They sat in companionable silence for a few sips. Outside, a couple wandered past, arguing good-naturedly about whether to stop at the bookstore or the fudge shop first.
“So,” Carmen said at last. “How’s it feel? Waking up and knowing you’re not going home in two days.”
“Terrifying,” Bree said. “And… right.”
Carmen smiled, a corner of her mouth quirking. “Good terrifying, or the ‘I made a terrible mistake’ kind?”
“Good,” Bree said. She picked at the edge of her muffin. “I talked to my parents again this morning. They’d gone back to the cemetery to tidy up, like they always do after a visitation day. My mom was worried about the safety stuff; my dad wanted to know if the warehouse has decent parking.”
“He would get along with my father,” Carmen said. "Dads and parking stuff! They seemed okay?”
“They’re… catching up,” Bree said. “It’s like I hit fast-forward on my life and they’re trying to watch a replay in slow motion. They’ll get there.”
“And Hank?” Carmen asked. “Is he holding up under all this responsible-adult pressure?”
“He’s pretending he’s fine,” Bree said. “Which means he’s quietly freaking out and making lists in his head. He’s meeting with Colby and Brian right now to go over Jason’s preliminary numbers. He promised to text me if he needs someone to talk him down from ordering a lifetime supply of security cameras.”
Carmen snorted. “I might contribute to that fund.”
They sipped again.
“I meant what I said last night,” Carmen said eventually. “I’m glad you’re staying. Copper Moon’s better with you in it.”
Bree’s chest pinched. “You sure you’re not just saying that because you think I’ll let you use my studio bathroom when you’re in town?”
“That too,” Carmen said. “I’m going to need a place to change shoes between events when I’m not hauling Dragons’ swag anymore.”
“You’re really taking the Cup job?” Bree asked.
Carmen nodded. “I said yes this morning,” she said. “They’re putting the contract together. It’s part-time to start; I’ll coordinate community activities for Copper Moon and two of the other smaller tracks. It’s not glamorous, but it feels… clean.”
Bree let out a breath. “I’m happy for you,” she said. “And selfishly, I’m relieved. Knowing you’ll be nearby sometimes makes this whole staying thing feel less like jumping into the void.”
“You’ve got a whole net down there,” Carmen said. “Hank, Colby, Brian, the mayor, and Diaz. Me. You’re not jumping alone.”
“I know,” Bree said. “It’s just… a lot of new all at once.”
“That’s kind of your thing, though,” Carmen said. “Big moves. Big feelings.”
“Please don’t tell my therapist that,” Bree said. “She’ll get ideas.”
They both laughed.
A shadow fell over the table. Bree looked up; Colby stood there, tablet tucked under one arm, hair pushed back like he’d run a hand through it one too many times.
“Hey,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt. Hank said you were here; he’s on his way. I had something I wanted to float past both of you.”
“You want coffee first?” Carmen asked. “I’m buying; I heard you’re about to be a homeowner.”
He shook his head. “I’m operating on espresso fumes already,” he said. He glanced at Bree. “You got a minute for nerd talk?”
“Always,” she said. “Pull up a chair.”
He dragged over a spare and sat, setting the tablet on the table. The screen showed a spreadsheet; lots of numbers, dotted with red and yellow highlights.
“So Diaz showed me how to access some of the public technical bulletins the series circulates to teams and sanctioning bodies,” he said. “Stuff about suspected counterfeit parts, flagged vendors, that kind of thing. I cross-referenced those with purchase records for Einstein’s team over the past two seasons.”
Carmen’s brows rose. “That sounds like a fun Saturday night.”
