“Yes, excellent,” he said.
I pressed my lips together and moved the form into the music pile, which was no longer strictly accurate but felt emotionally correct.
Another woman approached, clutching her form tightly. “I just wanted to make sure you received this.”
“Thank you,” I replied, checking the name. “You’re listed as tap dancing.”
“With a chair,” she added.
I looked up. “A chair?”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s symbolic.”
“Of course it is,” I said, and placed the form carefully in the categoryother, which had now become a philosophical category more than a logistical one.
Marjorie leaned in. “Do we have chairs?”
“We have chairs,” I said, thinking if we had to, we could grab extra from the community center.
“How many?”
“Enough,” I replied, hoping this was true.
The meeting staggered on after that. Forms were handed in. Questions were asked, answers were given, revised, and occasionally contradicted. At one point, Marjorie promised a performer they could have background music without consulting anyone. At another, Mr. Humphrey reassigned a time slot because he liked the handwriting better.
By the time the last person left, the tables were covered in paper and my head felt like it had been shaken.
Marjorie looked at me with wide eyes. “I think that went well.”
I smiled weakly. “It went.”
Mr. Humphrey gathered his stamps. “Very productive.”
“Yes,” I wanly agreed. “Extremely.”
My notes were scattered. My schedule was theoretical at best. My confidence felt thin.
I could do this. I knew I could.
But I didn’t want to do it alone.
That realization settled in quietly, without panic or shame. Just clarity.
Picking up the papers and shoving them at random into a box, I made sure Mr. Humphreys closed up the community center and headed back to the inn. I found my sisters in thekitchen, Lydia talking animatedly while Lucy poured tea and Jane listened with patient attention.
“I need help,” I said, before I could overthink it.
They all turned toward me.
“With the talent show. I’m in over my head,” I added.
Lydia blinked. “Really?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I don’t want to pretend I’m not.”
Jane set down her mug. “What do you need?”
Lucy nodded. “We can make a plan.”
