“You did fine,” I told myself quietly, even though no one had asked.
I flipped through the stack of vendor notes I had brought back with me. Follow-ups. Thank-you emails. A reminder to confirm extension cords for the talent show. My handwritingslanted more than usual, letters crowding each other as if they were in a hurry to get off the page.
I was halfway through rewriting a list when Lydia breezed in, cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement, coat half unbuttoned like she had been too busy talking to notice.
“That was incredible,” she announced. “Did you see the candle booth? Or the woman selling hand-knit dog sweaters. I bought one for a dog I don’t even have.”
“I saw,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I expected. I cleared my throat and tried again. “It went well.”
Lydia paused, head tilting. “Are you sick?”
“No,” I said automatically. “Just tired.”
She accepted that answer the way Lydia always did, by immediately moving on to the next thought. She dropped her bag on a chair and leaned against the desk, eyes bright.
“Caleb stopped by my booth earlier,” Lydia mentioned.
I continued writing my list. “Did he?”
“Yes,” she said cheerfully. “We talked about social media stuff.”
“Social media stuff?” I questioned, giving Lydia my full attention. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Lydia continued, oblivious. “He was asking about monetizing content. Teaching music lessons online. That sort of thing. I assumed you already knew.”
“No,” I softly said.
Lydia frowned. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t,” I repeated, because my brain needed the repetition to catch up.
“Well,” she said, waving a hand lightly. “It was just brainstorming. Nothing serious yet. Caleb seemed excited though. You know how people can get when they start imagining possibilities.”
“I suppose so,” I mentioned non-commitally. I was surprised. I had thought Caleb wanted to live a quiet life, not become an internet star.
She smiled. “He would be great at it. It would solve the shop issue without touring, which is obviously the dream. I gave him some basic pointers. He picked it up fast.”
I swallowed, my throat protesting sharply this time. It sounded like Lydia and Caleb had talked a lot if she knew all about his financial issues at the shop. “Of course he did.”
Lydia glanced at me again, slower now. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, a little too quickly. “I’m just processing what you said.”
She studied my face for a moment, then shrugged. “If you need help with the talent show stuff tonight, I’m around.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She leaned in and kissed my cheek, already mentally elsewhere. “You’re doing great.”
When she left, I stood there for a long moment, hands braced on the desk, staring at nothing in particular. I told myself all the reasonable things. Caleb had been busy. I was busy. This conversation wasn’t a secret, it simply hadn't reached me yet. I needed to trust that Caleb would tell me what was happening.
I wasn’t jealous. Lydia had done nothing wrong. Caleb had done nothing wrong either, at least not intentionally. The discomfort sat somewhere older and more familiar, pressing against a place I liked to pretend I had grown out of.
Once again Lydia was the bubbly center of attention and I was left out. I rubbed my throat again, harder this time, and winced when my voice cracked as I tried to speak aloud, just to test it.
“Get a grip,” I croaked. The sound startled me. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You’re fine.”
I wasn’t convinced.
