Chapter Eighteen #2
“Katie.” Gemma looks pained. “Come on. There’s dilapidated chic, and then there’s just a half-demolished building. There’s no way we can hold anything there.”
I wince, knowing she’s right. It’s the thing my brain didn’t want to grapple with yesterday, choosing instead to moan and sulk and feel miserable.
“We’re a month out,” Gemma continues. “And now we’re sold out. You’ve promised these people a lot of things, and you’ve got half the village back there waiting to see you.”
“They are?”
“ Yes . You disappeared yesterday. They don’t even know if we’re still going ahead. I didn’t know until this morning when you came over. You’ve got to tell them something.”
“But I don’t—”
“It has to come from you.”
“But I don’t know what to do,” I say dumbly, and she frowns at me. Callum shifts at my side, but he doesn’t come to my rescue. Doesn’t offer a magical solution. He just waits. Waits for me.
Because I’m in charge.
The realization doesn’t so much scare me as it does surprise me. Mainly at how I’ve never thought about it before. I always viewed this as an all-village thing. And it still is. But Gemma’s right.
This is my idea. My thing.
Which means I need to make a decision.
Or I could just give up. It would be much easier to give up.
I gaze through the trees, away from the barn toward where I know the lake sits, and, on the other side of that, Kelly’s.
“We’ll go back to the pub,” I say, and the two of them stare at me.
“They’re not going to fit,” Gemma says. “That’s why we were going to host it here in the first place. And that was before we had five hundred people sign up. They’re definitely not going to fit there now.”
“We don’t have another choice.” I’m surprised at how calm I am. Maybe because I know it’s the right decision. Maybe because it should have been my decision all along. “Kelly’s isn’t just four walls and a roof. We have the patio. We have the lake. We’ll spread out. Use all of it.”
“And if it rains?” Gemma asks.
“Then it rains. But what are we going to do? Give up? Like you said, we’ve got people coming. We’ve got attention, which is what we wanted from the start. So let’s go.”
I start forward, tugging Callum with me all the way back to the barn.
“Help me up,” I tell him, and he lifts me onto a large slab of concrete that was once a part of the wall. Two dozen or so people mill about inspecting the damage, but no one notices when I wave, even as I tower over them.
Nush tugs on my sweatpants, while Gemma and Noah watch on. “Do you want me to get the bell?”
“We don’t have time for that.”
“Do you want me to—”
“I’ve got this, Nush.”
She smiles at me in surprise, and steps back to join the others. I take one look at the group, cup my hands over my mouth, and shout as loud as I can.
“Everyone, shut up!”
They immediately fall quiet.
“I know this is a setback,” I say. “A big one. But we can’t let it stop us.
We can’t let them win. We’re going to move the festival to Kelly’s.
I’ll make it work,” I add, as a few people start to mumble.
“ We’ll make it work. But this will put us behind.
So whatever spare time you have, whatever you can contribute, please let me know.
Because in a few weeks’ time, we’ve got hundreds of people coming to see us.
Hundreds of people who want us to succeed.
Glenmill did this because they’re scared.
Well, we’re not. We know what we’re fighting for, and that makes all the difference.
We can still do this, but only if we work together. So let’s go!”
I start to raise my hands at the last bit, but get embarrassed halfway through, and stop.
Okay, I won’t lie. I thought there might be some cheering. Just a little a bit of cheering. A whoop. But there’s nothing. There are, however, several smiles, along with some firm nods, and as the talking starts up again, it’s with a new air of determination that wasn’t there before.
God, this leadership thing feels great. Maybe I should keep going. Really rev them up. Maybe I should—
“Quit while you’re ahead,” Nush says, reading my mind. “But good job.”
Callum holds his arm out, helping me down, and she lingers by his side, gazing up at him in an appraising, thoroughly Nush way.
“I like men with conviction,” she tells him, and he pauses.
“Thanks.”
“And men with tattoos.”
“Okay,” I say. “Thank you, Nush. He’s taken.”
“Will you add tattoos to my—”
“Yes,” I interrupt. “I will add them to your form.”
Her gaze flicks to his arm with an almost wistful expression, and then she moves away, ushering people back to the pub.
Callum turns to me. “Taken, huh?”
“You got a problem with that, dramatic gesture boy?”
“I’m just not really ready to put a label on—” He laughs as I jab him in the ribs, and quickly pulls me into his side. “No problem at all,” he says, and I lean into him as everyone else starts to leave.
“Do you think this is the right decision?” I ask quietly.
“Do you?”
I glance up at him, searching my heart for any shred of doubt. For any part of me that whispers this is a mistake . But there’s nothing. Only a warm hum of conviction, stronger than I’ve felt in weeks.
“Yes,” I say. “I do.”
“Well, then,” he smiles. “Where do you want me?”