Page 3 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

“Of course I’m right,” Ava says with a nod.

“I’ll forget it.”

Ava watches my hand close around the phone. Jake watches. The silence between them contains an entire private conversation, most of which appears to concern my face.

“What?” I ask.

Ava puts down her coffee. “I didn’t say you shouldn’t go.”

“You said the timing is terrible.”

“It is.”

“You make terrible sound discouraging.”

“I make everything sound discouraging. It saves time.”

Jake nods. “That’s true.”

She ignores him. “How many days would you need away?”

“Thursday through Sunday. Possibly Wednesday afternoon if they allow early setup.”

“Apply.”

I blink at her. “Really?”

“You’ve covered for me when I needed you. I can arrange temporary help for four days.”

“The festival may not accept me this late.”

“Then it won’t matter that you applied.”

“The fee could be unreasonable.”

“Find out before you pay it.”

“I would have to prepare a great deal of inventory.”

Ava picks up the tray of unglazed muffins. “You have nine days and access to a commercial kitchen after closing. As long as you don’t manufacture anything toxic near the food.”

“My products aren’t toxic.”

“You once left a jar labeled Deadly Nightshade beside the vanilla.”

“It was an empty decorative jar.”

Jake glances at me and subtly points toward my phone.

“Apply, Loralee.”

I open the festival link. The application is shorter than I expected. Contact information. Product categories. Booth dimensions. Electricity requirements. Proof of insurance. Photographs of prior displays. The final box asks why I believe my business would be a good fit for the Cady Springs Autumn Festival.

I type:

My work helps people slow down, reconnect with themselves, and carry a little warmth into the colder season.

That sounds respectable. I add: