I followed her toward the hallway, trying not to limp. “I just want to be clear about what we’re actually responsible for.”
“Oh, we’re helping,” she said easily.
“With what exactly?” I pressed.
She waved a hand vaguely. “Organizing. Coordinating. That sort of thing.”
“That sort of thing includes permits, schedules, and money," I remarked.
“Well, yes,” she agreed, unconcerned. “But it’s a talent show.”
“Who is actually in charge?” I questioned, feeling frustrated.
She laughed. “You worry too much.”
I stopped walking. “Lydia.”
She turned, finally sensing the shift in my tone. “What?”
“I need to know what you promised. I need specifics,” I told her.
“I don’t know. They said they needed help and I promised we would help out. It wasn’t a big deal,” Lydia remarked.
I tried not to growl or shake her. “That tells me nothing.”
She hesitated, just briefly. “There’s a meeting tonight.”
My stomach dropped. “What meeting?”
“The committee meeting,” she said. “At the community center.”
“You forgot to mention a meeting,” I said carefully.
“I didn’t forget,” she replied. “I just didn’t remember until now.”
I closed my eyes. Images flashed through my mind uninvited. The wedding at the inn where seating charts had been wrong and the caterer had been delayed because I misread a schedule. Lydia’s Christmas dance, where everything had gone beautifully until someone walked off with the cash box and no one noticed until it was too late.
I was not good at organizing events. I had learned my lesson and didn’t want to try to organize another one.
“When is this meeting?” I asked.
“Tonight,” Lydia said. “Soon.”
I inhaled slowly. “We are going.”
She blinked. “We are?”
“Yes,” I insisted.
“Oh,” she said, smiling again. “Great.”
The community center smelled faintly of coffee and waxed flooring. The lights were too bright, and the chairs scraped loudly as people shifted when Lydia and I entered late. Every head turned toward us, and I felt my shoulders draw inward instinctively.
“Oh, thank goodness,” a woman said, standing immediately. “You must be the Bennet girls.”
“Yes,” Lydia said cheerfully. “We are.”
The woman beamed. “I’m Marjorie. I’m so glad you’re here. We were just saying how relieved we are to finally have leadership.”
