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They both turn to look at the tow truck pulling Vanny, and the events coordinator takes a step back—as if so surprised he can barely keep his feet.
I glance at Tank, who nods. “Get on out and see what’s shaking.”
So I do, sidling up to them like it’s perfectly normal for me to have shown up this way.
Jack greets me. “Hey, Ruthie. Engine trouble?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But what’s in the back is all that matters, right?”
His smile is tight, though, and Dustin’s running his hands through his white beard like he wants to pull it clean off.
“I guess you didn’t get my text either?” Jack asks. He has an aw-shucks expression that promises nothing good.
“No,” I say, feeling a jolting sensation in my chest.
“Sorry,” he says, gesturing to the tow truck—“especially since you went to all this trouble. But we’ve cancelled the event. I would’ve texted you sooner, but one of our pipes sprang a leak, and it was a madhouse. It was supposed to be a warm day, but—” he gestures to the cold air as if it’s a color that can be seen, “—it’s not. Looks like it’s only going to get colder. We’d love to have you back in the spring, though.” He glances at the tow truck again, and Tank gives him a cheerful wave. “Might give you time to iron out a few wrinkles.”
Shame wraps around me like a discarded Christmas ribbon.
Not good enough.
Not smart enough.
Not enough, period.
I feel a tell-tale sting in my nose, a sign that tears are trying to betray me, and I cough, trying to choke them down. “Of course. That makes sense.”
I’m about to ask Dustin about Flower—poor Flower who was supposed to be the star of the show, but will now never know what happens in Llama, Llama Red Pajama, when a woman I recognize bustles up to us. It’s Josie, a psychic who knows my brother, distinct from other psychics because she seems to get off on telling people things they don’t want to hear. Including Shane.
She crashed Thanksgiving dinner, which my brother and his girlfriend hosted, and then told Shane he’d be getting married soon. It was hilarious, but also total bullshit.
She’s wearing a fluffy coat over a bright red dress and has a black veil pulled over her face. A multi-colored carpet bag is clutched in both hands.
“Oh, you’re giving her the bad news,” she says. “I was hoping I’d be here for that.”
Her meaning hits me like a truck. My mouth drops open, and for the first time during this encounter I am genuinely offended. Turning to Jack, I say, “You’re cancelling me, but you’re paying her to entertain people? She’s a hack. She told my brother’s friend he’s going to get married soon, and anyone who’s met that man knows he’d cut off his own finger before he puts a ring on it.”
“A week,” she says. “It’ll happen in a week. Might want to order a cake.” She laughs. “Or tell him to get a bonesaw. I guess it’s his choice.”
I give Jack a pointed look.
He shrugs and shifts a little on his feet. “She can do her act indoors.” His gaze finds Tank and the tow truck again, and I can hear him silently adding, And she doesn’t make my brewery look like a used car lot.
“It’s okay,” Josie says, turning to me. “This is what’s supposed to happen.”
“Tell that to the dog in the back of Dustin’s van,” I snap, because Flower’s cute underbite is seared into my memory.
Josie’s quiet for a moment, staring up at the sky, or maybe the clouds moving in, which look suspiciously like they might contain frozen white stuff. “Unfortunately, you’re right to be worried about her. She’ll never get adopted if she stays at the shelter,” she says at last, her gaze meeting mine. “She’ll spend the rest of her life there, miserable and alone, wanting something she can’t have, and her only friend will be a hedgehog.” She shrugs, making the veil rustle. “Bummer.”
Maybe I’m an easy mark—Shane would certainly say so—but tears rise in my eyes.
Dustin snorts. “Well, now. That’s the one animal we don’t have.”
“Save it for the guests, Josie,” Jack grumbles. He tugs on the belt loops of his jeans and stares longingly at the door leading back into the brewery.
Josie shifts her attention to him. “The remote you lost is wedged under your couch.”
He flinches, then tries to shake it off. “My wife just told you it was missing to mess with me. If it’s under there, she’s the one who put it there.”
