Listening to him talk, I can’t really glean much about their relationship, or even what kind of person she was, but I know that doesn’t matter. He’s reliving those tiny moments with her as he tells me about them, and after an hour or two of talking, the lines of his shoulders seem a little looser.
“You’re a good girl,” he says, as I return from taking our teacups back into the kitchen. “Spending your Saturday with an old fella like me.”
“I’m happy to,” I say honestly. “I wish I could stay longer, but I’ve got my shift at the museum. I’m going to ask Shelley if I can throw that event I was telling you about.”
Jim lets out a breath. “Shelley,” he says, with a dismissive shakeof his head. “I don’t have much to do with her. You know she tried to stop me working there after Josephine died? She said the place didn’t need security.”
“You’re kidding,” I say indignantly. What sort of person tries to fire a ninety-six-year-old volunteer? “What did you do?”
Jim shrugs. “I kept showing up anyway.”
I giggle. “That’s amazing.”
“If you want to throw your party, just do it. Don’t pay that woman any mind.”
I smile. “Thanks, Jim. See you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here.”
I wave goodbye to Ghost and Epona and head to the museum, practicing my argument for Shelley as I drive. I’m going to put all the food on my credit card, so it isn’t going to cost her anything, and Trey and I will handle everything the day of the event. I’m not sure why she would say no—and yet I have a sneaking feeling that she’s going to.
The morning volunteer, a nice older woman named Brenda, is struggling to use the credit card machine when I arrive. I help her sort it out and resolve to make a cheat sheet for her for the future. She agrees to watch the desk an extra five minutes while I go talk to Shelley. My palms are a bit prickly with nerves. I rub them on my jeans and then knock on her office door.
“What?” she calls.
I open the door. Soup is dripping from her spoon onto her desk as she scrolls through Facebook on her computer, and there’s a crumpled fast food container on the floor. I swallow down a spike of annoyance. Her office could actually be really cute, if she made any attempt to keep it clean. There’s a big window overlookingthe backyard and a bookshelf on either side of the desk, giving the place a cozy, reading nook kind of vibe.
“Hi, Shelley,” I say politely. “Do you have a minute?”
She glances up. “What’s up?”
I take a breath and launch in. “I was thinking it would be fun to host an event here next weekend, to celebrate the start of summer and maybe draw in a little extra business.”
“We don’t have money for that,” Shelley says, half-turning back to her computer.
“No, I know,” I say hastily. “But I’ve got it all planned out so it wouldn’t cost a thing. There’s a local musician who can play for free, and Trey’s got a barbecue we can use, so we can sell hot dogs and hamburgers and lemonade—”
“I don’t have time to plan something like that.”
“You wouldn’t have to do anything,” I say. “I can plan it all. You could just—show up and enjoy!”
Shelley lets out an impatient breath and glances back at her computer, like I’m keeping her from some important work. “When did you want to do this?”
“I was thinking next Saturday. The weather is supposed to be really nice, and it’ll be a week before the kids get out of school, so I was thinking we could call it the Barrel Into Summer event.” I force a cheery smile. “Kind of a cute name, right?”
Shelley scowls. “A week isn’t enough time to plan something like that.”
She’s turning away again. Her tone is final.
“I think it’s a good idea,” says a voice from the door. I glance back to see Trey leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
Shelley’s lips press together. Her eyes move between Trey andme, as though she’s weighing whether or not it’s worth arguing with us.
“Oh, fine,” she says ungraciously. “But you two have got to sort it out yourselves. I’ve got too much on my plate already.”
Too much on herplate? What, is she trying to scroll through the entirety of Facebook or something?
But, whatever. She said yes. That’s all that matters.
