“I hear you. These things can get boring.”
Just then, a throat cleared from behind him.
We turned to see Eloise Carter dressed in one of her uptight skirt suits, holding a file folder, likely containing the contents of tonight’s agenda.
Unbothered, Brady greeted the elderly woman like he hadn’t just been saying how terrible her meetings were. “Well, hello there, Ms. Carter. Would you like a brownie? I made them myself.”
She sniffed. “No, thank you. I have a boring meeting to get started.”
Eloise clipped away on her heels.
Brady and I shared a look.
“Smooth,” I offered.
Brady chuckled. “Ah, well. She’s never liked me. I kicked a soccer ball into her award-winning roses when I was ten. She’s been holding it against me ever since.”
“That feels on brand.”
“Well, I’d better get up there.” His hands were full of brownies wrapped in napkins. “See you, Jack.”
Eloise Carter was just tapping the microphone on the podium when Brady slid into his seat. I watched him pass out his baked goods, noting that Bonnie shook her head, declining the offer before facing forward.
I guess if it wasn’t a Pop-Tart, she didn’t want it.
The meeting passed slowly. It was basically a rundown of sponsorship, fundraising, and volunteer opportunities for the fourth quarter. The Orchard Festival was over, but there would be plenty of events for local business owners to participate in between now and the first of the year, the Holiday Jamboree encompassing a lot of that.
“And next month,” Eloise said succinctly, “we have trick-or-treating on Main Street. Candy donations are needed.”
The woman made sudden, meaningful eye contact with me in the back of the room. If she thought her steely glare was going to faze me, she was mistaken.
I ignored her. I was still in the middle of the last thing she’d strong-armed me into.
Luckily, Bonnie piped up from the front row. “I can do that. I’ll make sure to get options for kids with dietary restrictions.”
“Thank you, Bonnie,” Eloise said, her tone superior.
I nearly rolled my eyes. Here Bonnie was, not even a business owner, getting guilted into participating. She just couldn’t say no. The people-pleasing gene was too strong in her.
The meeting wrapped up shortly thereafter. Neighbors stood and mingled.
A small crowd flocked to the Clarks in the first row, Bonnie surrounded by her adoring fans. I didn’t see any khaki-wearing principals, so at least there was that.
I loitered, unsure why I had the urge to stay. There was a moment when I considered going to say hi to Bonnie. You know, in person instead of texting her like a coward. But it was pretty crowded at the front of the meeting space. Plus, I had no idea what I’d even say.How are you? Are you sleeping okay? Want to text later and learn more about each other in bite-sized increments?
Or,Hey, you probably know more about me than anyone on the planet, and how pathetic is that?
A rush of people made for the refreshments, and I sidestepped them, not wanting to lose a limb.
I was ready to turn and walk out the door, but then Sheila Jessup—another local busybody and gossipmonger—shifted, revealing Bonnie. And the look on her face had me pausing. I straightened, scrutinizing.
Maybe I was imagining it, but something about Bonnie’s body language was like a flower wilting, closing in on itself.
Before I’d given myself permission, I was making my way across the room, mumbling excuse mes and avoiding curious gazes. I kept my attention on Bonnie. I could see the discomfort on her face morphing slowly but surely to panic. It was like watching a trauma response in real time.
Someone stepped on my boot, and I ignored it, looking for Judd or Mac or someone. Why was no one stepping in to help Bonnie?
As I drew closer, I heard snippets of conversation from Sheila. “Well, we’ve been awfully concerned. We hoped you and Danny could work things out.”
