Chapter Seventeen
Annabelle stared at the to-do list spread across her kitchen table and felt her breath catch in her lungs.
Finalize children's performance choreography
Confirm raffle prize donations
Order refreshments (check dietary requirements)
Print programs
Talk to Arty about sound system
Coordinate volunteers
Keep Gloria from turning this into a three-hour opera
The list went on. And on. And possibly on forever.
Two weeks. The fundraiser was in two weeks, and she had approximately four thousand things left to do, none of which seemed to be getting done despite the fact that she'd been working on the list for what felt like her entire natural life.
She took a sip of tea, cold again, because she kept forgetting to actually drink it, and added another item to the list.
Check in with Jamie
He'd been quieter lately. Well, quieter than usual, which for Jamie meant he was practically invisible. His parents' separation was progressing into something more permanent, and Annabelle had noticed him spending even more time alone at break. She’d canceled the buddy system after her conversation with Raven and hoped that she’d done the right thing.
Maybe she should try and spend more time with him herself, maybe he could become a classroom helper or something.
The fact that she’d made things worse for him still lingered. She’d been honestly trying to help.
She rubbed her eyes. She was doing her best. She really was. But sometimes her best felt like…
Like what?
She shook herself. No. No negative thoughts. Everything was going to be fine. The fundraiser would be brilliant, the children would have a wonderful time, they'd save the library, and Jamie would smile again soon. She just had to keep going. Keep organizing. Keep fixing things.
"You look exhausted."
Annabelle jumped, nearly knocking over her mug. Lily stood in the doorway, letting herself in with the spare key Annabelle had given her for emergencies.
"I'm fine," Annabelle said automatically, straightening up and attempting what she hoped was a bright smile. "Just planning. Lots to do. Very exciting."
Lily came fully into the kitchen and sat down across from her, studying her with an expression that meant Annabelle was about to get The Talk.
"Annabelle."
"Lily."
"Why do you do this to yourself?"
"Do what?" Annabelle asked, though she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what.
"This." Lily gestured at the table, the lists, the schedules, the three different notebooks all open to pages covered in Annabelle's slightly manic handwriting.
"You're running yourself into the ground.
You're barely sleeping. You're managing every single detail of this fundraiser while still teaching full-time and trying to help every child who needs it. "
"Someone has to," Annabelle said, hearing the defensive edge in her own voice. "The fundraiser won't organize itself."
"No, but you have a committee. You have volunteers. You don't have to do everything."
"I'm not doing everything."
Lily raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not," Annabelle insisted. "Gloria's handling the performance, Blossom's managing the raffle, Daisy's done all the publicity…"
"And you're coordinating all of them, plus managing the children's rehearsals, plus checking every single detail five times, plus staying up until midnight painting signs and organizing donation boxes."
Annabelle looked down at her tea. "I just want it to be perfect."
"Why?"
"Because…" She trailed off. Because the library mattered. Because the children deserved it. Because if she could just make this work, if she could just save this one thing, then maybe…
"Because what if it's not enough?" The words came out quieter than she'd intended. "What if we don't raise the money? What if the library closes anyway? What if I've put everyone through all of this and it doesn't make any difference?"
"Annabelle," Lily's voice was gentle now. "You can't control everything. You can't fix everything."
"I know that." Except she didn't really believe it, did she? She'd spent her whole life believing that if you just tried hard enough, if you were kind enough, if you smiled through the difficult bits, everything would work out fine in the end.
But lately, she was starting to wonder.
"You're allowed to be tired," Lily said. "You're allowed to ask for help. You're allowed to admit when something is too much."
"I'm fine," Annabelle said again, but this time her voice cracked slightly on the word.
Lily reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You don't have to be fine all the time, you know."
Annabelle felt tears prickling behind her eyes and blinked them back determinedly. "The fundraiser is in two weeks. I just need to get through the next two weeks, and then everything will be… it'll be fine. It will."
Lily looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she just squeezed Annabelle's hand again and stood up. "I'm making you dinner. Proper dinner. And you're going to eat it and go to bed at a reasonable hour."
"I have lists to finish…"
"The lists can wait."
"But…"
"Annabelle." Lily's voice was firm. "The lists can wait."
