Chapter Four Jess
Chapter Four
Jess
Returning to her office from lunch with the dean, Jess felt her phone begin buzzing away in her pocket. She slid it onto her desk, but she didn’t recognize the number and let the call go to voicemail as she shook the mouse to wake up her computer. When the notification popped up, she listened to the message on speaker.
“Hi? Jess? This is Wendy Davis, the president of the Folk School. We met briefly on Saturday. We’re having an organizational meeting about the Renaissance Faire this evening and after speaking with Ned, I was hoping that you could join us. I’m swamped today so you can just text me to confirm if you can make it tonight at seven. At the School. Thanks.”
Ned must have told her about Jess’s research background. She’d already shared with him that she taught Greek through Renaissance Women’s History. It would be logical for Wendy to think that Jess could contribute to the accuracy of the event. She mindlessly clicked on a new email in her inbox. Historical accuracy wasn’t the most important thing at a Renaissance Faire, though. She’d learned that lesson with Cassie.
Clearing her throat, Jess reached for her mug while opening the attached pdf in the email. Then she glanced into the mug because it didn’t feel right.
Of course, I need to make the tea before I can drink it .
She got up from her desk and went over to the electric kettle she’d placed with a few boxes of tea on top of a low bookshelf. Electric kettles had become an indispensable part of her life in England, and now she was taking comfort in having one in her new life that was coming together differently than planned.
“A market, a feast day, festive, joyous,” Cassie had once said years ago, looking up from the etymological definition of “faire.” “Not a history lesson with an exam at the end, Ms. Professor.”
And so Jess had relinquished a bit of her need for historical accuracy in all things and gone along with her whimsy-loving sister to the Bristol Renaissance Faire at least two weekends of each summer that she’d been an undergrad. It hadn’t really been a surprise that Cassie came to love Renaissance Faires. She’d always been the “fairy tale” sister, Jess the “feet squarely on the ground” one.
The gurgling kettle caught her attention. Once she had a new cup of tea steeping, Jess returned to her desk, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, trying to expel the new ache in her lower back along with the air. Even though the connection to Cassie might make it strange, she could do a bit of consulting for the Folk School if that would help. She could probably just go to this organizational meeting, give her two cents, and then get out of the way. She picked up her phone and opened her texting app.
Jess:
Hi Wendy. Happy to help. See you at seven—Jess
—
While she couldn’t yet say that the Folk School felt like a place that was hers, pulling into the much emptier parking area felt right. Certainly much better than it had when she’d arrived for the open house. After finding a safer-feeling spot beside a silver truck, she walked inside briskly. She’d gotten a bit held up at work and again at home and was a few minutes late. Following voices down a side hallway, she knocked on the slightly ajar door of a classroom and pushed it open.
“Jess, wonderful, so glad you’re here,” Wendy said from the head of an oval-shaped table.
“Sorry I’m late,” Jess said.
Wendy waved a hand in the air and shook her head.
“Please, have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the only open spot. Directly across from Mo, the Ax Murderer. Jess sat after a quick gulp, returning the nods of everyone else at the table. Where the others seemed engaged—leaning forward, forearms resting on the table, or flashing bright smiles and open expressions—the vibe she got from Mo was…threatened hedgehog? His back was pressed firmly against his chair, arms crossed tightly, his bearded chin tucked down into his chest. He glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye and his lips pulled lightly to the side as he nodded at her.
Was that a smile?
She gave him a brief smile back. He returned his attention to Wendy, and his face shifted back into its previous expression. Jess realized it was not anger, as she’d initially read, but wariness. Getting settled into her seat, she took another look around at the others. Ned was notably absent.
“Yes,” Wendy said. “While I tried to present this as a fun way to make our name known in the community, during the planning process we need to keep the stakes in mind. If we don’t replace the funding we’ve lost, the School is going to close, plain and simple.”
The clutching sensation she’d felt when Ned introduced her to Mo snapped itself around Jess’s heart again. She’d need to do a whole lot more research in order to be up to the task of consulting if the School was at risk. It was one thing for her to potentially lose a place that she’d just begun to enjoy. But based on the gasps and fearful expressions, the School meant much more to the people around this table. She didn’t feel equipped to manage the pressure of potentially letting them down.
