to be overly cryptic and theatrical.
“Well?” she hissed impatiently.
I blinked at her.
Mrs. Henderson groaned at the sky and threw her hands in the air. “The festival, girl! We can have the festival on Main Street!”
I stared for a moment as the words sunk in. All morning, I’d been so preoccupied with worry about the storm that I hadn’t even put two and two together. Businesses safe, homes intact, clear skies on the horizon—the Summer’s End Festival could return to where it truly belonged: the heart of Bluebell Cove.
A wide, cheek-splitting smile landed on my face. Without thinking, I grabbed her shoulders and yanked her into a hug, that same, unintelligible noise of glee falling from my mouth.
“Alright, alright!” She huffed, patting my back.
I was practically jumping in place when I pulled away. “Mrs. Henderson, you might just be my new favorite person!”
She harumphed in response, but I could see the corners of her lips curl upward.
It took me a few more seconds to calm down and stand in one place. “Okay,” I said, clapping my hands together in an attempt to look serious. “Do you think you can get everything moved and ready to go in the town plaza by the afternoon?”
Mrs. Henderson straightened and nodded like a soldier. “It will be the best pie contest to date.”
For some reason, I believed her.
When I surged down the street toward the Morning Bell, there was a renewed pep in my step. I had already been thrilled that the storm subsided a day early—thisnews felt like a bolt of lightning in my chest. It didn’t matter that Claire had hundred-dollar tickets or black tie attire or the Governor in attendance.
We had everything that mattered.
Rachel and Cameron were busy removing the boards from the cafe’s windows when I skipped up behind them.
“Hey!” I nearly shouted.
“Oh my—” Rachel grabbed the wall and wobbled on her ladder. “Don’t sneak up on someone while they’re on aladder, Georgie.”
Cameron sent me an uninterested wave as he carried the boards inside, apparently already moved on to Claire.
“Come here for some coffee before the meeting?” she asked, climbing down and folding it under her arm.
“Well, actually…”
I divulged everything to her. The new weather forecast, Mrs. Henderson’s idea, and the mildly ludicrous plan to move an entire event with only a handful of hours to go. By the time I finished, we were in the cafe, and she was handing me a hot mocha.
Rachel didn’t respond at first. A pit formed in my stomach as she gathered half her short hair into a bun on top of her head and rolled up her sweater’s sleeves. She untied her apron from her overalls and tossed it on the counter.
“Cameron!” she hollered.
I took a sip of my drink, unsure of what else to do, as the tall boy appeared from behind the curtain.
Rachel pulled the marker from behind her ear and set it down. “I’m taking a sick day.”
