Frank waved from the crowd. “Can you get the booths to town in time?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No question.”
Then, finally, the crowd broke out into excited hoots and applause. Rhett and I stared at each other from over everyone’s heads, identical smiles on our mouths. Beneath it all, I wanted to run and jump into his arms—but, even though he’d chosen the festival, three thousand miles still separated us.
I forced myself to look away.
Margot and Rachel flanked me as a steady stream of residents, shopkeepers, and teenagers funneled toward us for direction. I assigned Wyatt and Kenzie the task of making signs to re-direct traffic to Main Street, and instructed a few other high schoolers to help by setting out cones from the driver’s ed class. After the principal unlocked the gymnasium doors, we began loading up cars with supplies and started the process of moving it all to the center of town.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Frank and Rhett piled into his truck and drove away. My heart sank just a fraction.
“Mr. Henderson!” I shouted, catching up to the portly man as he pushed a cart laden with boxes outside.
He grunted in response, leaned against the handlebar, and pushed his salt-and-pepper hair back.
“You’re normally in charge of the lights on Main Street.” I clasped my hands together and tucked them under my chin. “What are the chances you could… do it in half a day?” The last words came out as a squeak.
Mr. Henderson sighed. “How did I know you’d ask?”
I grinned.
“Get me some volunteers, and I’ll do my best, okay?”
That was all I needed to hear.
Later, I watched from Margot’s car as the principal locked the gymnasium doors and hustled to her car. We sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us covered in some degree of sweat or grime, my hair in complete disarray.
I emptied the last bit of my mocha, cold but still delicious, and patted my knees.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
At midday, the scent of pies overwhelmed Main Street all the way from the plaza. A few stores saw a trickle of tourists as they arrived for the contest, mostly young families with excited children perched on their shoulders. One couple passed me and mentioned how excited they were to be back in Bluebell Cove, their eyes sparkling as they took in the wave of people preparing the street for that night.
It took an entire hour to help unload a truck bed bursting with jars of honey, boxes of beeswax candles and honeycomb-themed soap bars. My sweater clung to my skin and I could tell my face was bright red. Curls on my neck stuck to the pool of sweat formed on my back.
Agatha, our resident bee farmer, thanked me with a powerful handshake and a lip balm for my pocket. I promptly retreated to the shade and began fanning myself.
Margot had spent a good chunk of the morning helping me track down vendors and ensuring they knew where to go. Now that the festival would begin in only a few hours, their trucksputtered down the road, a parade of colors in all shapes and sizes lining Harbor Street. Typically used for rides, now we had much of it corded off for carnival-themed games and food. Just beyond, in the sand of Seaglass Beach, Rhett and Frank had set up a veritable sea of wooden tables and plastic folding chairs.
Now, the pair worked down Main painstakingly piecing booths together. Rhett said it was faster to transport them disassembled, but every time I glanced over, a fresh chill of panic twisted my stomach.
I heard Margot’s heels before I saw her. “What are you doing?” she asked, sipping what must’ve been Cameron’s final coffee before closing the Morning Bell.
“Trying not to die of heat exhaustion in this,” I responded, airing out my sweater.
Margot’s eyes shifted suspiciously before landing back on me. “How about we get you home?”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Do you see this?” Wiping some sweat from my forehead, I took the opportunity to quietly motion to Mr. Henderson, who only had half of Main Street draped in lights despite the team I’d formed for him. “I can’t leave now. Not whennothingis done.”
“Really?” She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Are you going to balance on top of that twelve-foot ladder? Or maybe you’ll help Rhett with the power tools and sharp objects?” Margot snorted and braced her hand against the wall beside me.
I frowned, even though it rang true. “I just helped Agatha unload her truck. There will be more.”
Margot waved a hand at me. “Oh, please. Ten other people are here just milling about with nothing better to do.”
“I’m the community eventsleader, Margot. I can’t—”
