Chapter 31
A common enemy
Zoey
How did you get so many people to show up on a Sunday? Blackmail?” I asked Felicity as I dragged an orange, furry beanbag in front of the eighty-five-inch screen mounted on her living room wall. I knew the exact measurement because every man who’d walked through the front door had asked admiringly.
The living room, dining room, hallway, and kitchen of Felicity’s tiny ranch house were filled with Story Lakers making themselves comfortable on a variety of seating options. Many of them were business owners who had refused to commit to any participation in Reader Weekend when I’d asked.
“I very casually reminded everyone that Dominion was trying to screw us over again and told them that we were fighting back this time and voilà.”
“Few things are as motivating as a common enemy,” I observed.
“And you potatoed that common enemy, so now everyone is on board,” Felicity said, waving her arm to encompass the chatty crowd.
She was a petite, young Black woman with turquoise hair and several interesting tattoos visible under her short-sleeved orange sweater.
She and her house were both epically hip, and I hoped this was just the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
I pulled a partially shredded envelope out of my pocket and held it up. “I made a list of urgencies. Do you want to go over it before we start?”
“This is a war room strategy session. Let’s get everyone’s thoughts all at once.”
This was exactly the kind of statement designed to make me want to collapse in the fetal position.
I couldn’t handle logistics. Certainly not dozens of logistics shotgunned at me from an eager crowd.
I liked having the ideas, not executing them.
But I would find a way to pull this together even if it meant not sleeping between now and Reader Weekend.
“Let’s get this show on the road. I gotta get back for the dinner rush,” barked Jessie, Angelo’s ancient hostess, who was perched on one of the wingback thrones we’d carted up from Felicity’s basement Dungeons and Dragons lounge.
“Okay, people. Who’s ready to kick Dominion’s ass for once?” Felicity said.
A resounding cheer rose up that could probably be heard inside Hazel’s house next door.
“That’s what I thought,” Felicity said smugly. “Now you all know Zoey. She’s in charge of Reader Weekend and its festivities.”
I waved awkwardly, knowing this was the last moment I’d have the respect of those gathered.
“I’m her number two,” Felicity continued. “I’m the event’s organizational officer.”
A hand shot up from the papasan chair in the dining room. “I nominate myself as number three, communications officer,” Scooter of the Story Lake Warblers announced. “I’ll handle all group communications and avail the Warblers to public announcements.”
“Seconded,” someone in the hallway shouted.
“Oh, wow. Thanks, Scooter,” I said. I glanced down at my list, then crossed off Need Whatever a Phone Tree Is Called These Days and Someone to Be in Charge of It.
“Great,” Felicity said. “Next item of business.”
Over the next half an hour, my anxiety turned to awe as Story Lake residents systematically tackled each problem and provided solutions. I’d never known a community organization to be so ruthlessly single-minded. My building’s tenants’ association had once spent four months arguing over trash bins.
“I appreciate your very generous Reader Weekend oil change discount, Gator,” I said to the grizzled mechanic.
“We’ll be sure to add it to the list of promotions.
One thing I’d like to focus on is how to keep track of what sales and discounts are happening as well as what special events are being hosted.
We don’t want visitors to have to decide between ultimate bingo in the park and the bonfire at the lodge,” I said.
“Got you covered.” Harriet Oglethorpe, mother to town mayor Darius and an extremely organized woman, held up her phone.
“I created a shared spreadsheet with tabs for sales and events. Everyone can add their offerings, and we can hash out the scheduling details before we put the official listings on the website. I texted the link to Scooter.”
“Oh, wow. Um, that’s great. Thank you,” I said.
Phones started dinging and vibrating from all corners of the house. “And I just added a contact info tab and forwarded it to everyone here,” Scooter announced.
I blinked at my own phone. “Uh. Awesome. You guys sure are efficient.”
Another message appeared on-screen.
“And now we have a message group for real-time questions and answers,” Scooter added.
Feeling like I’d been given a sneak peek into the life of an organized person, I gleefully crossed off two more items on my list. No wonder some people liked the whole “being part of a team.” With the right team, the right motivation, shit got done.
Felicity pointed her fairy princess laser wand at the TV.
“Great stuff, people. Now let me walk you through this project management website. I’ve taken the liberty of creating user accounts for each one of you.
