Will I see you today?
Lucy:
It’s a small town. See if you can find me.
Chapter 28
Lucy
I know before I even get out of my car that Annabelle is teetering on the edge of a breakdown or applying for a one-way ticket out of town.
She’s camped out at our usual booth at Loon Landing Café, clutching her iced coffee, three seconds away from crushing the cup like an aluminum beer can, her daily planner splayed open.
I brace for impact.
She looks up as I slide into the booth, her smile tight and wild-eyed. Annabelle pushes a muffin and coffee mug toward me. “I survived.Barely.” She leans against her booth bench, exhausted. “Okay. Do you want good news or chaos first?”
I pretend to think. “Let’s build suspense. Hit me with the good news.”
She points dramatically at her planner. “We raised eighty thousand dollars.”
I nearly choke on my coffee, sputtering over the rim of the mug. “Eighty thousand? Are you freaking kidding?”
“Nope. People really enjoy watching large men chop wood.”
I nod knowingly. “Small-town America at its finest.”
She nods solemnly. “Harris ripping off his shirt didn’t damage my eyes. Once news got out that he was performing, we had to cut the lineoff and stop selling tickets.” Annabelle groans. “May his abs forever fund the community.”
Amen. “They deserve a plaque. Maybe their own wing at the community center.”
My bestie clinks her cup against mine, eyes half lidded with exhaustion. “I swear, I need to hibernate for a week.”
“You deserve it.” Understatement of the year. “Are you going to tell me the bad news, or are you going to make me beg?”
She sighs, hand snaking across the table to snatch my muffin. “Someone stole one of the decorative carved bears at the hardware store. It’s ... gone.”
I blink. “Who steals a bear statue?” Those things are seriously heavy—carved out of solid wood and probably weighing several hundred pounds. A person doesn’t casually toss one in their trunk and drive off.
Annabelle waves a hand, exasperated. “Apparently, someone with a pickup truck, questionable morals, and excellent upper-body strength. Or a group of bored teenagers?”
“Or that.” I shake my head. “Welp. I hope they at least gave it a good home.” I take a sip of my coffee, letting the absurdity settle.
There’s a pause—long enough for me to think we might be done dissecting small-town crimes. “Soooo what was up with you and that guy from last night?”
“The guy at the lodge I was flirting with?” Annabelle tears the top of my muffin off and pops a chunk of it in her mouth. Chews. “He’s from Cincinnati and is here kayaking with friends from college.”
“And?”
“And—nothing. I couldn’t figure out if he was married or not. And too tired to find out the hard way. You know, by sleeping with him, then getting a DM next week from a pissed off wife. No thanks. Hard pass.” Annabelle takes another bite. “I haven’t gotten laid in weeks—like, I’ve been dry downtown sincelongbefore I dumped Tim.”
This gets my attention. This is news to me. “You and Tim weren’t having sex?”
She shakes her head. “I mean—I take some of the blame. I’ve been so busy leading up to Fall Fest and planning the Vodgs wedding—and Tim was so busy doing ... Tim things ... that we just ...” Annabelle shrugs.
I lean back in my chair, watching her pick at the crumbly remains of my muffin like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. Her confession lingers between us.Dry downtown.
I snort quietly into my coffee cup. “You know,” I say, swirling the last sip. “Maybe after this weekend is over, you should plan to get out of town for a bit.”
