Chapter Sixteen
Isit laughing as Jackie looks away, biting her tongue when a man picks up six bottles of medicine that will help with his little problem, right before he asks her out.
She politely declines before giving me the stink eye. “You’re so bad.”
“I can’t help it. He obviously envisioned a hot date with you.”
“Yeah, well, a hot date does not entitle the man to a hot fuck,” she curses, making me snort.
“Amen to that.”
“Anyway, I already have a date.”
“With doctor delish?”
“For the love of god, please stop calling him that.” She swats me with a huff before heading back to her stall. Judging by how many pies she’s sold today, I’d say when her shop—Shut your Pie Hole—opens next month, she’ll have a queue around the corner of customers waiting for her.
“Hey, can I pick up my order real quick?”
I turn when I hear Sarah behind me. “Sure. I can’t believe how busy it is. Have you even had a five-minute break yet?”
“Are you kidding me? This is my five-minute break. I’m not complaining, though. This festival is so much more than I even imagined it could be.”
I look around at all the stalls lining the street.
Flowers are hanging in baskets and in planters, adding a rainbow of color to the day’s events.
Banners flutter above us, declaring today the New Dawn Festival, and the sun is shining down on it like a beacon of hope.
I like to think Dawn is watching it all unfold from her perch above.
I agree with Sarah about being surprised by the turnout.
However, I’m not sure why. In the three months since Dawn’s death and the truth came out about my father, the townsfolk have consistently shown up and made an effort to make a change.
They’ve started treating each other like neighbors rather than enemies, and, as such, a sense of community has brought peace and belonging, even for an outcast like me.
The horror of how widespread the rot in this town was shocked some people to their cores, even the people who were always so sure of my guilt.
When Shephard’s team found proof that not only had the coroner lied about his findings, but that he’d used a cadaver for all of his photographic evidence, because, of course, there was no actual body, it became the first of many dominoes to fall.
Sherif Andrews had, as we suspected, created evidence to fit the statement, all of which he pointed my way.
The one that hurt the most was finding out the doc at the clinic had treated my father’s gunshot wound (they needed his blood and the bullet at the scene after all).
He’d said nothing as I was waiting to be tried for murder.
He hung me out to dry and helped Dale, the man who shot my father in the arm and staged the scene before calling the police, get him to a hospital in Mexico, where he underwent his plastic surgery to become Porter.
Thankfully, it hadn’t all been a horror story. The purchase of the shops went through seamlessly. And though I get a pang in my gut every time I think about doing it without Dawn, I know she’d be pissed at all of us if we used her death as an excuse to stand still and not keep moving forward.
“Well, you need to make sure you take a nice soak in the tub later and have Henry give you a foot rub.”
“God, that sounds like heaven.”
“Here, let me throw in a bottle of this.” I show her a fancy purple bottle before slipping it into her bag of goodies.
“What is it?”
“Let’s just say it will make me jump to the top of Henry’s Christmas card list.”
Sarah’s face flushes, but her eyes sparkle with amusement as she bends down and kisses my cheek. “You’re the best, Calliope.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Now scoot. I have potions to sell.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She salutes me before walking to the next stall to make sure everyone is okay.
How she kept us all on track is beyond me, because organizing a bunch of loud and opinionated people takes a particular kind of diplomacy I don’t have.
It’s another reason I threw her name in the nominations for the upcoming mayoral election, even though she’d kill me if she knew.
This place needs someone like Sarah at the helm.
I smile when Hannah skips my way, with Jessica and Jemma on either side of her. Bringing up the rear is David, his arms laden with teddies, flowers, beads, and cotton candy.
“Hey, Calliope. We’re going to get some pink lemonade. You want some?” Hannah asks.
“I’m good, thank you.” I nod to the mostly full glass that Mary brought over for me earlier. “I think David might need one, though.”
All three of them turn to look at him, as if they had forgotten he was there.
“I’ll get him one.”
“No, I will. He’s my brother,” Jessica complains.”
“No, I will. I’m the oldest,” Jemma points out before David steps in.
“How about Hannah gets me a lemonade, Jessica gets me a hotdog, and Jemma grabs me some funnel cake.”
“Yay!” they all yell in unison.
“Stay where we can see you!” I call out as they dash off, kicking out a chair for David to collapse into.
