“Hey, Vi, hey Everett!” Maddie says, approaching the table. “How has it been so far? It seems busy here already!”
“Maddie, thanks for helping out. It’s been busy, but it seems to be in a lull right now. Are you okay if I go browse for a bit?” I ask.
“Of course, I can handle it here. I’ll see you in a bit. Have fun,” she says, giving me a wink.
She turns to face me. “Walk with me?” she asks. I don’t even hesitate.
We leave the stand in Maddie’s capable hands and step into the slow-moving crowd. Vendors are lined up, someone is playing acoustic guitar near the flower stall, and the smell of grilled sausages fills the air.
“So,” Violet says as we pass a table stacked with honey jars. “Fundraiser update.”
“Ah, yes,” I say. “The terrifying world of event planning.”
“You’re doing great,” she says.
I glance at her.
“You sound confident,” I respond.
“I am.”
I huff a quiet laugh.
“That makes one of us,” I say.
She nudges my arm. “You had the courage to buy an entire theater and rebuild it from scratch. I think you can handle a fundraiser.”
“That’s exactly the kind of thinking that gets people into trouble,” I say. “Usually, when I feel overwhelmed or like I have too much piled on my plate, I tend to pull back and go silent. Not because anything is wrong, mostly because I need time to figure things out and process everything.
“I haven’t noticed you pulling away,” she mentions.
“I haven’t, this whole theater thing has felt natural and not overwhelming. It also helps that this is the only thing for me to focus on. Plus, I have your help.”
She stops walking, turns toward me, and her expression shifts into something serious.
“You know what I think? I think you are a lot braver than you give yourself credit for.”
I don’t answer right away. Because the truth is, she has been the one pushing me. Encouraging me.
Every time I doubted an idea, she told me to try it anyway. Every time I hesitate about the renovations, she reminds me that people love places with character. She has this quiet way of believing in things before they exist. And somehow, she believes in me, too. I think about how she has challenged me to step out of my comfort zone in the theater, made me believe in myself, and shown me that I can do anything.
I reach for her hand. Goosebumps race up my arms, I feel my heartbeat faster, I feel alive. “Thank you, Violet.” I don’t know what else to say. Her telling me I am brave is what you want to hear from someone you like, someone you can see a future with.
She smiles at me, her smile is different, like maybe, just maybe, she feels whatever is happening between us, and doesn’t know what it means yet either.
I let go of her hand, wanting to hold on longer, but I don’t want to scare her away. We resume walking, slower now. More aware of each other.
We pass the stand from Brooks farm, selling beef jerky and different cuts of beef. We pass by the stand with homemade jewelry, and what seems to be Violet’s favorite stand, the one with homemade candles. I take note of the ones she smells a little longer than others.
“Your theater is going to be good for the town,” she says.
“You think so?” I ask.
“I know so.”
She gestures around us.
“You see this? People showing up. Talking. Supporting each other.”
