The relief that washed over me was immediate and surprising. My shoulders loosened. My breath came easier. I put the box of paperwork on the kitchen table. “I need to figure out how to schedule the acts, who to accept and who to reject, prizes, categories, and some people to judge the acts.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Lydia said brightly.
And as we pulled chairs closer and began sorting through the mess together, I thought about how much easier life was when I simply asked for what I needed.
Now if I could only figure out what I needed from Caleb.
Chapter Ten: A Whirlwind Of An Update
Caleb
Kitty arrived with a thick folder in her hand, and a tote dragging her shoulder down with even more paperwork. The folder was stuffed so full that papers threatened to slide free every time she shifted her grip. Her cheeks were pink from thecold, and her eyes had that steady look people got when they were running on stubbornness instead of rest.
“Hi,” she said, stepping into my shop carefully. “I just came from a meeting, so I’m sorry to bring all this stuff here.”
“Hi,” I replied. “Come in. Set your things wherever you want.”
She chose to sit at the stool near the counter, and let the tote slide to the floor with a thunk. The folder landed on the counter and immediately tried to spill its contents.
Kitty pressed a hand over the top as if she could physically keep order in place.
“You’re busy,” I observed.
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
I watched her for a moment, feeling the discomfort I had been carrying since our last lesson settled in my chest again. I had said what I needed to say, but I had said it too sharply. The boundary had been fair, but the delivery hadn’t.
I cleared my throat. “Before we start, I want to say something. I’m sorry about last time, about how I reacted when you asked me about helping with the talent show.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. She didn’t speak, which was her way of giving me room to keep going.
“I assumed you were asking me to perform,” I continued. “You weren’t. You were asking for help and I shut you down like you had done something wrong.”
Kitty’s expression softened, but she still held herself carefully. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I do,” I said. “I’m allowed to have that boundary of not participating in the show, but I’m not allowed to make you feel like you crossed a line when you didn’t even know the line was there. It was wrong of me.”
Her mouth twitched, as if she was trying not to smile too soon. “I understand now why you reacted.”
“That doesn’t mean it was fair,” I said.
She nodded slowly, eyes dropping to the folder. “I wasn’t asking you to perform, I was trying to ask for organizing help. You just… seemed like someone who knows how to make things run smoothly.”
I exhaled, a quiet release of tension. “I do. That part is true.”
Kitty’s shoulders eased a fraction. “Thank you.”
I gestured toward the workbench. “Do you want to do the lesson first, or do you want to talk about the talent show before your brain bursts?”
“My brain is already burst,” she said, and the way she said it made me smile despite myself. “But I think I need the guitar first or I’ll start crying over spreadsheets.”
“That’s fair,” I agreed, picking a guitar from the display, quickly checking the tuning, before handing it to her. “I’ll give you this one on loan so you can practice.”
“On loan?” Kitty asked as she lifted the guitar into position. She placed her fingers on the chord shape we had worked on and strummed.
“It’s my way of getting you to like it so maybe someday soon you will choose to buy it,” I mentioned with a smile.
“Devious,” Kitty remarked before grinning.
