Epilogue
HARMONY
Lanyard bouncing against her chest, Harmony hustled through the crowd from the beer garden where she’d been hosting some music execs who’d flown in for the festival. It was day two, and the festival hadn’t fallen apart as a complete disaster (yet), but Harmony was still running on frequent giant coffees furnished by her excellent interns and a boatload of nerves.
She found Preston and Lacey at the tables around the Italian slushies stand where he’d just texted they were hanging out between sets at the youth stage. Dropping with a thump into a folding chair beside them, she accepted the bright green drink Preston shoved into her hands and clicked off her wireless headset and its constant stream of chatter from the control center backstage. “Thank you, I’m in dire need of hydration after wooing those guys.”
“Hey,” Preston said, kicking his foot against the side of her sneaker. “I’m the only guy you’re supposed to woo.”
“Schmoozing, then.” She tore the lid and straw off her mint slushy and gulped some down. “We’ll just have to see if it worked.” She made an anxious grimace at Lacey, who was eating gelato out of a cup. A gentle rumble of music from the main stage carried from over a slope.
“You’re the best at schmoozing,” Preston said. “No one can resist your charm. Someone once told me that, and she never lies.” He picked up his own lemon slushy. “She also looks really cute today.”
“Hmm. You’re pretty good at wooing yourself.” But a sharp pain in her head made her groan. “Ow, brain freeze.”
Preston chuckled sympathetically and brushed his fingers over her temple. “Slow down. Five minutes.”
“I just hope they were impressed with what we’ve managed. If they come on board as sponsors, we can get some more big names next year.” She took a smaller, slower sip. “We can’t rely on your old classmates to fill the lineup every year.” With a hopeful look, she said, “Unless you took music theory sitting next to, like, Halsey?”
Preston tilted his head. “I think the girl I sat next to became a riding instructor out in the boonies?”
“Wait, this isn’t the boonies?”
He laughed, but in truth the festival site was beautiful all set up, the walnut trees shading the food stalls and merch stands, the cleared fields and rolling hills providing perfect spaces for the main stage and smaller performance areas. Preston said he was glad to see it all put to good use, even under the feet of so many attendees (thank god, ticket sales were strong). A bunch of locals were taking a break here too— other locals. Harmony was one now as well. She’d gotten an apartment with Alice, who was holding things down backstage, though Harmony spent plenty of nights over at Preston’s.
The other night, after an endless video call with some of the stage prep people, Preston had sat her down for her own private concert of a song he’d written for her. She recognized it from that day she’d taken him and his bloody nose home. He said he’d begun composing it the day he’d met her, and she definitely did not cry and wipe away any tears before he turned around at its end, but she definitely did kiss him silly before they went to bed. He claimed he was going to have to get the piano retuned from how she’d knocked them both against it.
Legend was going to have to work hard tonight at his show if he wanted to compete with that performance.
She asked Preston how the kids had been doing at the youth stage near the front gate, then got into a fencing bout with Lacey, her straw against Lacey’s neon plastic spoon. Part of her wanted to take off her headset and lanyard and stay with them the rest of the day, but she had work to do.
“We’ll walk you back to the main stage,” Preston offered, gathering up their trash and taking it to the recycling bin.
As they cut through the tables, people waved hello, to both Harmony and Preston.
“Hey!” Sarah, sitting at a table with some friends, raised a slushy that Harmony had to assume was the version on the menu spiked with actual limoncello. “There’s our girl!”
Libby waved too. “Festival seems like a huge success!”
Cheers of “First annual!” rose from the surrounding crowd. It had become a rallying cry in town and at planning meetings. Harmony was hopeful about that. She didn’t want to let them all down. Festivals were a shit ton of work. But it felt good. Not just as a different way of making amends but as a way of making something that really was good for a community—that she was a part of.
And it was pretty fun to raise her arms to the cheers, to run through a clump of teen performers collecting high fives.
She was looking forward to collapsing face-first in bed for about two weeks after this weekend, though. Hopefully Preston’s bed. He still refused to allow breakfast in bed, because crumbs, but she’d bought a coffee maker to keep at his place, and he did plenty of other nice things in that bed that made staying there sound like the perfect way to celebrate surviving the first annual! festival.
As she made her way back toward where Preston, Lacey’s hand in his, was shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her, people began streaming back toward the front stage for the next performance. Walking with Libby and Bonnie, Sarah stopped and gave Harmony a pat on the shoulder. “Hope you get a good break after this.”
“Never too early to start work on the second annual fest.” She made a little cheer as she said that.
“It won’t take all year!” Sarah laughed. “What else are you going to do?”
“Ooh,” Bonnie said, drink in hand. “You should join our book club!”
She could do that. She’d also been thinking about finding something steady, in town or online. Social media management? Teaching drama classes? But she liked when she had time, mostly before things ramped up for the festival these last couple weeks, to drag Preston along for a bit of fun out with friends and to help out with Lacey. And most of all to spend quiet evenings with Preston, entertaining him while he cooked with stories of how she’d talked her way into a better deal on lighting equipment or what she and Lacey had gotten up to that afternoon while he ran to therapy. Or squeezing onto the couch together with a couple of books. She loved listening to him get carried away ranting over some bit of poetry or romance plot; he pretended he didn’t like her dramatic readings of wonderful or terrible lines, or jokes about showing her his Balzac, but he’d eventually laugh so hard, jostling her head where it rested in his lap, that she couldn’t even read anymore. And while this weekend’s financials would take several weeks to wrap up, when Harmony had asked Alice for an initial report on how they were faring, the woman had practically gotten dollar signs in her eyes. She had some breathing room to figure everything out.
Libby mused, “Ever think about going into local politics? Travis Weaver’s up for reelection in two years, and I think the shine is off there with most of the town. With a couple successful festivals under your belt, you’d be a contender.”
Harmony laughed. “Why don’t you run against him?”
“No!” Libby said grimly. “I don’t have time for something like that.”
“We’ll see.” Harmony waved as they went off, and finally reached Preston’s side. She took his free hand, meeting his growing smile with her own, sure she’d find something good to keep her out of trouble.
Right here in Brookville.