Chapter Fourteen Pressure
Caleb
The shop was quiet which I was thankful for after being mobbed at the park.
I locked the door behind me and left my hand on the knob for a moment longer than necessary. Outside, the town carried on as usual. Laughter drifted down the street, muffled by the cold. Somewhere, music played faintly.
I kept the sign as ‘CLOSED’ and turned toward the counter.
The bills were exactly where I had left them.
I stood there staring at the stack like it might reorganize itself if I gave it enough time or better yet, just magically be paid.
I dropped my jacket over the back of a chair and went through them slowly, organizing and stacking them neatly.
It was the same old bills. Rent, utilities, and a supplier invoice I had meant to call about last week.
Another notice from the insurance company that I already knew by heart.
I told myself this was fine. That this was normal to be a bit behind.
That small businesses always felt tight with money in the wintertime.
It was a difficult economy for a lot of people and just because I hadn’t seen the same uptick in Christmas sales, didn’t mean the shop wouldn’t turn a profit in the new year.
I carried the stack to the back room and sat on the stool beside the workbench, elbows on my knees.
The quiet pressed in now, heavier than before.
The shop felt smaller when I stopped moving.
I could still hear the park in my head, the hum of powertools, the scrape of boots in snow, the sudden shift in the mood when someone recognized me.
Are you Caleb Green?
It had been said with awe, with delight, like a gift she was offering me.
I closed my eyes.
I had known it would happen eventually. Maple Ridge was not hidden from the world.
People visited, there was a tourist industry, especially with the nearby ski hill.
Still, I had gotten used to being unnoticed, just being the guy who fixed guitars, replaced strings, and taught kids how to tune by ear. To be ordinary.
Recognition felt like being pulled backward.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and stood, restless. I crossed the shop, straightened a display that didn’t need straightening, then stopped short when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and stared at the screen. Three missed calls. Two voicemails. Same number. Same name. Four texts.
You need to see this.
Is it true?
Will this make a difference in your decision to come on tour again?
She can come as well.
I clicked the link and an article came up asking Did Country Star Quit Career For Love? It had pictures of Kitty and I skating hand in hand at the rink in the park, then a close up of Kitty looking a little stunned.
Great, now I was dragging her into my mess with the tabloids.
I sat down and pressed play on the voicemail.
“Caleb,” my previous agent Dave said, his voice easy and confident, like nothing bad had ever happened between us. “You’re not going to believe this. One of your old tracks is trending again. It’s picked up steam online. People are talking and creating buzz about you.”
I leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“There’s interest,” he continued. “Real interest. This could be big. Bigger than last time. We can do this differently now. Better terms with more control. Maybe a shorter tour. If we play our cards right, you might even get your own show instead of being just the opening act.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Call me back,” he said. “We should talk.”
The message ended, and another started immediately.
“This window won’t stay open forever,” he added. “You’ve got leverage right now because people want you. Don’t waste it.”
I set the phone face down on the counter.
People want you.
Dave always said it like that. It was his job to make sure I gave the people what they wanted.
I stood again and walked to the front window, peering out at the street. Lights were coming on now, the town easing into the evening while I sat in stagnation inside the shop.
I thought of Kitty. The way she had noticed immediately when the crowd shifted. The way she had stepped in without making a scene. The clean exit she had given me without asking for anything in return.
Gratitude settled in my chest, but with it was embarrassment. The quiet awareness that I had needed saving. That I had taken the out because it was easier than standing there and facing unwanted attention.
I looked back at the phone on the bench, at the bills, then at the empty shop.
I was boxed in from all sides.
My savings were depleted. The shop wasn’t doing as well as it used to. I needed an extra stream of income but if I took up the persona of Caleb Green Country Singer, I would lose control of my life, miss my family and community, and lose a part of my soul.
My eyes snagged on the small cardboard box near the register.
The playing cards.
Kitty’s cookie exchange cards were stacked inside, bundled in neat packs with elastic bands.
She had dropped them off earlier with a look that had been both grateful and apologetic, like she was asking for help and forgiveness at the same time.
I had told her I would hand them out at the square when the cocoa crawl started, and I had meant it.
It had seemed simple at the time, fun even, to distribute chaos in paper form.
The cocoa crawl was not a private gathering. It was a public event, which meant people would be out, moving in clusters, and looking for entertainment.
And possibly looking for me.
