“Then it’s settled,” Colonel says.
“And we’ll still have the peanuts,” the caftan lady adds like a prayer.
“Don’t you dare let that boy on my property,” the cockatoo in my backpack hisses in my head. “The Blakelys are a bunch of snakebelly, no good—”
I nudge the backpack with my foot to shut her up.
The Chamber moves on to old business and new business, and everyone has thoughts about how to deal with the turkeys, how many traffic cones we need to buy for the farmers’ market, and whether or not the new visitors’ center brochure should have the old gaol or the toy shop on the cover, as the candy store has already had a turn. It’s pretty obvious that the toy shop is a better choice for bringing in visitors, but everyone hates the Coves, so they’re putting up a fight. I can see why. The Coves oppose or question nearly every motion put forth and never seem to smile; these people would argue with a stump.
As the meeting drones on, I steal glances at Hunter. I get the weirdest vibe off him—curious but guarded, interested but puzzled. He knows there’s something I’m not telling him, and I’m going to have to face the music soon. I wonder if it will be awkward when he stops by the shop tomorrow, and I realize, now that I’m committed, I have a lot of actual work to do.
Finally setting down his gavel, Nick asks if there’s any further business, and I nervously raise my hand. “I’ve never run a business before,” I admit. “Can anybody help me with—I don’t know, permits and that sort of thing?”
Joyce Blakely smiles, friendly again. “You know, I’m a notary. I’d be happy to stop by the shop and help you.”
“Over my dead body!” Maggie is so upset that she squawks, “Shipoopi!” and flaps around, nearly knocking over the backpack under the table. Across the room, I see Farrah struggling to contain her laughter.
Joyce’s eyes narrow. “Did I just hear a bird?”
I hold up my backpack, revealing a pink cockatoo who is currently calling Joyce Blakely every name under the sun. “My pet cockatoo. Sorry if she’s disturbing the peace.”
Everyone has a good laugh, and Colonel Gooch raps hisknuckles on the table. “As talented as you are, Joyce, I promised Rhea I’d be here for all her legal needs. It’s on me to help her navigate the business side of things.” He looks to me and winks—or blinks, hard to tell with the eye patch. “Rhea, whenever you’re ready, give my office a call, and Riley will get you on the calendar so we can sort all that out.”
“You’re goddamn right you will, you old coot,” Maggie mutters.
With no further business, Nick gets to happily bang his gavel one last time, dismissing the meeting. Everyone goes right back for the food, and I don’t know why I’m surprised to see that all the peanuts I brought have been devoured, leaving wet brown shells on everyone’s plates.
I am entirely unprepared for how many people want to shake my hand in welcome. No one, other than Colonel and Shelby, seems to connect me with Maggie, and it’s honestly a relief that I don’t have to accept condolences, especially considering Maggie is currently in my backpack, cursing like a sailor. I can see Joyce trying to edge her way around the table toward me, but everyone else wants to talk to her. I move as she does, keeping the table between us. It’s not a disappointment when Hunter ends up leaning against the wall beside me.
“That was a little intense,” Hunter says.
“Are Chamber meetings always like that?”
“Historically speaking? Never. It’s usually a lot more droning and gavel banging. One time Barb and Irene almost got in a catfight because they both wanted to use Papyrus on their signs.”
“Okay, so I definitely won’t go with that for my new logo. Not that I was going to. I’m more of a Comic Sans girl.”
Hunter grimaces.
“Joking,” I hurry to add. “Love a good font joke. In fact, I’m afontof font jokes.”
He tries to resist chuckling, but he can’t quite get there. It turns out he has dimples, but maybe they only come out when he’s trying not to laugh.
“Sounds like you really keep up with theTimes,” he says.
“Well, we are inGeorgia.”
He holds up his hands. “Uncle. I don’t know any more fonts.”
“Good. I didn’t have anything that worked for Trebuchet, so I just threw that joke out.”
For a long moment, we just smile at each other like idiots, and then he looks down, awkward again.
“I hope Nathan didn’t make you uncomfortable,” he finally says. “He can be a little aggressive in the nicest possible way. It’s true that I’m the only person in Arcadia Falls certified to work on downtown buildings, but since you don’t know me, I totally understand if you want a second opinion. Cisco and I work together—he was at lunch with me yesterday—but he can give you an independent quote, and I’ll accept whatever number he gives you. You don’t have to use me—I mean, you don’t have totrustme, is what I’m trying to say. Badly.”
“Don’t trust him,” my grandmother huffs from her backpack.
But why wouldn’t I, when the whole town does?
