I walked away beforeIcould change my mind; beforeIcould do something stupid.Thenight air was cool against my skin asImade my way to the car park, the sound of music and laughter from the festival growing fainter with each step.
I had four hours of driving ahead of me, through the countryside in the dark, just me and my thoughts and the growing certainty thatIwas doing everything terribly wrong.Butit was better than the alternative.Safer, anyway.Evenif it felt like running away.
Chapter26
Chloe
We were officially a month out from theGwenynenCultureFestival, andIhad seven million things and counting on my ever-growing to-do list.Therewere vendors to wrangle, schedules to perfect and communicate, and constant social promotion to pump out.I’deven had to deal with a rider from one of the bands, a local group of teenagers who apparently fancied themselves asOasisor some shit.I’dhad to write back explaining that no, we couldn’t provideMoët&Chandonon ice in their “dressing room”, because, first, it wasn’t in the budget; second, there were no dressing rooms, unless they counted the grimy bathroom in the corner of the barn; and third, most of the band members were under eighteen.
The response to the event had been incredible– at almost exactly one month out, we sold our last ticket.Iwas actually starting to worry about capacity, fretting constantly thatI’dmiscalculated, both in terms of physical space and our ability to handle the crowds with our current food and beverage vendors.Onthe other hand,Iwas getting messages at least once an hour asking if there would be more tickets, or if there would be space for walk-ins, and part of me was tempted to try to find space for more so we could bring in a bit more revenue.Butthe anxiety won out in the end.
Teddy seemed busy, too, though she was less involved in the spreadsheets and more focused on the farm.Shewas fretting about potential mite infestations after a nearby apiary had reported problems.WhenIoffered to help, she politely declined, and she didn’t offer any assistance with my festival preparations, either.Shewas clearly keeping her distance, andIgot the sense we’d drawn a line in the sand at some point thatIhadn’t been aware of.
Jen, on the other hand, was incredibly involved.She’dbecome my main source of content as she started the first batch of mead from the summer honey, andIwas learning so much about the commercial side of production thatIfelt likeIcould do it myself.NotthatIwanted to– as much asIloved being adjacent to the mead-making,I’dlearned over the last few months that the actual making wasn’t for me.I’dhappily yap about it on social media or to a customer at a festival, but you could miss me with the sludgy dead yeast and fruit sediment that had to be purged during racking.
“You should shadow me more closely when it’s time for the autumn batch,”Jensaid one afternoon as we filmed her testing specific gravity levels. “Ifyou want to, that is.It’sa really fun process, and it might make for good content.”
My heart skipped a beat.Iwas excited by the implication thatI’dstill be around in the autumn, and thenIwas annoyed with myself that my first thought was what that meant forTeddy.
“Jen,”Isaid carefully, remembering my last conversation with her about this, bolstered by how candidly she’d answered me then, “would you bringTeddyon full time?Ifwe had enough money?”
She answered straight away. “Ina heartbeat.Everyday she’s not here,I’mworse off, both personally and logistically.Butwe just don’t have enough consistent revenue.Notyet.”
“But what about the grant?Youused it to hire me, right?Didyou not think about hiring her instead?”
Jen smiled softly. “HiringTeddywith that money was never an option.Itwas a local grant, so it specified that all hires must be local.Butthat’s okay– the current arrangement works well enough for now.Iknow she wants to be here, but it’s just not possible yet.”
I nodded, but something about that assessment felt wrong.Fromwhat she’d told me, it didn’t seem like the current arrangement did work forTeddy.Shewanted to be here, not just half the time but always.DidJennot see that?
“And don’t undersell yourself,”Jensaid, resuming her work. “Yourideas were whyIhired you, andI’mgladIdid.Lookhow well you’ve done!Ourfirst event is a sold-out success!”
“Touch wood,”Isaid, stretching down to tap my knuckles against my stool. “Ihaven’t pulled it off yet.”
“Just think,”Jensaid, ignoring my worry. “Ifwe can create more success for the business, maybe soonIcan afford to bringTeddyon, too.”
I swallowed hard.Ididn’t love feeling directly responsible for gettingTeddywhat she wanted.ButJenwasn’t wrong.Ifwe could pull off the event and get the ball rolling, maybe get a series of events and similar revenue streams off the ground, we really could grow the farm.
“I just don’t like seeing her hurt,”Isaid.Jentutted her agreement.
“She’s got a honey-glazed heart, that one.That’swhat her mom always said.”
It was a funny expression, butIagreed.Andif doing my job well was what would protect her heart, thenIwould give it my all.Ialready was; at the end of each day, when my to-do list was slightly more tamed andIcould go to sleep satisfied,I’dbeen thinking of new ideas– new ways to bring people toGwenynenand let them fall in love with the place that was starting to feel like home.Retreats.Morecourses.Evenprivate events like weddings.Eventswould scale much better than food and beverage production, especially if we established some of the partnershipsI’dbeen exploring.
There was so much possibility, but the stakes had never been higher.AndifI’dhad that thought six months ago, afterTeddyhad torn me a new one at theRenFaireandI’dspent the next few weeks spiralling, it would have had me crawling into a hole with nothing but mySwitchand a takeaway carton.
But now … nowIwas surprised to find thatImight actually be up for the challenge.Especiallyif it meantIhad even the slightest chance to giveTeddywhat she wanted.
* * *
Before the big festival,TeddyandIhad two more weekend events to work together: a medieval festival the week before, and before that still, a wedding in thePeakDistrict.Teddyhad arranged a contract with a venue there, and she’d offered to personally work the bar at the first event to sweeten the deal.Whichapparently meantwehad to work the bar.
As we loaded kegs into the van,Itried not to think about how difficult it was to be aroundTeddy.Iwas both perpetually annoyed and constantly, embarrassingly horny.Ihadn’t slept with anyone sinceNewYear’s, whenLaurenandIhad finally split for good.Laurenhad actually texted me again the night before, clearly looking for a booty call, butI’dresisted.Iknew myself well enough now to knowIwas incapable of separating sex from feelings, and the last thingIneeded was to complicate my already precarious emotional state.
Not thatIcould stop my imagination from sprinting in that direction every chance it got.Ithad gotten carried away more than once, as recently as last night, whenI’dlain in bed in the shepherd’s hut picturingTeddyjust metres away in the main house.Whathad she worn to bed?Howwould she feel beneath me?Ontop of me?Insi?—
No,Ihad to shut off that train of thought as quickly asIcould, lestIget carried away with myself.
The drive was long but uneventful, spent mostly in companionable silence as we listened to music– her playlist this time, though it was unbelievably similar to mine.Whenwe checked in, it turned out we’d been allocated adjoining rooms, which felt both intimate and torturous.Iwasn’t sure howIwas going to handle being separated fromTeddyby nothing more than a thin wall.Butthat was a problem for later.
