Bertie strode across the stage. She lifted the microphone from the stand and thumbed it on.
“Hello, everyone. Welcome to Ordinary’s first High Tea Tide. I am so happy to see you all here on this beautiful day.” She smiled, and it was softer than usual, kind.
She really did love these things, and I was glad for it. There was something satisfying in seeing people find their place in this oddball little town. Bertie had not only found her place, she’d thrived in it. In doing so, she had made our community better.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed the amazing teas and treats brought to us by all the vendors. Let’s give them a hand.” She led the applause. Everyone joined in.
I leaned toward Myra. “Where are the judges?”
“Shh.”
“This festival, like so many others, would not be possible without our amazing volunteers.” She clapped, and everyone followed suit, looking around for the suckers. Several people lifted their hands to acknowledge they had survived said volunteering.
“I’d also like to take a moment to give thanks to our law enforcement. When a small town hosts large gatherings, it is an extra task of safety brought upon our officers’ shoulders. A task they handle with aplomb and humor. Please join me in thanking Chief Delaney Reed and her officers.” Bertie clapped. Jean, Myra, and I all waved but I couldn’t see Hatter or Shoe in the crowd.
“Delaney Reed, everyone,” she said. The applause raised for a moment. I waved and smiled some more, then the crowd quieted, turning their attention back to Bertie.
“Oh, crap,” Jean said. Her hand pressed against her breastbone. “Something.”
“Doom twinge?” I asked, glancing around the crowd for whatever disaster she had sensed.
“No, not exactly. Not…no.” She narrowed her eyes. “I think something, though.”
“I need a little more than that, Jean,” I said. “Is something dangerous about to happen?”
Myra grabbed my arm. “Beach. Now.”
Since her gift was always being in the right place at the right time, I let her drag me through the crowd, Jean, Bathin, and Hogan right behind us.
Once clear of people, Myra kept on walking, down several blocks toward the ocean. “You can let go of my arm,” I said. “Myra. Mymy. Let go. I’m with you.”
She glanced at me, as if just noticing I was still there, then nodded. “You have to be there. Promise me. Whatever this is about, I know you have to be there.”
“Couldn’t keep me away with a ten-foot club,” I said.
“Beach, right?” Jean said. “I mean…uh…I think that way? Down the stairs?”
That way was one of the public beach accesses that jagged back and forth down and down to the beach below. Here, the grassy hill on either side blocked much of the view both up and down the beach.
Once we hit the sand, we wouldn’t be able to see what was coming. It was a great place for an ambush.
“Move,” I said to Myra, pushing her behind me.
“You don’t have to— Fine.” She let me pass. I was wishing I had my gun on me. Damn Bertie and her fancy dress. Damn Cheryl and her perfect salesmanship. Damn this town for choosing this one moment, on this one perfect day to screw everything up.
But then, it wouldn’t be Ordinary if something ridiculous didn’t happen right in the middle of another ridiculous event.
I patted my pocket. Nothing but the phone and the letter I still hadn’t given to Bathin.
“Here,” I said, shoving the letter at Myra, who glanced at the name on the envelope and handed it over her shoulder to Bathin.
“Who’s it from?” she asked.
“I don’t know. A god, probably. I picked it up at the casino Thursday.”
Thursday seemed like forever ago. As my boots clomped a steady beat down the stairs, everything that had happened since Thursday rolled through my mind.
Ryder making breakfast, Ryder leaving quietly in the mornings, coming back quietly in the night. The stolen Heartwood, the missing Feather. Than’s planting room, all the mistakes carefully cared for, and maybe not really mistakes at all.
