Chapter 41
Friday afternoon McKenna set down her pencil and shook her hand out from taking minutes for another meeting.
At least she assumed it was a meeting. Maybe it wasn’t.
She’d just gotten used to taking notes whenever Georgie started up a conversation.
This most recent one had been about where to find the best peaches and cantaloupe in the area and how much Gus loves cheese curds.
Taking a moment to stretch her legs while Evie excused herself to the bathroom, McKenna walked over to a window in the dining room and lifted the screen so she could lean out and yell, “Nate, you doing okay?”
After repairing the roof on the toolshed a little bit ago, he’d now climbed up onto the main roof of the house so he could repair a few areas and clean out the gutters.
She hadn’t heard his footsteps tromping above them for a minute or two.
With as hot as it was today, she couldn’t help imagining a worst-case scenario where he’d gotten heat stroke, passed out, and tumbled to his death while they obliviously talked about cantaloupe and cheese curds. “Nate? You still up there and alive?”
“What?” his voice yelled back from somewhere above.
He was still up there and alive. Good. She lowered the screen back into place.
“So, Georgie,” Gus was saying as Evie waddled back to the table and McKenna settled back into her seat. “I’ve been chewing on your clues, and I think I’ve got it figured out. I think I know who the celebrity is.”
“Shh-shh-shh. Don’t say it in front of the others. Not yet.”
“How about if I just whisper it to you and see if I’m right?”
She batted her hand at him. “You’re a terrible whisperer. Everyone will hear.”
“Well, then let me give a secret clue that only you would understand, and you can nod your head discreetly if it matches the right person.”
“Or you could just step out of the room for a minute and talk,” said Evie, motioning to the doorway with her knitting needle.
Georgie ignored Evie’s suggestion, locked in on Gus. “Does the person you’re thinking of have a really nice voice?”
“Oh yeah,” said Gus, his eyes lighting up. “The person I’m thinking of also has a name that starts with the letter H. Does yours?”
Georgie nodded.
“Thought so. Does this person’s last name start with a C-o-n—”
“Stop! You’re giving it away,” Georgie said.
“Thought so,” said Gus with an air of satisfaction as he reached into a bowl of pretzels. “I saw part of the name written down on a paper sticking out of your folder the other day and figured it out. Good choice. Great voice. Not sure I’d count him as a real celebrity though.”
“What do you mean? Of course he counts as a real celebrity,” said Georgie.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Gus whispered, making it clear why Georgie said he was a terrible whisperer. Nate could probably hear every word from up on the roof. “He does a great national anthem. I’d just say he’s more of a local celebrity than anything.”
“Who are you talking about?” said Georgie.
“The guy you’ve been talking about,” said Gus. Then in another loud whisper, “Harold Connor. The guy who sings the national anthem at all the high school football games in the area.”
“That’s not the guy I’ve been talking about,” Georgie said.
“Then who’s the guy you’ve been talking about?” said Gus.
“The guy I’ve been talking about,” said Georgie. “The celebrity!”
“Which is . . .” McKenna waved her hand in a circular motion, hoping Georgie would spill the big secret.
Georgie’s face flushed pink, then dark red before she burst out a big breath of air and said, “Okay, fine. I’m actually dying because I heard back from him this morning and he said he was coming and I can’t wait to tell everybody, especially Lottie.
Lottie’s going to die! But I still want to keep it a secret, so you have to promise promise promise not to tell anyone yet. ”
“We promise promise promise,” McKenna, Gus, and Evie all said together.
McKenna had a feeling she wouldn’t know who the celebrity was, but she couldn’t help the excitement bubbling inside of her at seeing Georgie’s giddiness.
“Tell us already,” said Gus.
“I will,” Georgie said, fanning herself with a paper. “Soon as Barb gets here. Can’t let the cat out of the bag without all of us present.” Georgie glanced at her watch. “What is keeping that woman? She’s never this late for a meeting.”
Ah, so it was a meeting. McKenna quickly jotted down the attendance, then set her pencil down and clasped her hands back in her lap.
Barb burst through the front door a second later. “Oh, weeping and gnashing, you guys. Weeping and gnashing.”
“Squirrels get to the tomatoes again?” Gus said.
Barb panted as if she’d run all the way from her house to The Happy Hiccup. “Worse,” she said, collapsing into a chair. “It’s the barn.”
Now Georgie started to pant, looking nearly as green as her pale shirt. “What’s wrong with the barn?”
“I looked out the kitchen window early this morning and the whole thing was in blazes. Blazes.” Barb clutched her chest. “It’s gone. All of it.”
“What?” said Gus.
“No,” said McKenna.
“Everyone okay?” asked Evie.
“The concert!” shouted Georgie.
“I know, I know. I’m sick about it too. Thankfully nobody was injured. We’ve got insurance. But my poor husband. Dear sweet Frank. All his workshop equipment was stored out there. So many of those tools he’d inherited from his grandfather and dad. He’s just beside himself.”
“The concert,” Georgie whimpered.
“I know, I know.” Barb patted Georgie’s hand. “But you still haven’t heard anything official back, right? We have time to reschedule or figure out a different location.”
Georgie whimpered again. “I heard back from him today. He’s already planning to come. I promised him three thousand dollars.”
“Three thousand dollars?” Gus and Evie both gasped.
“Why on earth would you promise him three thousand dollars?” said Barb. “We don’t have that sort of money in our funds.”
“You know how much cheese that would’ve bought if we did?” said Gus.
Georgie whimpered. “I figured we’d make back the amount and more from the concert, and we’d be able to pay him after he’d finished performing.”
