Great Aunt Cathy lingered a moment, her gaze flicking between Caleb and the growing crowd. Her expression soured. “I do fulfill my obligations.”
Anne chased after Mom and Dad.
I caught Great Aunt Cathy’s eye and tilted my head toward the sculptures.
She nodded and joined the others.
I moved through the crowd and closer to Caleb, keeping my voice low. “Do you want an out?”
He let out a breath. “If you have one.”
I stood as tall as I could, which really wasn’t very tall at all. Putting the microphone on, I spoke into it. “I’m sorry everyone but we really need to go. We have obligations elsewhere. Thank you for your time.”
There were some protests as I grabbed Caleb by the elbow and marched him towards the warming tent. “They’ll think I’m the bad guy for taking you away. At the back of the warming tent, there is a gap in the tarp. You can slip through there and no one should notice.”
We entered the tent and I showed him the gap at the back. Caleb slipped away toward the trees bordering the park, head down, hands buried in his pockets.
I watched him for a moment before going back to find the judges. As the final scores were tallied and announcements made, I felt the adrenaline drain from my system in uneven waves. My hands were cold. My coffee was gone. My list had acquired several new notes written in increasingly cramped handwriting.
After some arguing, we finally came to a consensus of who our winners were and awarded the prizes.
When it was over, applause echoed through the park, and people drifted away, buzzing with conversation. I took down the ropes, allowing people to get close to study the sculptures and take better pictures.
I scanned the edge of the crowd, half-expecting to see Caleb reappear.
He didn’t.
Chapter Fourteen: Pressure
Caleb
The shop was quiet which I was thankful for after being mobbed at the park.
I locked the door behind me and left my hand on the knob for a moment longer than necessary. Outside, the town carried on as usual. Laughter drifted down the street, muffled by the cold. Somewhere, music played faintly.
I kept the sign as ‘CLOSED’ and turned toward the counter.
The bills were exactly where I had left them.
I stood there staring at the stack like it might reorganize itself if I gave it enough time or better yet, just magically bepaid. I dropped my jacket over the back of a chair and went through them slowly, organizing and stacking them neatly. It was the same old bills. Rent, utilities, and a supplier invoice I had meant to call about last week. Another notice from the insurance company that I already knew by heart.
I told myself this was fine. That this was normal to be a bit behind. That small businesses always felt tight with money in the wintertime. It was a difficult economy for a lot of people and just because I hadn’t seen the same uptick in Christmas sales, didn’t mean the shop wouldn’t turn a profit in the new year.
I carried the stack to the back room and sat on the stool beside the workbench, elbows on my knees. The quiet pressed in now, heavier than before. The shop felt smaller when I stopped moving. I could still hear the park in my head, the hum of powertools, the scrape of boots in snow, the sudden shift in the mood when someone recognized me.
Are you Caleb Green?
It had been said with awe, with delight, like a gift she was offering me.
I closed my eyes.
I had known it would happen eventually. Maple Ridge was not hidden from the world. People visited, there was a tourist industry, especially with the nearby ski hill. Still, I had gotten used to being unnoticed, just being the guy who fixed guitars, replaced strings, and taught kids how to tune by ear. To be ordinary.
Recognition felt like being pulled backward.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and stood, restless. I crossed the shop, straightened a display that didn’t need straightening, then stopped short when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and stared at the screen. Three missed calls. Two voicemails. Same number. Same name. Four texts.
