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Shepherdstown was full of artsy weirdos, and she’d come up with ideas like table-read nights, where you show up and it’s first-come, first-serve as to who wants to be part of a table-read of a classic play (something old enough to be in the public domain, of course, so that no royalties needed to be paid out). Other people could watch, and there would be drinks and snacks to be sold the whole time. She also had suggested poetry-reading night, open mic for stand-up comedy, jam band nights, bring-your-own-canvas-and-paint nights.
“The problem with people in Shepherdstown is that they’re always talking about making art, but never making it, because they’re too busy hanging at the bar,” she said. “This gives people a chance to do it and be social.”
She was really smart.
He didn’t think she’d mind it if he was using her ideas, of course, but he wanted to be sure about that. Maybe he could pay her off for it or something. Actually, he would offer, he decided.
His text said,Hey, can I run some things by you about my new restaurant?
She texted back,What? New restaurant?
Yeah,he texted.I guess it’s a long story.
Are you coming to May Day?
I’m working,he said.
I’ll come see you,she said.Tell me then.
xxiii.
MAY DAY WASa tradition in Shepherdstown. There was a May Pole erected on the front lawn of McMurran Hall, which was part of the university, and a group of people did the Maypole dance to weave the ribbons that hung from it. There were lots of girls and women running around in flowing white dresses with flower crowns on their heads. (Dahlia had the flower crown but not the white dress). A group of traditional Irish dancers (some of which were leprechauns but others who were elves and at least one very graceful troll) were always there, first dancing for the crowd, and later scattered about the restaurants and bars, drinking libations. They all wore bells on their boots, so they were distinctive.
Shepherdstown was an any-excuse-for-a-party town, of course.
May Day fit the bill.
Dahlia woke up in her very own apartment that day and looked out over the main street of Shepherdstown and felt happy and free.
Later on, she made it to the sandwich shop, where Niles and Max were both working double time to get sandwiches to the crowd who’d shown up there. It was a perfect day for a picnic, after all, and everyone seemed to think that grabbing sandwiches was a great plan.
Gordon and Will were also in the lobby at The Daily Bread. Gordon was coming in and out from the kitchen, bringing out new sandwiches which he was working on assembling.
Will was shouting at the customers, who stared at him like deer caught in the headlights. “Overhere,” he said to them. “The fucking line needs to starthere.” He pointed at the ground where he was standing, next to the door, with both hands. “Then,” he blustered, gesturing, “it should go around this way, so you can all peruse the sandwich cases on your way to the register. Then you order, and people aren’t coming out of line to look at the sandwiches. It’s also a better use of the space.”
The customers, not at all in the formation he was suggesting, only stared at him, all looking vaguely terrified.
“Move thefuckoverhere,” screamed Will.
The customers began to reshuffle themselves into the line that Will had suggested.
Gordon came through the swinging door. “Sweetheart,” he said, glaring across the counter, “stop yelling.”
“I’m notyelling,” bellowed Will. He threw his hands up. “There’s a right way todothings, Gordon.”
“You’rescaringpeople,” snapped Gordon. “They’re going to leave.”
“I’mgoing to leave,” huffed Will, and threw himself out the door, which jingled.
Gordon shook his head slowly. “I do not knowwhyI stay with that man.”
Dahlia covered her mouth while she giggled, knowing that every place in town would be packed today. It was a feast day, she thought, a day of celebration and togetherness. Even for Will, as grumpy as he was. Even Will needed people, and people allowed for Will’s eccentricities here.
Dahlia used to think that she needed to sacrifice herself to ensure that people would accept her. It was funny, because she’d been vocally against the idea of relationships being transactional, but deep down, she’d been convinced she was too damaged for love and friendship unless she overpaid up front.
Like a lot of things in the world, she’d been desperate to get a thing and worked hard for it, only to realize she’d had it all along and she simply hadn’t been properly looking for it.
There was a reason she’d come to this town, after all.