I checked the time and felt my stomach drop. A tightness climbed up the back of my neck. I had promised Kitty I would be there.
I pulled my jacket on and moved through closing procedures with a kind of blunt determination.I turned off the overhead lights, and left the lamps on low so the shop didn’t look abandoned from the street. Grabbing the box of cards under one arm, I locked the door, and stepped into the cold.
The walk to the square was short. I kept my head down at first, breath fogging in front of me, boots scraping over packed snow. The town lights glowed ahead, and the sound of voices rose as I got closer. There was laughter as people chatted together.
String lights were draped between poles, and a few vendor tents had been set up along the edges.
People clustered in groups, cups in hand, moving toward the first cocoa stop with the kind of excited impatience that said they had been looking forward to this all week.
A table had been set near the center with a hand-lettered sign that read cookie exchange cards here in cheerful marker.
Kitty stood behind it, her hair pinned back but already escaping. She was talking to two women at once while Mr. Humphrey hovered nearby, nodding along as if he had personally invented the rules.
Kitty spotted me and she smiled. “You made it.”
“I said I would,” I replied.
Her smile dimmed a little at my gruff tone and I instantly regretted it. “Good. Mr. Humphrey was about to start explaining the rules and I was afraid the entire town would end up trading cookies with the gazebo.”
Mr. Humphrey straightened proudly. “The gazebo is centrally located.”
“That’s the problem,” Kitty said. “People need to go visit businesses. It’s community bonding.”
I set the box down on the table and slid it toward her. “Have you played this before?”
Kitty shook her head.
I glanced at the line that had formed. “We hand out three cards per person. They keep them. They play them whenever the card applies. If they play a card, it gets handed to the person you exchanged or stole cookies from. They can’t use that card back on you.
Eventually people either go home, or the game ends at a specific time.
Hopefully everyone has a box of cookies that they like by the end of the night. ”
I opened the box and started handing out three cards to each person after verifying they had brought a box of cookies with them to participate.
Lydia swooped in, grabbed a set of cards, and flashed it like she had won something. “Oh, I am going to dominate.”
Ephram looked wary as he carefully accepted his three cards. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” Kitty commented.
Dex appeared at Lydia’s other side as if summoned by the word dominate. He threaded his arm through Lucy’s, eyes amused. “You should always be worried.”
Braxton and Jane followed, cheerful as ever. “This is fun.”
“This is chaos,” Ephram commented.
Braxton grinned. “Same thing.”
Kitty’s amused eyes met mine briefly over the table. She looked tired. She also looked like she was holding the whole thing together with stubbornness and a surprisingly good system.
“Do you want to join the hot cocoa crawl? We’re almost done handing out the cards,” I suggested, thinking she could use a break to just enjoy the evening without worrying about anything.
“It would be nice. Do you want to come with me or would you prefer to just call it a night?” Kitty tentatively asked, not looking at me.
Part of me wanted to go home where I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone recognizing me, but I realized it wasn’t realistic.
People were going to realize who I was at some point or another.
The real question was how I was going to handle that recognition.
Would I deal with it in the moment, or hide forever?
Kitty took my indecisiveness as rejection and gave me an out. “It’s okay. I’m tired too so I understand.”
“I would like to go with you,” I told her, realizing it was true.
“Really?” Kitty gave me a tentative smile.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I replied as I handed another person their three cards and explained the rules again.
We almost ran out of cards before everyone in the lineup had gotten theirs. It appeared that a record number of people were taking part in the event this year.
Kitty looked at the last three cards in her hand. “Wow, I didn’t realize that many people enjoyed stealing cookies from each other.”
I chuckled. “It’s a bit of a competition. Some people like to brag about how many times they managed to exchange their box. By the way, don’t get Mr. Humphrey’s cookies. He always eats one out of each box so you will end up short a cookie from your dozen.”
Kitty laughed. “How do you keep track of who he swapped boxes with?”
“Honestly? I haven’t figured that part out yet,” I remarked.
“What about you? Where is your box of cookies?” she asked as she grabbed a box from a chair that had been set aside.
“I didn’t bring one. I’m just happy to walk with you and sample some hot cocoa.”
We stepped away from the table together, ready to wander the town, enjoy some beverages and cookie mayhem while frequenting the businesses that had kept their doors open late for the event.
I realized that this was exactly where I wanted to be.