Nothim.
The image of Rhett, sleeves rolled up and smiling as Easton melted into his lap, flashed behind my eyes anyway. He’d probably hate being in charge of tickets; he didn’t strike me as the customer service type. But maybe if I asked…
What was I thinking? Rhett was already doing more than enough for both meandthe festival. He’d probably be going back home once the booths were finished, anyway.
I jostled my head back and forth as if I could shake the thought out of existence. “I’ll figure it out,” I said a little too quickly.
Margot tilted her head, studying me the way she always had. “You’re being… twitchy,” she observed.
I forced a laugh. “Maybe it’s just all this talk about Excel and missing volunteers. Anyone would look twitchy.”
Her lips curved, not quite a smile. “Right.”
???
After an hour religiously waving my blow-dryer like some sort of magic wand, Margot’s clothing was dry.
In that time, I managed to take Easton on a particularly damp walk, shower, braid my hair, start a load of laundry, and pull on my favorite cable knit sweater and a pair of ripped jeans.
I lent Margot one of my most understated raincoats—a black, knee-length poncho that was sure to keep her suit dry. It was decidedly un-chic, and I chose not to tell her about the Callahan’s Garage logo on the back. For my own sake.
On the way out the door, I grabbed my trusty yellow anorak that I’d owned for nearly a decade. The arms had always been too long—I was pretty sure it was actually a men’s coat—but the flannel lining never failed to keep me warm.
Our walk to the café stayed quiet. Margot didn’t seem in the mood to talk as her heels clicked and clacked down the sidewalk and around countless puddles.
That was fine by me. One of the best parts of the rain was thesound. It pattered steadily against the hood of my jacket, slowly wetting the bottoms of my jeans as it grew in intensity. The raindrops themselves were cold—the first signs of an impendingchilly autumn season—and the breeze nipped ever-so-slightly at my nose as if to say,goodbye, summer.
The Morning Bell was nearly empty. No doubt the teenagers that frequently spent their afternoons there didn’t feel like walking from the school in this weather.
Across the road, Marigold’s caught my eye. The lights were on, but Rhett had taped brown paper to the window and door so no one could watch him work. Remembering how annoyed he got when I hovered the other day, it wasn’t surprising.
Margot wasted no time in ordering. “Seriously, Cameron? I can’t pay with my phone?” She raised her eyebrows and looked to me for commiseration. “Georgie, this town is stuck in the stone ages.”
Cameron glanced between us, face the color of beets, mouth hanging half-open.
Hesitating for a second, I pulled my wallet from a zippered pocket on my jacket. “I can pay,” I muttered and dragged on a smile. “Cameron, can I get a hot mocha? Extra sweet?”
He nodded spasmodically and hurried to input our order on the register. “We’re getting tap pay soon,” Cameron said, but his eyes never left the screen. “Will that be all?”
I handed him my best card and shot Margot a wide-eyed look.
She sighed. “Sorry, Cameron. I’m just not used to how slow things here are anymore.”
He mumbled some sort of response I didn’t hear, because I retrieved my card and immediately retreated to a seat by the window. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I wanted to stare at Marigold’s as if I had x-ray vision. Watching the rain was one of the best pastimes, made even better by the smell of coffee and pastries and the gentle hum of conversation.
Then the door my stare was glued to flew open.
My heartbeat skyrocketed as Rhett appeared, dressed in a thick flannel, his usual work pants and a backwards baseball cap. He shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing up at the sky for a moment before his dark gaze swept across the road.
And I did the first thing I thought. I ducked.
“Oh my—what are you doing? Have you finally lost it?”
I hissed something unintelligible at Margot and wrenched her down to my level. Hidden by chairs, I peered through the window and tried to see where Rhett had gone.
“Who are we hiding from?” Margot whispered. “These shoes aren’t meant for crouching.”
I wanted to slap myself. Rhett was nowhere to be seen. “No one,” I replied, annoyed at the sullen tone in my voice.
