My heart pounded against the walls of my bodice as I finished speaking, and I found myself wishing I’d taken it off completely before I’d lit into Simon. Loosened or not, I was a little light-headed from ripping him a new one.

He opened his mouth, closed it again. He looked from me to Stacey, then over to Jamie, who had locked up the cashbox and was leaving to take it up front, completely unconcerned about the costume drama happening in front of him. “See you next week,” Jamie said with a little wave, rubbing in the fact that none of this shit concerned him. I envied him. Could we trade places? Could I wrangle him into a corset next week and take his red T-shirt? Probably not.

The three of us watched him walk away, then turned back to each other. But the moment had passed.

“Are we done?” Now the fight had gone out of me, leaving exhaustion in its wake. My feet were killing me from standing all day, and I wanted to go home. I wanted a shower, and I wanted my bed.

Simon wasn’t looking at me. He was looking around the tavern as though he’d never seen the place before. “Yeah,” he finally said. He rubbed the back of his neck, then ran a hand down one bristled cheek. “Yeah,” he said again. “We’re done.”

“Good.” Now that I wasn’t actively angry at him, I could see he looked as tired as I felt. Of course he was—he’d spent the day performing, and he was also one of the point people for the whole event. Most of the Faire’s success or failure rested directly on him. It was a heavy burden.

But he didn’t have to carry it alone. I wasn’t about to suggest anything to his face, because he’d probably shoot down any idea I had. But that didn’t mean I was going to sit on my hands, either.

I turned to Stacey. “We’ll get this figured out, okay? I promise, you’re not going to miss pub sing for the entire summer.” She gave me a tired smile in response, and that was good enough for me. “I have to go find Caitlin, but I’ll think about it this week and figure out what we need to do better. I’ll text you, okay?”

As I headed back to the Hollow to collect my niece, I wondered how this had happened. Of the three of us standing there in that tavern, I was the youngest. I was the stranger in town, and I was the newbie to the Faire. Yet somehow making the tavern run smoothly had fallen on my shoulders.

But I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t feel a thrill in my chest at the prospect. Simon was overworked, and Stacey seemed to be in over her head. But me . . . my shoulders were made for this kind of thing. This was how I could contribute to the Faire, even more than wearing a spleen-squeezing costume and serving beer. I could do this, and maybe then I’d belong in Willow Creek too.

Ten

After a handful of Advil for dinner and a good night’s sleep, I felt a lot more human by the time I met Chris at the bookstore on Monday morning. While I could walk without limping, I was still exhausted from two days of being outside in the woods and on my feet all day. But she had asked me to come to the shop on Monday, the day it was usually closed, so I figured she wouldn’t say that unless she was serious. I arrived at ten in the morning with my trusty travel mug of coffee. When I got there she was just unlocking the front door.

“How do you stay open during Faire weekends?” It hadn’t occurred to me until just now that she probably couldn’t be in two places at once.

“My daughter’s home from college for the summer. Nicole keeps the place running on the weekends so I can be Queen.”

I followed her in, the bell over the door chiming in our wake. “That’s a very understanding daughter.”

Chris chuckled and flipped on some of the lights, enough that we could see, but not enough to signal that the store was open. “She has her moments.” She put her purse down on the front counter and turned to me. “So let’s get back to what you were saying the other day. About turning the back of the shop into a café?”

“Okay.” I couldn’t help the smile that came over my face. I was ready for this. “I have so many ideas.”

I outlined them to her. A couple tables. Some cozy, comfy chairs designed to let people linger. An employee to man the counter and help in the store itself if the café wasn’t busy. Start a book club to meet once a month, maybe a writers’ group too. Maybe even a small menu: chicken salad, cheese and fruit plates. Simple food that wouldn’t be a chore to make every day, and then she could still be creative with whatever desserts she felt like providing.

The more I talked, the more and more excited she looked. “Amazing,” she said. “It’s like you read my mind. That’s exactly the kind of thing I wanted to do a few years back, but it seemed so overwhelming to do it on my own.”

