“Hey now, what did I walk into?” Rachel cut in, hands on her hips. “I was gone for two minutes.”
“Georgie won’t admit that she has feelings for—”
“Shutup, Margot,” I snapped, flushing as the conversations around us seemed to hush. Or maybe I had been imagining it again. The two studied me as I dumped my face in my palms and groaned. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”
Margot laughed—the second real one I’d heard since she returned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Half of my job involves getting my head bitten off. That wasnothing.”
I didn’t realize Rachel disappeared until she returned with a hefty ham-and-cheese croissant. “You need to eat something,” she declared as she slid the plate to me.
My eyes drifted from the half-drunk latte to the pastry. “I can’t pay you for any of this,” I mumbled guiltily. Marigold’s hadn’t been open in days, and I had no idea when the repairswould be done. That would require texting a certain someone—or, worse, seeing him face-to-face.
Rachel waved her hand. “That doesn’t matter.”
I wanted to say that it did—to me. But I couldn’t muster up the words that I didn’t even understand.
Silently, Margot slipped her card across the counter. “Put it all on mine. Seriously.”
Unwanted tears pricked my eyes, but I buried myself in the croissant instead.
When I finished—in record time—I emptied my mug and sunk into the stool, satisfied. Maybe all my problems reallycouldbe solved by some espresso and a snack. The light seemed warmer, the whispers quieter, and my head finally felt like it had been screwed on.
“Well, I don’t know what this person— whatClaireis going to do, but there’s still so much that needs to be done.” They watched me with thinly veiled concern as I sent them a wide grin. “We’ve got a week and a half. Let’s get to work.”
The click of Margot’s heels followed me out the door.
???
By midmorning, chaos reigned in Ruth’s upstairs office once again.
Sticky notes blanketed the desk like a neon blizzard. Ruth’s old computer was on the verge of overheating. Margot’s spreadsheets multiplied whenever I turned, morphing into my own personal bedtime monster.
“Mrs. Henderson, Ipromisewe’ll have gluten-free options,” I said into the phone, my pacing probably having worn a path in Ruth’s rug. “No, I can’t guarantee funnel cake. But—hello? Mrs. Henderson?”
The line went dead. I pressed my palm to my forehead and groaned.
Margot didn’t look up from her laptop. “That’s the third one today.”
“The third Mrs. Henderson?”
“The third person to hang up on you. Although, honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her to call under aliases.” She jabbed her stylus at the screen. “And in the meantime, the popcorn guy’s still out. The snow cone lady’s machine is beyond repair. And the churro cart won’t evenconsiderdriving to the Cove if there’s rain in the forecast.”
I dropped into the chair across her side of the desk and buried my face in my hands. “I hate to say this, but Claire better be a miracle worker.”
“If the two of us can’t figure it out, she’s going to have to be.” Margot’s tone was clipped, but it softened as she continued, “Hey, breathe. We’ll figure it out.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Rhett leaned in, holding two coffees. His shoulders filled the doorway, and he appeared about as confident as a stilt walker with acrophobia. “Uh. Hi.”
Avoiding him was going to be impossible if he kept showing up wherever I was.
Margot’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Well, if it isn’t ourRenaissanceman.”
I wrapped my arms around my knees, heart rate pounding uncomfortably.
“I thought you might need a refill,” he said, setting one cup in front of me even as I didn’t meet his gaze.
I muttered thanks, not daring to look up as our fingers brushed across the plastic cup.
