“Not for me, thanks,” Tarryn said. “I’m driving.”
“And I know pink and red are not your colours.” Garrett winked.
“They’re not yours either.” She nodded to the ash-pink T-shirt he wore and laughed as he blew her a kiss. “But pink is yours, Sophie. That dress suits you.”
“Thanks. It’s one of my favourites.”
“I’ll make sure you meet my best girls, then,” Tarryn said. “Ally and Elly, in case anyone’s wondering.”
Sophie’s smile reached her eyes. “I’d like that. I’m a sucker for anything fluffy and cute with long eyelashes. Do you use their wool?”
“I trade it to the craft group in town in exchange for a sweater or a blanket.”
“Maybe they would weave an alpaca wool wedding dress for Phyll’s parade,” Will said. “It would be a bit hot, though.”
“Phyll.” Tarryn huffed a sigh. “I know she’s my aunt, but she’s driving me nuts. If she doesn’t back off soon, I’m going to chuck this job in.”
“No festival talk, that’s the deal for tonight.” Garrett rested his chin on his hand. “But we can make an exception for gossip about the lovely Phyllis. I quite like the old bat.”
“What’s she doing to annoy you?” Sophie asked.
“I should have made a list. She’s calling me day and night, asking that I chase up stallholders for payment, get them to sign things. I’ve done that—I’m only waiting on one more payment.”
“Well done,” murmured Sophie. “That’s a huge achievement.”
“Thanks.” Tarryn nodded in Sophie’s direction. “It’s taking a lot of time, though—six or more hours each day. The agreement was it would be a maximum of four, apart from the week of the festival, when it’s as many as you want me to work.”
“I’ll make sure you get paid,” Sophie said. “I’ll call Phyll—again—and remind her she can’t monopolise you. Now I’m here, I’ll be her first point of contact.”
“She has heaps of ideas,” Tarryn continued. “I’m not sure how she expects to make them happen at this late stage.”
“What are they?” Will asked.
“They’re all a bit old-fashioned. She wants to have a decorated dinner table competition at the fair. And a handicrafts stall. And a best wedding pet competition. She mentioned poodles in bridal gowns.” Tarryn poured herself a glass of water. “It’s bad enough all this wedding fever around at the moment, but I think Aunt Phyll’s lost the plot. Who wants to see decorated dinner tables?”
Will exchanged a look with Garrett. “Me. I’d enter.”
“And handicrafts?”
“Darling, your metal sculptures could be considered handicrafts. You could enter.”
“Oh, per-lease. Handicrafts are knitted tea cosies and pressed flower cards. Not scrap metal bent into large shapes. I use a welder, not crochet hooks! Not that I’ve had time to do any welding right now, thanks to Phyll.”
“Not everyone who comes will be a twenties hipster,” Sophie said. “The Facebook page has seen quite a bit of interest across the generations. We should cater to a variety of interests. Like the dinner tables and the wedding pets, for example.”
“If I ever mention getting married, I’m relying on you two”—Tarryn pointed from Will to Garrett— “to lock me in my shouse until I see sense. What’s the point of marriage? No one here has tied the knot.”
Garrett and Will exchanged a look.
“The point of marriage,” Will mused. “Let’s see. So you can fight without worrying it’s break up time. To save on living expenses. Married people live longer.”
“Because he can cook and you can’t. It makes it less likely a relative will contest a will. More rewarding sex,” Garrett added.
“There’s always someone else to put the bins out and buy milk. Never having to go on another awkward first date,” Sophie said.
“Never wondering if a date is a date or if the other person thinks it’s just two friends having coffee.” Will tapped the back of Garrett’s hand. “Like someone I know.”
“You looked straight!”