“You’re not on your own now,” I said. “You’ve got me through the end of the summer. What can I do?”

I’d always thought her smile was kind and genuine, but when it was aimed directly at me it warmed my soul. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess there’s no time like the present.” Before the words were out of her mouth she was halfway to the back room, and she returned a few moments later, juggling a handful of empty boxes. “There are more back there. Grab ’em and let’s get started.”

I knew better than to argue with the Queen.

My sore muscles groaned, but I did my best to throw myself into packing books into boxes and moving bookcases around. I couldn’t believe how sore Chris didn’t look by comparison. But then again, she was used to those weekends in the woods. Maybe in a few years I wouldn’t be praying for death at the end of each weekend . . . that thought stopped me short. A few years? What was I thinking? I was only here for a few more weeks. Once Faire was over, I needed to start thinking about moving on with my own life. But that prospect gave me heart palpitations, so I concentrated on what was in front of me: hauling around bookcases with an ersatz Queen Elizabeth.

“How do we get the word out about a book club?” With her hands on her hips Chris surveyed the space we’d cleared out, but obviously she could think about more than one thing at a time.

“Oh, that’s easy. We’ll announce it on your social media pages. Create an event. Then post links to it in some strategic places . . .” My voice trailed off as she shook her head with a blank expression, and I bit back a sigh. “You don’t have any social media pages, do you?” Now it was my turn to put my hands on my hips. “You have a website, at least? Right?”

“Sure. For online orders and such. But it’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone anyway. So I always figured, what’s the point of all that social media stuff?”

I inhaled through my nose, very slowly. “For starters, that’s how you tell everyone about a book club.” That came out a little snippier than I’d intended, but thankfully she laughed to concede my point. No big deal. I’d get those pages set up for her too.

At lunchtime we took a break to order some sandwiches from the deli down the street. By then, the space we had cleared out was huge. Maybe too huge.

“We can put some of these bookcases back, you know.” I bit into my Reuben and closed my eyes in bliss. The guy down the street knew how to make a sandwich. “You don’t need to keep this space completely empty.”

She considered from her spot, cross-legged on the floor. I envied her. She was old enough to be my mother, but if I tried getting down on the floor like that I didn’t think I’d get up again.

“No, but you don’t want to hem people in, either. They should feel welcome to hang out, not feel claustrophobic.” She gestured toward the front. “Those windows up front are so big and let in so much light, but the bookcases blocked all the light from coming back here. See how much more open it looks now?”

I had to admit, she had a point. “Just as long as you still have somewhere to keep your inventory. I mean, this is a bookstore.”

“We could get some shorter ones, maybe bar height? Then they could serve a dual purpose.”

“Now you’re talking.” I popped the last of my sandwich in my mouth and crumpled up the waxed paper it had come in.

“Speaking of bars, I meant to ask. How are you enjoying Faire so far?”

I groaned as I got to my feet. “I’m not sure if ‘enjoying’ is the word I would use.” While I practically did a backbend to stretch out my back, I filled her in on the craziness of the past couple days, how I’d been run off my feet to the point of pain.

Her brow furrowed. “That doesn’t sound right. You should be able to take breaks, walk around. See some of the shows and enjoy yourself.”

“Stacey said that too, but I don’t see how it’s possible. I barely had time to eat something.” Indeed, I had never wolfed down chicken fingers so fast as I had the previous day.

We moved over to a bookcase we’d emptied and together we started moving it toward the side of the shop. Without the books in it, the bookcase was . . . well, it was still heavy as hell, but the two of us were able to manage.

But Chris’s mind was still on Faire. “I don’t like the idea of you being worked to death like that. I mean, you’re a volunteer. Hell, we’re all volunteers. We do this because we enjoy it, you know? I wonder if Stacey . . . wait.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s just you and Stacey, right? Two wenches this year?” She smiled in triumph. “Well, there you go. Last year there were four.”