“Let’s not be all doom and gloom,” said a man with an open laptop in front of him in the seat beside Wendy. His face was familiar, a little snarky and self-satisfied-looking. She remembered that Ned had steered her away from him the other day. “This is going to be a blast,” he said. “We can create a magical world and draw people in. We have all sorts of skills to dazzle them. I’m sure they’ll be happy to empty their pockets.”
“Thank you for that contribution, Doug,” Wendy said. “But I don’t think it’s wise to come at this from the perspective of getting people to empty their pockets . That sounds…”
“Predatory,” Lana said from the chair beside Jess.
“Exactly,” Wendy said. “You are correct about our skills, however. That’s why I want this team to work together closely to bring this to fruition.” She took a brief moment to make eye contact with everyone. “So that we know who’s doing what, Doug will deal with logistics and organization. And because I’ll also be very busy seeking out alternative sources of funding, he will lead the team.”
Doug sat up straighter, like he was barely containing a preen, then his grin slipped at the sound of smothered groans and sighs coming from around the table. Everyone was shifting in their seats or covering their mouths to suppress coughs. Mo was the only one who stayed perfectly still, his eyes narrowed at Doug.
“The board and I thought it best for Doug to take the lead as he does not have a specific skill to offer at the Faire. Your plates will likely be overloaded with preparing your contributions and maintaining our class schedules,” Wendy said, looking around the table again. “Doug has assured us that he will…keep his enthusiasm in check. Right, Doug?” She made eye contact with him.
“Of course, of course,” he said. “This will be a team effort, for the future of the School.” Jess couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be bouncing in his seat a little, his fingers flat against the table in front of his laptop.
“Good,” Wendy said. “Lana will manage textiles and headwear to sell. Mo will of course manage blacksmithing, which is quite the draw at Ren Faires according to Theo.” She gestured to a relaxed young man seated at the end of the table. He stood out in more ways than one—his light brown hair was shaved around the sides and back, long on the top and flipped to one side, the ends falling just below his ear. He was younger than anyone else in the room by far, closer in age to the freshman students Jess would meet the following week.
“Theo’s only been with us a year,” Wendy said. “But he’s worked on Ren Faire circuits, so he’ll be our realism consultant, in addition to impressing our guests with his sword-fighting and knife-throwing skills.”
Jess’s mind shuttered to a halt at “realism consultant.” If this Theo guy was there for realism, what could she contribute?
“Jess,” Wendy said, drawing her attention. “I can’t tell you, we can’t tell you, how much we appreciate your participation. Like Mo, your skills will be a very big draw for us.”
My skills?
Everyone was looking at her expectantly, pleasant closed-lipped smiles on their faces. Except for Mo. His arms were still crossed, his chin still tucked. But his expression was less wary and more resigned.
“I…I’m not sure I understand,” Jess said, returning her attention to Wendy. “How would my skills be a big draw if Theo will already be consulting? I can provide historical accuracy due to my research, but if he already has Faire experience, I’m not sure what I can add.”
“Oh, don’t be so humble, J. C. Anderson,” Doug said, waggling his finger at her.
The breath flew out of Jess’s body. Doug was smirking at her. She narrowed her eyes back.
“How do you know my competition name?” she asked.
“A little bird told me,” he said, looking even more satisfied with himself. Other than raising an eyebrow, Jess remained perfectly still.
“Okay, fine,” he said. “Ned mentioned that you were a competitive archer when I asked about you. I like to learn about new students.” He grinned.
The brief flash of irritation at losing some degree of anonymity waned but didn’t go away. She hadn’t told Ned not to mention her competitive experience, but she knew she’d never told him what name she competed under.
Wendy was looking back and forth between them.
“You didn’t ask her directly?” Wendy asked.
“Google is more efficient. Even though it took a little digging since she didn’t put that name on her information card.”
He turned the laptop around so that it faced the table. A photo of Jess taken during the World 3D Archery Championships filled the screen.
The hairs on Jess’s arms went on end. Warmth flooded her neck and into her cheeks as she took a breath to tell this guy off.
“Again, Doug?” Mo growled low before she could speak. Doug jumped.
“Yes, again?!” Wendy snapped, turning on him. “My office when we finish here; do you understand?”
Looking chastised, Doug nodded and turned the laptop to face himself again.
“Jess,” Wendy said. “I’m very sorry. I understood that Ned told Doug that you were a competitive archer. That’s why I thought you could help us with the Faire. An archery show starring someone of your caliber could draw huge crowds. From well beyond Detroit.”
