"I got it, Ma." I place it down in the cooler, right alongside the five others I’ve carried in. "Thanks for the help, bro," I say to Sam through gritted teeth. He’s apparently made himself the king of opening and closing the cooler while I do all the heavy lifting.
"Can someone take this?" Nora, my sister, calls, her small arms wrapped around a jar of Mom’s sauce that’s so big it covers most of her slight frame.
My dad grabs it, stepping away from his designated job of placing red and white checkered tablecloths on each of the ten picnic tables in front of our booth.
This is the largest setup we’ve ever had. We have multiple coolers, four tables for serving, and plenty of seating for our guests, all arranged underneath a jumbo white tent. But it’s not that different from every other setup. Every vendor here takes this event seriously, andeachone believes this could be the year they steal the crown—they’re obviously delusional.
Unlike Hollow Hearts, we don’t get to ditch the booth immediately after setup is finished. Mabel makes most of us stick around until the lunch rush has dwindled—this year even Ari and Howie got roped into helping. Mom convinced Howie with the promise of a freshly baked pie all to himself, but Ari, I assume, is here with Olive. They've been best friends since college, and with the recent distance between her and my red-headed friend… I can't imagine he asked her.
"Okay, all that’s left is to put the flowers on the tables. Ma, are you okay if we take a coffee break?" Bridget asks, carefully carrying a box full of yellow vases brimming with pink, orange, and purple zinnias.
Mom wrinkles her nose, looks around the booth, then to her checklist. "I suppose. But you all better be back herewith hairnets on in…" She glances at her watch. "Forty-three minutes."
I smother the smirk that’s trying to sneak onto my face, and instead turn to my brother, tossing him a nod toward the Brewhouse. The group of us make our way down the cobbled sidewalk, steps quickening as the scent of freshly brewed beans wafts in the air. Sam’s the first one to the door, pulling it open as our hoard trails in.
Howie snags a round oak table near the back, grabbing a few chairs to make sure we can all fit. In what feels like minutes, a smooth iced black coffee is sliding down my throat, the caffeine buzzing in my veins. I'm surrounded by my family, all four O'Reilly kids accounted for, along with Olive, Howie, and Ari, who's noticeably a little closer to my friend than she needs to be.
"So, Max, any more run-ins with Howard's cousin that beat you up?" Bridget points at my face, where my black eyes have turned to more of a greenish-yellow.
I sip my drink, not sure how much I should share. "Yeah, she met Benny and me at the dog park yesterday." I shrug, making eye contact with Howie across the table.
Howie nods, his eyes widening. He can’t seriously wantmeto spill the beans."Did she tell you anything?"
"Uh," I hesitate.
"Max, she must have told you something," Howie doubles down, running a hand along his stubbled jaw.
"Something about what, Howard? Stop being so suspicious." Ari swats his arm, and his cheeks turn pink from the contact.
"Ari!" Olive whines. "Let Max answer."
All eyes turn toward me like I’m the one with all the information when at least three people at this table already have a hunch about what’s going on.
"Yeah, she did." I run a hand through my hair. "She showed it to me."
Howie looks shocked. "She did?"
"Why do you seem surprised? You literally just forced me into saying it."
"I guess I just thought it would take longer for her to—"
Ari huffs, nearly slamming her coffee cup on the table. "To what? Does the girl have a secret or something? We’re all on the edge of our seats here."
Bridget and Nora fall into easy laughter, bystanders in this entire conversation. They know what happened to Olive last fall because Sam and I sort of fell into telling them one night over beers at the cabin. I thought at the time they’d be shocked, but both of my sisters seemed completely unfazed.
"Okay, okay. But keep your voices down. This isn’t something that can leave this group." I take a long pull of my drink and lean forward, my elbows digging into the table. "Sadie has this book. It’s filled with puzzles that are almost all completed—"
Bridget claps. "Let me guess, you volunteered to let her use your special pencil to solve them." Her eyebrows wiggle up and down with innuendo.
"No, Jesus, Bridg." I let out a steadying breath. "She thinks it’s cursed or something. Every time she solves a clue, the word changes to gold script on the page. Oh and Beth, the owner of 1793, is the one who gave it to her. She said something about learning her fate."
Nora pushes away from the table. "At least it’s not her arm this time." She walks toward the restroom in the back hallway.
"Wait a minute"—Ari crosses her arms over her chest—"I know I’m not finding out for the second time in this coffee shop that someone we know is cursed." Her gaze darts to Olive in a pointed stare.
Howie brushes his hand down her arm, and she visibly relaxes. "Ari, you are." He smiles at her softly. "Sorry to break it to you."
"No fucking way. Isn’t it possible this is just like some weird color-changing ink?"
