Page 13

I thought about my empty, functional apartment in Portland and my calendar blocked into productive increments. Every relationship I had was maintained by a scheduled call.

“Then teach me.”

Nora drew a slow breath. “The festival charter lets the co-chairs appoint a site coordinator. We need someone to handle vendor setup, traffic flow, and infrastructure installation. The work is physical, and it will put you beside every merchant on this block.”

“You’re offering me another job?”

“I’m offering you proximity. What you do with it is your choice.”

It was a demotion and we both knew it. I was used to giving directions. Now I’d be taking them.

It was also what I’d asked for. “I’ll do it.”

“You understand that being a co-chair doesn’t put you in charge on site. As coordinator, you take direction from me, the committee, and merchants who still think you came here to bulldoze their livelihoods.”

“I understand.”

“And you’re agreeing anyway.”

“I’m agreeing because you’re giving me what I asked for.” I pushed off the brick wall. “I’ll need vendor setup schedules, site maps, and infrastructure requirements. I’d also appreciate introductions to the merchants I haven’t offended yet.”

“That’s a short list.”

“Then we’ll start there and expand.”

Her shoulders loosened. Apparently, I had passed a test she hadn’t bothered to mention. “Monday morning at seven. We’ll start at the loading dock behind Sweet Provisions and work north.” She checked the bank clock again. “I have two minutes to get back before Jenna has to leave.”

She took one step toward her shop, then turned back. “Frank’s wrong about one thing. You don’t look at Holly Creek like a problem to solve.” She held my gaze. “You look at it like a puzzle you’re desperate to understand. That’s different. That’s why I’m giving you this chance.”

At one fifty-nine, Nora slipped behind the register as her relief clerk came out pulling on her coat. The shop had never closed. Nora disappeared into a building full of lights, displays, and repairs I had come to make.

My phone chimed with a message from Rosie, my operations director.

Rosie

Progress report?

Me

I took a job.

Rosie

You have a job. You own six buildings.

Me

This one’s unpaid and I report to Ms. Winters.

The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, and came back.

Rosie

I’m going to need you to confirm you’re not being held somewhere against your will.

Me

Confirmed.