I exhaled slowly.
Then Great Aunt Cathy arrived.
She entered the square as if the evening had been waiting for her approval, her coat immaculate, her expression already critical. She paused at the edge of the seating area, surveyed the stage, the lighting, the chairs, and finally me.
Her gaze lingered, her expression unimpressed. Great Aunt Cathy made her way to the judges’ table and took a seat without comment. Anne followed, polite and subdued, offering me a quick, apologetic smile as she sat beside her grandmother. I returned it, grateful for the quiet solidarity.
Great Aunt Cathy leaned forward, peering at the handwritten schedule taped to the side of the stage. “There’s no printed programs for the audience?”
“We posted the order online,” I replied evenly.
“That seems cheap. You should have at least printed programs for the evening,” she said disapprovingly.
“It’s accessible online. The Winter Carnival has a tight budget. Perhaps next year you would like to donate to the event and we can have printed programs then,” I said sweetly with a smile.
Her face soured further and she sniffed.
Mr. Humphrey cleared his throat loudly. I turned around to find him reaching for the microphone.
“Mr. Humphreys! We have two minutes yet,” I stepped in front of him just in time.
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Two.”
He immediately tapped the microphone and a sharp squeal echoed across the square.
I winced, then raised both hands in a calming gesture to the crowd, smiling as if this were charming instead of mildly alarming. Laughter rippled through the front rows.
Caleb adjusted something at the board so the feedback stopped.
I mouthedthank youto him.
The first act gathered at the side of the stage, whispering last-minute reminders to each other. I went briefly to speak with them, keeping my voice low and steady. “Take your time. If you happen to forget something, keep going. Everyone here wants you to succeed.”
They nodded, breathing a little easier.
As I stood, a woman I didn’t recognize appeared at my elbow, phone held casually in one hand.
“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m with North County Now.”
My stomach tightened. “I’m actually in the middle of something. If you want a comment about the talent show it will have to wait for intermission or afterward.”
“It’ll be quick,” she said. “People are curious about Caleb Green. Any chance he’s performing tonight?"
“No. Celeb is simply helping out with the sound,” I said.
She smiled like this was interesting information. “So he’s staying out of the spotlight.”
Before I could respond, Caleb was suddenly there, calm and unhurried.
“Kitty is coordinating the show,” he said pleasantly. “If you’d like to talk, it’ll have to wait until after.”
“Are you sure you can give us a comment? How does it feel to be back in the spotlight?” she pressed.
“I’m sorry, tonight is Kitty’s night with the talent show. If you aren’t here to talk about that then we have no comment,” Caleb firmly replied.
The blogger hesitated, recalibrating, then laughed lightly. “Of course. Break a leg.”
She drifted away.