“Well, tell him we can’t. Tell him we’ve canceled,” said Gus.
“Even if we cancel, we’ll still owe him half,” said Georgie. “I wrote an official contract and everything.”
“Surely he would understand,” McKenna said, twiddling the pencil between her fingers. “I mean, if he’s a real celebrity then I doubt he’s going to lose any sleep over fifteen hundred dollars.”
“Must be nice,” mumbled Gus.
“I don’t even know who he is,” continued McKenna, “but I’m betting he—”
“Harry Connick Junior,” Georgie muttered.
“—would surely . . .” McKenna’s words faded as Georgie’s words sunk in. “I’m sorry, but did you just say Harry Connick Junior?”
Georgie nodded. Barb blew her nose. Evie whispered, “I don’t know who he is,” while Gus shrugged back at her and chomped on his pretzels.
“You’re lying,” McKenna blurted.
Georgie jutted her chin. “Excuse me?”
“You did not invite Harry Connick Junior to come sing in your backyard.”
“Of course not. My backyard’s too tiny.” Georgie waved her hand. “I invited him to come sing in Barb’s backyard inside her giant barn.”
“And he said yes?” McKenna snapped the pencil in two. “Harry Connick Junior said yes. You’re telling me you just emailed him and said, Hey Harry, come put on a concert in my backyard—”
“Barb’s backyard,” everyone said.
“—and he said yes? Harry said yes?” McKenna raced to the window and lifted the screen. “Nate, did you know Georgie invited Harry Connick Junior and he said yes?”
“What?” Nate’s voice yelled back.
McKenna spun back to Georgie. “Did he really say yes?”
“Three times if you must know,” said Georgie. “I wasn’t sure if my email went through, so I asked my granddaughter and the girl who cleans my house to reach out as well. He responded to all three of us and said yes, he’d be happy to visit. He even signed the contract three times.”
“I still don’t know who he is,” Evie whispered.
“Not the guy who sings at the high school football games, I know that much,” mumbled Gus.
“He’s Harry Connick Junior,” McKenna said. “Harry Connick Junior,” she said again, only louder before leaning out the window and shouting, “Harry Connick Junior, Nate.”
“What?”
She turned back to the group. “Do you have any idea how much Momma J loved Harry Connick Junior?”
“No,” Gus said. “Mostly because I have no idea who Momma J is.”
“A friend of Harry’s?” Evie said with a shrug.
“My mom. Well, my adopted mom. Bobbi’s mom. Our mom. She looooooooved Harry.”
“Great. Maybe she’ll pay three thousand dollars to come hear him sing next to a burned-down barn,” Gus said.
“She’s dead.”
“I’m just going to stop talking now.” Gus lowered his head.
“No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay that she’s dead.
I still miss her terribly. I just mean it’s not like she died last Tuesday and I’m too emotional to talk about it.
I can talk about it. I’d just rather not talk about it, because well .
. . I still miss her terribly. But Harry!
” McKenna flung the two broken pencil pieces she didn’t even know she was still holding into the air.
“I definitely want to talk about Harry. Why are we not talking more about Harry?”
“What’s to talk about?” Georgie said. “He has nowhere to perform now.”
McKenna stared at everyone, her mouth surely gaping open enough to catch a bald eagle. “You guys are kidding, right?”
When nobody looked like they were kidding, McKenna slammed her hands on her hips, then splayed her fingers toward the window. “Um, helloooo . . . Here?”
After way too much staring and silence, McKenna said, “Why are you all looking at me like I just suggested Harry perform in a porta potty next to a landfill full of radioactive chemicals instead of a cute B&B with chickens and goats and plenty of space to set up chairs?”
Now it was the others’ turns to flap their elbows and point their fingers like some sort of exotic bird mating ritual. “This place isn’t ready to host a celebrity. It’s not even ready to host non-celebrities. Nobody in their right mind would want to stay here.”
“I’m staying here.”
“Exactly,” said Georgie. “No way this place will be ready in time for Harry.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it’ll be ready.” McKenna leaned out the window. “Nate, we can have this place ready for Harry, can’t we?”
“What?”
“Nate agrees,” McKenna said, spinning back to the group. “So when is Harry coming?”
“Saturday, June twenty-seventh.”
McKenna did the math. “That’s more than two weeks from now. Plenty of time.”
“You really think so?” said Georgie. “Because here’s the thing—Evie’s about to pop out a baby, Barb’s got a burned-down barn to figure out, Gus is Gus, and I hate to say it, but my arthritis is flaring.
We’ll do what we can to help promote the event and build up excitement, but it’ll be on you and Nate to fix this place up in time.
That’s why Barb’s barn was the perfect venue. It was walk-in ready.”
“Question. What exactly does Gus is Gus mean?” said Gus, shoving another pretzel into his mouth.
“Oh, don’t you worry,” McKenna said in response to Georgie. “This place will be ready.”
Because this wasn’t just about the arrival of a celebrity.
This was the golden ticket McKenna needed.
A chance to honor her mother—Harry Connick Junior!
—a way to provide her sister with a special proposal—Harry Connick Junior crooning something amazing while Oliver proposes!
—and the perfect opportunity to beef up her own portfolio—a celebrity crooning something amazing while a cute couple gets engaged at a charming B&B surrounded by adorable chickens and goats!
Oh yes. Harry Connick Junior was coming to town, and McKenna was ready. She leaned out the window. “Isn’t this great?”
“What?”
Nate might need a little more time to get ready.