Annabelle wanted to argue, but she was so tired.
Bone-deep tired in a way that sleep didn't seem to fix anymore.
So instead she just nodded and watched as Lily moved around her kitchen with familiar ease, pulling out ingredients and chattering about something that had happened at school that Annabelle only half-heard.
She looked back down at her list. So many things still to do. So many ways this could go wrong.
What if all her effort wasn't enough? What if she couldn't actually fix anything?
She took a breath and reminded herself of what she'd always believed: if you looked for the brightness, you'd find it. The fundraiser would be wonderful. The library would be saved. Everything would work out.
It had to.
LATER THAT NIGHT, after Lily had fed her shepherd's pie and forced her to promise to get at least seven hours of sleep, Annabelle lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
She should be exhausted. She was exhausted. But her mind wouldn't stop spinning through tomorrow's tasks, next week's preparations, all the things that could go wrong.
Jamie's withdrawn little face kept appearing in her thoughts. The way he'd looked when she'd told him the buddy system was ending. Had she made the right choice? Had she helped him at all, or had she just made everything worse?
And Raven. Raven who was helping with the fundraiser despite the paparazzi, despite the tabloids, despite everything. Raven who'd taught Jamie guitar and made him smile. Raven who was somehow becoming…
Becoming what?
Annabelle rolled over, punching her pillow into a better shape. She was too tired to think about this now. Too tired to examine the complicated feelings that seemed to be tangling themselves around her heart whenever she thought about her grumpy, impossible, surprisingly kind neighbor.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she looked for the brightness, she'd find it. That's what she always told herself. That's what had gotten her through every difficult moment in her life.
If she just kept looking for the brightness, everything would be fine.
She was about to drift off when she realized something.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Annabelle opened her eyes, frowning slightly. Usually by this time of night, she could hear Raven next door, the distant sound of guitar, the low thump of bass through the walls. It had become oddly comforting, actually. A reminder that someone else was awake, working, creating.
But tonight there was nothing.
Complete silence.
She sat up slowly, listening. When was the last time it had been this quiet? Raven always played at night. Always. It was practically a guarantee at this point. Even on the nights when Annabelle was dead tired and just wanted to sleep, there was always music drifting through the walls.
But not tonight.
Nothing.
Annabelle felt her heart start to race, a cold prickle of fear running down her spine. What if something was wrong? What if Raven was hurt?
She tried to shake off the thought. This was silly. Raven was fine. She was probably just having a quiet night. Maybe she'd gone to bed early. Maybe she was reading. Maybe she'd decided to give Annabelle a break from the noise for once.
But the silence pressed in on her, wrong and unsettling.
What if it wasn't fine? What if something had actually happened?
Nina's photo had gone viral, everyone knew where Raven was staying now. What if some crazed fan had tracked her down? What if someone had shown up at her door? What if Raven was in trouble?
Annabelle's mind spiraled through increasingly horrible possibilities. An intruder. A stalker. Someone from the press who'd gotten too aggressive. Raven was famous, and fame came with dangers that Annabelle had never had to think about before.
She threw back the covers.
This was probably ridiculous. This was almost definitely an overreaction. Raven was fine. Of course she was fine.
But… but what if she wasn't?
Annabelle couldn't just lie here wondering. She couldn't just assume everything was okay when her gut was screaming at her that something was wrong.
She grabbed her dressing gown, shoving her arms through the sleeves as she hurried down the stairs.
Her heart was hammering now, her breath coming quick and shallow.
She told herself she was being silly, told herself she was overreacting, told herself that Raven was going to answer the door looking annoyed and ask what the hell she wanted.
But she couldn't shake the fear.
She burst out of her front door into the cool night air, not bothering with shoes, just running across the grass in her slippers. Raven's cottage was dark except for one light in what Annabelle thought might be the living room.
She reached the door and pounded on it. Hard.
"Raven?" Her voice came out higher than she'd intended. "Raven, are you there?"
Nothing.
She knocked again, louder this time, panic rising in her chest.
"Raven, please! If you're in there…"
Still nothing. No sound. No movement. Just silence.
She banged on the door again, properly scared now.
"Raven!"
No answer.