“You’re lying,” McKenna blurted.
Georgie jutted her chin. “Excuse me?”
“You did not invite Harry Connick Junior to come sing in your backyard.”
“Of course not. My backyard’s too tiny.” Georgie waved her hand. “I invited him to come sing in Barb’s backyard inside her giant barn.”
“And he said yes?” McKenna snapped the pencil in two. “Harry Connick Junior said yes. You’re telling me you just emailed him and said,Hey Harry, come put on a concert in my backyard—”
“Barb’s backyard,” everyone said.
“—and he said yes? Harry said yes?” McKenna raced to the window and lifted the screen. “Nate, did you know Georgie invited Harry Connick Junior and he said yes?”
“What?” Nate’s voice yelled back.
McKenna spun back to Georgie. “Did he really say yes?”
“Three times if you must know,” said Georgie. “I wasn’t sure if my email went through, so I asked my granddaughter and the girl who cleans my house to reach out as well. He responded to all three of us and said yes, he’d be happy to visit. He even signed the contract three times.”
“I still don’t know who he is,” Evie whispered.
“Not the guy who sings at the high school football games, I know that much,” mumbled Gus.
“He’s Harry Connick Junior,” McKenna said. “Harry Connick Junior,” she said again, only louder before leaning out the window and shouting, “Harry Connick Junior, Nate.”
“What?”
She turned back to the group. “Do you haveanyidea how much Momma J loved Harry Connick Junior?”
“No,” Gus said. “Mostly because I have no idea who MommaJ is.”
“A friend of Harry’s?” Evie said with a shrug.
“My mom. Well, my adopted mom. Bobbi’s mom. Our mom. She looooooooved Harry.”
“Great. Maybe she’ll pay three thousand dollars to come hear him sing next to a burned-down barn,” Gus said.
“She’s dead.”
“I’m just going to stop talking now.” Gus lowered his head.
“No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay that she’s dead. I still miss her terribly. I just mean it’s not like she died last Tuesday and I’m too emotional to talk about it. I can talk about it. I’d just rather not talk about it, because well... I still miss her terribly. But Harry!” McKenna flung the two broken pencil pieces she didn’t even know she was still holding into the air. “I definitely want to talk about Harry. Why are we not talking more about Harry?”
“What’s to talk about?” Georgie said. “He has nowhere to perform now.”
McKenna stared at everyone, her mouth surely gaping open enough to catch a bald eagle. “You guys are kidding, right?”
When nobody looked like they were kidding, McKenna slammed her hands on her hips, then splayed her fingers toward the window. “Um,helloooo...Here?”
After way too much staring and silence, McKenna said, “Why are you all looking at me like I just suggested Harry perform in a porta potty next to a landfill full of radioactive chemicals instead of a cute B&B with chickens and goats and plenty of space to set up chairs?”
Now it was the others’ turns to flap their elbows and point their fingers like some sort of exotic bird mating ritual. “This place isn’t ready to host a celebrity. It’s not even ready to host non-celebrities. Nobody in their right mind would want to stay here.”
“I’m staying here.”
“Exactly,” said Georgie. “No way this place will be ready in time for Harry.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it’ll be ready.” McKenna leaned out the window. “Nate, we can have this place ready for Harry, can’t we?”
