“How’s fixing up the old Barnes farmstead?” the counter lady asked as she readied a large Styrofoam cup and lid.
“It’s fine.” I ran my tongue along my teeth, pushing the mint around, already not impressed with this conversation.
“They always did have issues with their water.” Her head dipped in a confirming bob. “Had to haul the drinking stuff from town.”
I pressed my lips together. The only thing I hated more than small talk wasnoseysmall talk.
“Course,” the counter lady went on, “that’s what you get for not building a basement in this part of the country. You’re justasking for frozen—” The pot gurgled a tad forcefully, drawing her attention back to it. “Oh, it’s done.” She grabbed the pot and poured the piping hot coffee into the cup. While she was adding the lid, she tacked on, “You know, if you need any help in the fields, Tilly Wagner has a whole slew of young boys who are strong. She’s always needing some extra money, with her husband running off and all—”
“Thank you.” I took the cup out of her hand and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the counter. I didn’t have the stomach for gossip. Never was one for small talk. I’d also learned the hard way that those that gossip with you, will surely end up gossiping about you.
“Did you see them setting up for the Fall Festival? It should be starting any moment.” The counter lady quickly switched conversations as she grabbed my money and punched numbers into the cash register. Without telling me a total, she dropped change into my hand. “The king hosts a festival every year in the town square, and everyone is invited.”
Grimacing, I tried not to complain, but I already knew about the festival. When I closed on my plot of land, King D’Long personally welcomed me to town and invited me to join them. Normally, I’d never go to anything like that. I hated crowds. My anxiety couldn’t handle them.
The catch was . . . I still had my eye on two more plots of the king’s land. He said they weren’t for sale. I hoped to make a good impression and get him to change his mind. Which meant, if the king asked me to come to his festival—and he had—I had to at least make an appearance.
Maybe I’d get lucky and get a chance to talk to him about the land? If not, I could always duck out early. I shoved my change into my pocket, tipped my hat toward the lady, and left.
With coffee in hand, I stepped back out on the sidewalk and headed down the street to the hardware store. Just as I thought,they didn’t have what I needed, but I got it ordered. With no water back home, I figured I might as well stick around for dinner at the festival.
Street musicians played loud country music. I wasn’t much for crowds, but I didn’t mind a good band. As I wandered toward the beat, I passed several food trucks, which smelled so mouth-wateringly delicious that my stomach growled. I wasn’t a foodie, but it’d been a while since I’d had savory food like that. Lured by a BBQ food truck with a fat cartoon pig on the outside, I got in line.
If I had felt out of place in this small town all week, now I felt like a giant with four heads. Everyone was paired off in private circles, talking as if they’d all known each other their entire lives. As I stood in line, I’d randomly catch someone staring at me—or rather my hand—before they slid their gaze away.
I sighed, not feeling the least bit offended.
When I got to the front of the line, they had crossed out most of the menu items as being sold out already. The only thing left was pulled pork sandwiches or baby-back ribs. They both sounded good, but if I wanted to eat ribs, I had to sit down. The tables were crowded, and I did NOT want to sit by anyone. “I’ll have a sandwich.”
Thankfully, the two guys who were working didn’t ask any personal questions as they handed over the basket and pointed to the napkin dispenser. I grabbed one and stepped out of the line. As I surveyed the growing crowd, I eased along the back while listening to the music.
The band played from a small stage set up in the middle of the road, and they weren’t too shabby. They looked to be about my age, perhaps even in college. Meandering around the tables and away from the crowd, I spotted a little tent with royal guards.
I came here to see the king, and so that’s obviously where I need to be . . .
I nonchalantly placed one foot in front of the other, pretending not to notice the area was roped off. This was going to be so easy—” A mammoth guard stepped out in front of me from nowhere, and I smacked into him. “Hi,” I blubbered as I bounced back and arched my chin to see his face. The dude was a giraffe.
“This area’s roped off.” His lips didn’t crack a smile, and the intense glare he planted on me warned me not to push him. The last thing I needed was an altercation in my first week in town. That wasn’t how I was going to impress the king.
“Oh.” I made a large O shape with my lips, pretending only now to notice the guarded area. “I was looking for the bathrooms. I thought it was in this tent.”
“Bathrooms are by the food trucks.”
“Great. I’ll head over . . . that way,” I pointed to indicate I was leaving as I turned on my heel. So much for that plan. I stuffed the last of my sandwich into my mouth and decided to call it a night. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking. I wasn’t going to get near the king tonight. Now that my belly was full, home sounded great.
The entrance area was packed with people. Just the sight of them all lined up, waiting to get in made my stomach knot. I didn’t want to weave through them while they all stared at me as if I was the newest museum exhibit. My gaze skirted toward the back alley. That was clear. I could the jump fence and go that way. Yeah, it’s a detour, but that’s where I was with this whole people thing. I would rather walk miles to avoid one person. People meant questions, and I was done answering questions.
The people annoyed me, but this band was fantastic. I focused on the lyrics, and it sure helped to keep my anxiety attacks at bay. I missed live music. So much so, I was almost whistling by the time I ducked into the alley. As I rounded the corner, my eyes caught sight of someone.
A woman so radiantly dressed in a gown fit for a fairytale wedding she seemed to glow from her position against the brick building. What made me stop wasn’t her appearance. Rather, the sobs of distress. She was bawling as if she was in extreme agony. As much as I avoided people, I couldn’t let a person suffer. “Ma’am,” I infused my voice with empathy. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Continuing to weep into her hands, she didn’t lift her face, and I pulled toward her.Maybe she needs a doctor?“What’s wrong? Can I call for help?” I offered, taking further steps closer.
“Nobody can help me.” Her words fell between broken sobs. “It’s just fate.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I cautioned. “Nothing is ever out of your hands. Someone can do something. What’s wrong?” I pressed again. My military instincts had taken over. I sensed she was in trouble. “If you’re in danger,” I whispered in case she was being spied on, “tap your foot.”
“I’m not in danger,” she exclaimed, dropping her hands to reveal her face. “Unless you think being forced to marry a man you don’t even know is unsafe?”
