Relief rushed back into Lydia’s expression. “Okay. Thank you. I really thought you would be perfect for this.”
I closed the folder and tucked it under my arm, already feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle into place. The conversation moved on quickly after that, the way it always did, as if nothing significant had happened. But it echoed in my head long after everyone else had turned their attention elsewhere.
I told myself Lydia hadn’t meant anything by it. I told myself I was the one keeping score, the one turning an offhand comment into proof of something larger. I told myself I was being unfair.
That didn’t stop the unhappiness from curling tightly in my chest.
I carried the folder with me longer than I needed to, shifting it from one arm to the other as I moved through the rest of the morning. It felt heavier than paper should. That wasn’t new. Responsibilities often did that once they settled into my hands.
No one brought the talent show up again, which felt unfair considering how loud it had become in my own head. Jane moved on to planning something else. Lucy disappeared into a meeting with Mom and Dad. Lydia bounced from conversation to conversation, clearly relieved that the moment of tension had passed. Meri finished her chapter and started another.
I told myself that was normal. I told myself that was how families worked. One small ripple did not stop the current.
Still, as I ate, I replayed the conversation over and over, mentally editing my tone and timing. I wondered if I should have said more or less, if I had made it awkward by naming something that usually went unspoken. Guilt followed every version of the exchange, settling in my chest like it had found a permanent place there.
I quickly cleaned up my dishes then grabbed an apron so I could feed guests. The next hour was taking orders, rushing fulldishes out and empty dishes back to the kitchen. I barely had time to be alone with my thoughts.
Once the breakfast rush died down, I spread the paperwork across the kitchen table. I lined up the pages carefully, smoothing bent corners and straightening edges until everything sat evenly. I made lists. I rearranged schedules. I identified the gaps and wondered how we were going to fill them.
By the time I finished, the talent show looked almost manageable but I had been fooled by that before. Recently I had attempted to organize a wedding at the inn and if it had been left to me, I would have failed spectacularly. Thankfully, my sisters had helped.
What was I doing trying to help organize a talent show?
My phone buzzed against the table, startling me slightly. I picked it up and saw the reminder glowing on the screen about the guitar lesson for Thursday at four.
For a moment, my instinct was to dismiss it. I had things to do. I had responsibilities. I had already said yes to enough.
My thumb hovered over the screen, the option to cancel right there, easy and sensible.
I thought about Caleb instead. About the way he had waited for me to finish my sentences without rushing me. How he had accepted my reasons without questioning whether they were valid. The conversation we had about books and how he didn’t judge my choices.
I locked my phone and slid it back into my pocket.
The decision felt small, but it settled something inside me. I didn’t need permission to learn how to play the guitar. I didn’t need to justify it to anyone else. It could exist quietly, just for me.
I pushed the paperwork back into the file just as Lydia entered the room. “Hey, can we talk about this talent show? Who else is on the committee? Who is actually organizing this?”
“Oh, I’m not too sure. I think we are? The lady wasn’t too clear on that,” Lydia vaguely mentioned.
“Do you have her contact info?” I asked, feeling slightly alarmed.
Lydia ignored me, grabbing Meri as she was walking by. She cleared her throat with an expression that meant she was about to announce something she was very pleased with herself for. She clasped her hands together, practically vibrating with anticipation. “I had an idea. Actually, I had a great idea. I signed all of us up for snowboarding lessons at Hale Lodge.”
“You did what?” Lucy asked.
“It’ll be fun,” Lydia said quickly. “Plus, it’s December. We should be doing winter things. We can take one afternoon to have fun together.”
Lydia turned to me last, her smile expectant. “You’re okay with it, right?”
I thought about the folder still sitting on the table. I thought about the guitar lesson I had almost canceled. I thought about how tired I was of doing things simply because they were decided for me.
“I’ve never snowboarded,” I said instead.
Lydia laughed. “That’s the point. It’s new and fun for all of us.”
“I’m not coordinated,” I added, because it felt important to be honest.
“Neither is Lucy,” Lydia said cheerfully.