You’ll find your logins in the email I sent last night titled ‘Don’t Lose This Important Crap. ’”
I was impressed. I knew Felicity struggled with anxiety, but here she was working around it and playing to her strengths. She gave me hope for me.
“I will be assigning you tasks in this program. You can make notes, ask questions, and check off to-do items when you’ve completed them.
You can also assign tasks to others. For example, Garland has already requested each business take a photo of the exterior of their property so he can write up brief profiles for the Neighborly app and share them in neighboring…
uh…neighborhoods to attract more visitors. ”
“That’s too many uses of the word neighbor. It’s now lost all meaning,” complained Lacresha, the funeral home director, who was chowing down on one of the mini ramen bowls Felicity had prepared. I’d already eaten two.
“My apologies,” Felicity said with a grin.
“Moving on, to further our campaign to kick Dominion’s ass”—she paused for the chorus of mandatory woos—“we will be focusing on what we have that those diesel-fueled shit waffles don’t.
Zoey hired the high school marketing club to craft a social media marketing plan targeting older audiences. ”
“Marketing! Club!” barked the two teenage representatives present.
“Go Vampires,” someone called from Felicity’s kitchen.
Everyone covered their lower faces with their arms and hissed.
Felicity poked me. “You’re a Vampire now. You need to act like it.”
“Oh. Uh. Yes, of course.” My hiss sounded more like a cat asking a question, but it was my first attempt.
Terrance, our Story Lake Haven representative, raised his prosthetic hand.
“Yes, Terrance?” Felicity said.
He stood and removed his cowboy hat. “Story Lake Haven wants in on this. One of our first outings was to Dominion’s downtown, and we had a shitty—pardon my French—experience. If you’re over the age of forty, they treat you like you should be coffin shopping. We had an idea to boost attendance.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“We’ve decided to host the Haven’s first Family Day during Reader Weekend,” he announced.
“Invitations have already gone out from residents to their extended families. The guilt trip template received a real high RSVP rate, so shout-out to the marketing club for coming up with it.” He pointed a finger gun in the direction of the teens, who fist-bumped.
“We’d like to incorporate family-friendly events on campus and downtown to make sure there’s crossover. ”
“I could kiss you, Terrance,” I said.
“Get in line,” Darius told me, enthusiastically shaking Terrance’s hand.
Terrance tugged at his cowboy hat in embarrassment. “There’s enough of ol’ Terr Bear to go around.”
“Thank you, Terr Bear, for that amazing contribution. We’ll look for your suggestions on the spreadsheet,” Felicity continued.
“Now, in my spare time, I contacted the Fish Hook and Angelo’s to discuss weekend specials that up their game and don’t overlap.
If the weather is good, Angelo’s will offer to-go picnic baskets for lunch, available for preorder online.
The Fish Hook will host a special late afternoon happy hour on their deck.
Both will have dinner specials on Friday and Saturday nights.
Now, Hana, why don’t you tell us what the lodge has planned? ”
Hana got to her feet. She wore stylish jeans, what she referred to as “lesbian boots” when I’d asked her, and a Kiss the Chef muscle shirt.
“Thanks, Felicity. So we’ve got the bonfire and s’mores scheduled for Friday night, book-themed cocktails all weekend, and then we’re bringing in a special brunch menu for Sunday morning.”
By the time Hana was done describing her menus, I was contemplating a third mini ramen, and my beanbag was flat.
Next up, Chevy filled us in on his plans for Hazel’s signing.
“Saturday morning, we’ll be assigning a number to each ticket holder, and they will be called to the store in groups for their designated time window.
Which means they’ll all have a chance to wander around downtown,” he said, using Felicity’s laser pointer wand to encompass several blocks of Story Lake’s lakefront and town square.
“We’ll set up a pop-up coffee stand outside the bookstore for readers waiting in line,” Jennifer volunteered.
“And Leafy Greens and my shop will be doing sidewalk sales during the event,” Sunita added.
“One more thing,” Chevy added. “I talked to the high school art teacher over breakfast this morning—since we’re married—and he offered extra credit to a group of students for helping businesses with their signage and window displays that weekend.”
An approving murmur rolled through the gathering.
“I just added an artwork sign-up to the master spreadsheet,” Harriet announced.
“This. Is. Awesome,” I whispered to Felicity.