Chapter 5
DARCY
Penn Murphy wason my last nerve. I’d been hoping he would finish his breakfast and mosey on his way, leaving Aveline behind, but apparently, Lettie had another idea.
“You know, the Jelly Bean Festival is tonight in the town square. You should come,” she said after we had finished our breakfast.
Or maybe Lettie had just completely and utterly lost her mind.
I stared at her incredulously while she avoided eye contact. She knew exactly how I would feel about her invitation, which was why she was so expertly looking everywhere but at me. I knew at that moment I was going to disown her. She was no longer the best friend who I had had since I was seventeen; she was now my mortal enemy.
“Oh, yeah? And what does a Jelly Bean Festival entail?” he asked with intrigue.
The Jelly Bean Festival was a tradition in Aveline, much like Aveline Tree Time, the Great Pumpkin Parade, the Cornbread Carnival, the Founder’s Day Reenactment and Party, and the Founder’s Day Festival. Yes, the town had both a spring and fall Founder’s Day celebration. The townspeople of Aveline were really happy about being founded, just not by Penn Murphy.
The Jelly Bean Festival was a celebration of the end of winter with a variety of jelly bean-themed décor and games. The jelly beans represented the many colors of blooming flowers in Aveline, and at the end of the night, a random citizen won a basket of Aveline’s finest foods.
I jumped in. “You would hate it. There are a bunch of really rickety rides that someone puts up in like two hours, and honestly”—I leaned in closer to him as though I were letting him in on a secret—“the jelly beans are always stale. It’s like you’re snacking on waxy cardboard. So, definitely not something you would want.”
“Really rickety rides, huh? Say that five times fast,” he replied, but I ignored him.
“And don’t get me started on the other food. Everything is fried. You might as well just set aside time for a stomach ache and, you know, to gain twenty pounds. What is it they say? Seconds on the lips, forever on the hips?” I cringed. I hated that saying, but I was determined to make him want to be anywhere but the festival. I wanted him to go back where he came from and leave Aveline as a distant memory.
“I actually love fried food,” he said with a smugness in his voice that made me want to come unglued.
I involuntarily moved my eyes to his chest and broad shoulders before lifting my eyes back up. Even in a shirt, you could tell he was not a stranger to the gym. “I doubt that.”
He eyed me, that stupid smirk spreading across his face again. “Oh, yeah? Why is that?”
I pursed my lips, trying to think of why it would be obvious that he didn’t enjoy fried foods aside from his physical stature. I couldn’t very well tell him I had practically undressed him with my eyes and I could picture his physique under his shirt.
“It’s because . . .” I started, “you’re sweaty.”
I never said I was clever under pressure.
A smile grew on Penn’s face. “I’m sweaty, huh?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. I was in this now. No turning back. “Yes.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m not sweaty. Second, what does that have to do with liking fried foods?”
I looked over at Lettie, my eyes asking for help, but she just sat with her chin in hand, watching our back and forth. Why the hell was she being so quiet? Couldn’t she see I was struggling? Instead of helping, she was watching us like a movie. I might as well get her a bowl of popcorn.
“Because sweaty people go to the gym,” I replied hesitantly. I was digging myself a hole. A big hole I couldn’t get out of. I was going to need a ladder.
Penn tilted his head and narrowed his eyebrows. “Sweaty people go to the gym? I don’t think all sweaty people go to the gym, Darcy.”
I needed to find a way to get out of there, so when I spotted Noreen coming around the corner and into the café, I knew it was my cue. Noreen walked inside, her loud blue eyeshadow and orange-tinted skin on full display, sporting a furry white purse on her shoulder.
“Noreen! Hi!” I shouted.
“Darcy, don’t you dare,” Lettie warned.
Oh, now she had something to say.
Penn looked from Lettie to me and then to Noreen. “What’s she doing? Wait… Noreen? The one with the—”
“Noreen! Penn Murphy here loves cats!”
I escaped the diner, leaving Lettie behind to think about her betrayal, and walked across the street to check out the jelly bean explosion. There were games and food trucks, and the “really rickety” rides were already being set up. The Jelly Bean Festival was underway, and up on the podium was the giant basket. I slowed to a creep and stared longingly at the basket. That prize was something I had desperately wanted to win every single year since I was seven. There were donuts and pie from The Baking Tin, homemade blueberry jam that Ruby Walters had been making for the past sixty years, and a beautiful hand-crafted bouquet from Rosie’s flower shop, among other things. It was the epitome of all grand prizes, and despite having lived in Aveline my entire life, I had never won.
I was convinced Mr. Fitzgerald purposely kept me from winning—probably due to my loudmouth at the town meetings—but tonight, I was going to secure my victory. It was more about the principle of winning than the basket itself. I wanted the basket, but I needed the win.