He drops everything he was holding into an empty plastic box I used to carry things over here. “You’d think having kids around would make you feel young, but I call bullshit. I’m in bed by nine pm most nights and wake up feeling like I slept on the ceiling.”
I grin at his theatrics before handing him a small red bottle.
“What is this?”
“Sniff it.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not trying to lure me into your harem, are you? Because I’ll be honest, I don’t think you could handle all this.” He waves to his skinny frame.
“Don’t worry, David, your virtues are safe from me and my witchy ways.”
“It’s not the witch part that scares me. It’s the woman part.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
He huffs and pulls the stopper from the bottle and takes a deep breath before downing the contents in one. His eyes slip closed as he breathes in before they fly open. “Whoa. What is this stuff?”
“I like to call it Wham.”
“Why? Because it hits you like a slap in the face?”
I frown. “No, because it wakes you up before you go.” He looks adorably confused, and I feel depressingly old. “Let’s just go with your reasoning.”
He shrugs and jumps up. “I’m gonna find the girls and see if there are any stalls they want to visit.”
“Okay, have fun.” I grin as he bounds away, completely rejuvenated.
I add a few of the spare bottles from under the table to the top, filling in the now-empty spaces where people have purchased things, and smile at the young woman heading my way.
The closer she gets, the younger I realize she is.
I don’t recognize her, but then I don’t tend to hang around high school students, so there is that.
“Hey, can I help you with something?”
“I was wondering if you have a love potion?” she asks quietly.
I feel my shoulders drop, but I keep my smile in place.
I think back to Sarah, and when I thought she wanted a love potion, only to find out she wanted a repellent.
My lips twitch. Turns out all she needed to repel that slime ball was a six-foot-four bearded beast of a man in her corner.
I could sit and watch him watching her for hours, in a totally non-creepy way, of course.
“I don’t make love potions, I’m afraid.”
She nods sadly, like she expected me to say that.
“Tell me about who you want it for.”
She bites her nail and looks around before leaning closer. “He’s my best friend. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Eighteen today.”
“Well, happy eighteenth birthday.”
“Thanks.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles shyly.
I spot someone watching her from the next stall over. “So this guy, what’s he like?”
Her whole face lights up when she starts speaking. “He’s funny, and kind, and really fricking hot, like way out of my league, hot. Every girl in school wants him. And I’m just me, the best friend. I don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything more than that.”
The guy eases closer. I keep my eye on him while I keep talking. “Have you asked him? I know it’s hard, but sometimes you have to put yourself out there first.”
“And what if he’s not interested? What if I ruin our friendship altogether?”
“If he stops being your friend because you love him, then, honey, he was never your friend. He doesn’t have to reciprocate your feelings, but if he’s a good guy like you say he is, he won’t be a dick about it.”
“I’m scared,” she admits. The guy is right behind her now.
“This guy you’re in love with. What does he look like?”
The guy’s head whips around at my words, but the girl is oblivious.
“He’s about my height, lean but strong from helping his dad on the ranch. He has a cute dimple in his chin, and his eyes always sparkle like he knows a joke nobody else does.”
“Messy blond hair, little dusting of freckles, has a whole cowboy-come-skater-boy vibe?”
“Yeah. How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess. Here, drink this. It’s on the house.” I hand her a little pink bottle, and without hesitation, she pops the cork and drinks it all down. I shake my head. Kids these days. Did Alice in Wonderland teach them nothing?
“What is it?”
“Next time, ask that first. You can never be too safe,” I tell her sternly.
“No, I know. I do, it’s just—it’s you, and everyone knows how protective you are of the women in this town. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”
I feel my face flush at the compliment before I focus on the kid behind her. “As I said, I don’t do love potions. But even if I did, you wouldn’t need one. All you need is a shot of confidence. What’s this boy’s name?”
“Brett.”
The guy—whom I now know as Brett—jolts, but a smile plays on his lips.
“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to find Brett, and you’re going to tell him how you feel and give him a chance to prove to you he’s the good guy you think he is, no matter the outcome.”
“You’re right. I’m going to march right up to him. I’m going to tell him I love him and then I’m going to kiss him.”
“Atta girl.”
“Right. I’ve got this.” She straightens her shoulders. “I just need to find him.”