“Hey, whoa,” he says, rubbing my arms. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. How will we open tomorrow night? All those reservations will probably cancel.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “What other museum has given you this many problems? At any other pop-up, I bet you didn’t have to worry about some natural disaster sweeping through and ruining it. You needed a solid, reliable place, and I couldn’t even give you that. I can’t fix this,” I say through a quiet sob, frustrated with myself for getting so emotional over the one thing Harlow’s always had: harsh weather. “I know how to fix a lot of things on my own, but I can’t fix this.”
He cups my face with both of his hands, a bemused look on his face. “Daze.”
“Don’t laugh!” A storm of emotions surges inside me as my raised voice only makes him chuckle more. Has he lost his mind? “We can’t do all of this.”
“We don’t have to.”
I follow his line of sight to the cars parked near the lobby. Some of them are Max’s students, since the school district issued an inclement weather day, and their parents chauffeured them here. The kids bounce out of their vehicles, practically shouting with excitement about the storm, bragging back and forth about the frightening sounds they heard and how much debris landed in their yard. Then there’s Dawn, Gwen, Bob, my dad, and Oona—but also Shonda from the gas station, the barber, the thrift store manager, and the line cook at Sal’s.
“I made some calls,” Max said. “Everyone knows we’re in crunch time.”
Every single one of them has arrived with tools and buckets of supplies and smiles on their faces, ready to save me.
“That community you’re always talking about? The people you’re always helping?” Max checks me with his shoulder. “They wanna help you, too.”
“Max.” It’s the only word I can manage, and at barely a whisper. He could guess that I would have spent all day and night attempting to do this myself, not wanting to suck people’s energy and resources dry. I hate that he knows me so well. Rather than pick a fight, he’s guided me to a better place.
I turn into him, wrapping my arms around his body and letting his quiet strength envelop me. “Thank you.”
As we tackle the property, I catch Max looking at me more than once with a contented smile, and I beam back at him. People showed up. Thecommunityshowed up. I could cry. On two occasions, I run to the bathroom to do just that.
We start by removing the standing water from the alcove, and we situate borrowed fans to dry the floor. Max fetches the art from his parents’ house and directs his assistants and students as they rebuild the pop-up. We spend hours shoveling and rearranging piles of dirt, and by the day’s end, the parking area looks rough-and-ready, but usable, and with the same numberof spots. We manage it all without a single room cancellation coming through, and the members of the media we’ve invited for the event are still thrilled to attend the next day.
The sun jumps out from behind a cloud in time for a muted golden hour, so we get literal sunshine and rainbows after the storm.
“Food and drinks on me,” I announce to the small group who remains. The students and parents have all gone home, but we have a crowd of other folks from around town. “See you at Sal’s in twenty.”
Max, Ava, and I walk into the casita to change. A rinse-off might do me good, but I go for a healthy dose of body spray instead. If I hop into a hot, steamy shower, I’ll crash.
Gwen and Bob will take me to Sal’s while Max drops Ava off at a friend’s using my truck. His sister hugs me goodbye and bounces out the front door.
Max looks at me, his expression conflicted.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just—I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”
My stomach sinks, and he moves in to hold my hand.
“Not something bad,” he says, and the reply soothes me. “But something important.”
“Right now?”
“No.” He glances outside to where Ava sits in the car. “Later tonight? I want some time alone with you.”
I blush. His words imply something sexual, but his tone has an earnest gravity to it. “Okay, well, tonight,” I say. “After Sal’s.”
He rests his other hand on my jaw and kisses me like I’m the only person who matters in the world.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Daisy, Now
Everyone in a thirty-mile radius must have had the same idea, because I’ve never seen Sal’s so busy. After a night of wild weather, the entire town has shown up to let off some steam. There are out-of-towners galore, some of them in head-to-toe hiking gear and others clad in black leather jackets. With luck and good timing, we snag spots at the far end of the room. Sal brings us pitchers of beer and takes our orders, and we all toast to our efforts.
I want to grab my drink and go to the cocktail table Max and my dad have claimed. For the beast of a day we conquered, their conversation seems less celebratory and more serious—no smiles, but plenty of terse nods. Before I can slip out and interrupt them, Gwen slots into the booth beside me.