Jess’s stomach dropped through the floor. She gulped and glanced around the table again. Everyone was looking at her. Except for Mo. Arms still folded tightly, eyebrows furrowed, his gaze darted from person to person, before falling to the table a few inches in front of him. He shook his head almost as imperceptibly as he had when they’d been introduced. After a quick sigh, he looked up at her. His eyes seemed almost apologetic.
“A show?” she asked. She remembered watching the shows a bit when she’d gone with Cassie, but they’d been about entertainment mostly, not skill. Archery was a sport for her, not…an act?
Doug scooted to the edge of his seat and leaned toward Jess a little. Her irritation with him was still high enough that she needed to stifle a lip curl.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “We don’t want people to just come visit and look around. Archery and blacksmithing are dazzling. Therefore, you two will be the public faces of the Faire.”
Jess looked at Mo just as he snapped a glare at Doug.
“Me?” he grunted sharply. Jess admired his commitment to keeping his arms crossed. It seemed to be his default position. But now his intimidating biceps were flexing. He cocked his head to one side as he narrowed his eyes.
Doug flashed him an anxious grin before returning his attention to Jess. He took a breath to speak, but Mo cut him off.
“Wendy?” he grunted again. “ Public face? ” He continued glaring at Doug until Wendy looked up from the notepad she had in front of her.
“We don’t have to decide who exactly is the face of the Faire today. Or even next week,” she said.
“Rick exists,” Mo said.
“He does,” Wendy said. “And he’s a great blacksmithing teacher. But the two people with the most accolades would draw in more fairgoers and even potential students.”
Remaining still in his seat, Mo slid his gaze to Jess. She barely concealed her shock at finding an anxious teenager hiding in his eyes. The thought to ask if he was okay bubbled up but before she could, his gaze shifted away, and his face slid back into a mask screaming “back off.” Just before she looked around the table, she caught Mo dragging a hand down his beard. The others were very occupied by their phones, or their own notepads, or they seemed to be counting the ceiling tiles. She took a deep breath and shook out her buzzing fingertips.
—
Thirty minutes later, the small group filed out of the School and toward their parked cars. The core Ren Faire planning team had been set—Jess, Mo, Lana, Doug, and Theo—and had exchanged numbers so that they could schedule another meeting once they’d spoken to other students and teachers in fields related to their own. Jess fumbled in her bag, not really focused on where she was going as she approached the parking area.
“Jess,” a gruff voice said from behind her. Mo jogged to catch up. “You dropped this,” he said. He held out a keyring just as she hooked her finger into her own inside her bag.
“That’s not—” She lifted hers out, but her office keys weren’t there. “Right,” she said, looking at it. “That ring keeps popping off.” She reached out, and he put the keyring in her hand. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took a few steps to the side but continued walking in the same direction as she was. She realized that the truck she’d parked next to must be his. It was strange for him to walk a little away from it.
“Are you…did you purposefully give me space just then?” she asked, looking at him. He shrugged.
“I make people uncomfortable sometimes,” he said.
She hesitated to make the joke but decided to risk it.
“Especially in dimly lit hallways.”
He looked confused a moment, then his eyebrows went up, and he let out a quick exhale. Almost like a laugh.
“Learned my lesson with you,” he said as they reached their cars.
“Wonder if my crossbow would work on Doug,” she said. “A lesson on not prying into people’s lives.”
Mo’s face darkened.
“He’d deserve it,” he said.
“You know, I really like the School so far, and I don’t want to be rude,” she said. “But that was kind of an ambush.”
Mo nodded slowly, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she said. “It looked like you got ambushed, too.”
He nodded again.
“I guess it’s kind of a compliment,” she said. “If they think we’re that good.”
“Suppose.” His eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw moved like he was stretching it as he glanced back at the School.
“And for a good cause,” she said.
He sighed.
“For the best cause,” he said, looking back at her.
Jess wasn’t sure what else to say. She’d never have imagined that she’d want to continue a conversation with someone who had scared the life out of her in the middle of the night. But Mo was surprising. This huge, imposing guy—aware of the negative effect that could have on others and willing to take the initiative to mitigate it—who seemed to be hiding an anxious kid inside. She wondered what other contradictions he was hiding. She didn’t want to be weird, though. She sighed loudly.
“Have a good evening, Mo,” she said. “I’ll see you around. Or at the next meeting.”
“Good evening, Jess,” he said. He walked around to the driver’s side of his truck, got in, and pulled away.