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Then Sybil looked past me toward the guest corridor.

“If you’re going to follow me through every section, you stay out of actor marks and you do not move a prop without asking me first unless somebody is in immediate danger.”

“Agreed. I’ll stay out of actor marks, and I won’t touch a prop unless somebody’s in immediate danger.”

“You learn which emergency lanes are actually faster before you decide you know my exits better than I do.”

I thought about how quickly she’d rerouted me away from guest traffic earlier. “You know these lanes better than I do. I’ll ask before I assume.”

“And if I tell you a route change will create a bottleneck, you listen.”

“I already do.”

She stared at me.

There was still irritation in it.

There was something warmer too.

“Fine,” she said. “Then we have another walkthrough to finish.”

She turned toward the passage.

I stepped to her outside shoulder, putting myself between her and the side opening where the lantern had appeared, and matched her pace as we headed back toward the farm lights.

This time, she didn’t ask me to move.

Chapter Three

The wind caught the admission notice before I could tape it to the ticket-booth window. I trapped it against the glass with my forearm, balancing my route binder on the narrow ledge beneath it. The new wording explained the reduced capacity and the closed section. Behind me, children were still choosing pumpkins from wooden wagons while their parents waited for cider, and the smell of hot apples drifted across the gravel.

A woman approaching the booth stopped beside her companion. “Isn’t that the planner they arrested?”

I recognized her from a bridal showcase I’d worked in the spring. She’d taken two business cards and asked whether I traveled outside Woodbridge Falls. Now she stood close enough to read the same company name on my credential, but she hadn’t addressed me.

“I was released this morning,” I said. “I’m still running the attraction, and tonight’s changes will be posted here before we open.”

She looked at the notice, then led her companion back toward the farm stand without answering. I reached for the tape. Across the entrance lane, a worker tilted a floodlight toward the staff gate, bleaching the gold from the cornstalks tied to its posts. Anyone coming through would have to stop beneath it and show a credential. The amber bulbs I’d strung over the entrance were barely visible in the glare.

“Let me hold that flat,” Damien said.

He leaned down beside me, holding the paper steady while I secured the corners. Sheltered from the wind by his broad shoulder, I could smell the soap on his skin. His flannel was open at the throat, and my nipples tightened beneath my thermal as I imagined pressing my mouth there.

“Thank you,” I said, looking up at him. “I need to get the revised staffing sheet inside before the evening crew arrives.”

Damien lifted the binder from the ledge and handed it to me. He turned to watch the people passing behind us while I opened the booth door.

The counter inside barely had room for the ticket scanner and a mug full of pens. I clipped the staffing sheet above them, covering yesterday’s assignments, and drew the attendant’s attention to the two extra positions at the bypass. She leaned over my binder while I explained when to hold the next group. Through the open door, I could hear someone dragging the last barrier into place.

“If the return lane backs up, call me before you send anyone else in,” I said. “We’ve got less room to absorb a delay tonight.”

She checked the names against her own list. “Clinton sent both of them over already. They’re getting their radios.”

That was one thing I wouldn’t have to chase. I left her checking the revised ticket total and took Damien toward production, passing workers pulling on costume pieces outside the changing area. Without their masks, they looked cold and tired. One of them asked me where to collect a replacement battery, and for the length of the answer I could concentrate on something other than the woman at the booth.

Laurie was waiting outside my workroom with an insulated carrier hooked over her arm. The staff-gate worker had radioed that she was checked in and being escorted to production. She hugged me before I could put down the binder, pressing its metal rings uncomfortably against my ribs. I held her just as tightly until she loosened her grip and took a proper look at me.

“Pam wanted to come too, but she’s covering the counter. Have you got somewhere we can sit for ten minutes?”