CHAPTER SEVEN
A NYA
“There you are,” Carolyn James said in a singsong from behind a double-paned window as I strode through the wide double doors of the New Burlington Town Hall. “And I think I know exactly why you’re here.”
I stopped at her window and held up an envelope with a fat check in it. Thank God the bookstore profits this month had enough extra to cover the parade entrance fee. “I’ll still give you three guesses. Almost missed the deadline though.”
“Fifteen minutes left.” Carolyn pointed to the clock on the far wall behind her desk as town treasurer. She slid open the window and took the check from my hand. “But after all the interest last year, I’ll admit, they’re being strict about the deadline.”
“I can imagine.”
“Got any ideas for your float?”
“A few.” Lady Liberty theme, Gilded Age theme, Mark Twain theme, American West theme...
She placed the check next to a stack of files on her desk. “You should have won last year. The moving bookworm you made from paper maché was amazing.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks warmed, despite already being hot from the short walk inside the town hall from my parking space. June was still two days away, but if the outside temperature was any indication, it was going to be a hot and humid summer. And in southern Ohio, the humidity could be brutal. “That’s very kind of you.”
“I’m telling the truth. You got robbed.”
“Second place was still great. I got that five-hundred-dollar Amazon gift card.”
She nearly rolled her eyes. “The Women’s Club really should think harder about the prizes they’re offering for this.”
“They’re not so bad, and the winner gets ten thousand bucks.”
“But now the competition is so much stiffer. They need to do more for second and third place.” She picked up a maroon coffee mug, one I recognized as one of her favorites. Carolyn was a fanatical coffee drinker, always taking advantage of the free samples I offered in the wintertime at The Green Frog. “Counting you, we have fourteen floats.”
My eyes widened. “That many?”
“I’m glad the city’s getting some positive buzz because of it. Maybe when people come to town for the parade, they’ll see New Burlington has a lot to offer.”
I agreed. That’s why I’d come back after that stint in Chicago for a few years after college. Working backstage and in admin at Second City was fun and paid well, but I didn’t fit in a big metropolis like that. It was too anonymous, too cold, too busy, and too much. And that was before things went south.
Now, New Burlington was more my speed. A little bit sleepy, and never fast. Close to Cincinnati but far enough away to have its own identity. Cheap. Safe. And never unexpected.
It took moving to a big city to make me realize I was a small-town girl.
The door jangled, stopping the flow of my conversation with Carolyn. When I spotted who was on the opposite side, my heart fell. Robert Kilgore. What in the world does he want?
“You just made it,” Carolyn said, her voice full of warmth. She peeked around the window.
I whipped my head in the same direction. Why is she expecting him? “You... um... you know Robert?”
“We met a few weeks ago when he came in here to get some zoning paperwork for the new place.” Carolyn’s attention remained fixed on him as he approached, giving me a small nod and saying hello to her. “I guess this means you’ve decided to enter.”
“Sure does.” He slipped an envelope from the back pocket of his dark jeans and handed it across the window threshold. “Got the entrance fee and the forms all in there.”
“Wonderful. With you, that makes fifteen.”
I recoiled, my toes curling in my slip-on sneakers. Fifteen entries. That was five more than last year. Carolyn was right; interest was up, and now I had this to contend with too. Was Robert also going to build a float?
First, he wants to compete with bookstores. Now he wants to compete with floats. Considering his Wall Street budget, I was sure he’d be able to produce a complete production. He’d probably have Broadway stars tap dancing, dressed up as books and glasses of bourbon on the top of his car.
Can he be any more annoying? And can I stop feeling so intimidated?
“I’ve got to go,” I said, suddenly wanting to leave. Wanting to go home. Wanting to just... get away. Now. “Got a few more errands to run. Can’t neglect those.”
Carolyn and Robert barely said goodbye before I rushed out the door, barreling down the steps and the front path linking town hall with a small plaza that served as a memorial to people from New Burlington who died in all the overseas conflicts since World War I. Normally, I stopped, feeling reverential and respectful around the names etched in large slabs of granite, but I pushed onward, focused only on getting into my car. There, I’d have room to think. I’d be able to process what had just happened.
Sliding behind the steering wheel, I gripped both sides of it for a few moments, not bothering to turn on the engine. Thoughts raced through my mind, cracking and bursting like kernels of popcorn. As I took some steady breaths, I willed them to slow down. I knew I was being dramatic. This overreaction was ridiculous. Ludicrous. This was a parade, nothing more. Thirteen other businesses would compete for first place too. This wasn’t a duel between Robert and me.
So why is it starting to feel like one?
A rap on the car door shook me out of my thoughts, and when I turned toward the sound, my stomach tightened. Robert was on the other side, a crease across his wide forehead.
“Will you roll down the window?” he asked, his voice muffled through the glass. “Just for a second.”
Trapped and not wanting to look ruder than I already did, I started the car engine and obliged his request. “Can I do something for you?”
“I just... I wanted to see if you’re okay.”
I gulped. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
I moved both hands back to the steering wheel. “I’m just thinking about all the things I need to do today. I have a bunch more errands to run.”
“Well, I don’t want to keep you from them.”
I put the car into reverse, hoping he’d get an unspoken signal. “Good luck with your float,” I managed, seeing the comment more as a closing than anything else. “The judges are ruthless.”
“I’ve heard.”
I backed the car an inch, and Robert grabbed the door through the open window, stopping me from moving more.
“Have dinner with me,” he said.
Shocked, I threw the engine into park. “What?”
“Have dinner with me.”
“You just said that... but... why?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“I just...”
“We all have to eat.”
He had a point. Still...
“I can’t today,” I replied. “Like I said, I have those errands.”
“But you’re willing to.” A half smile crept across his mouth, and I realized what I’d done—I’d admitted something without planning to do so. “That’s encouraging.”
“Well, I mean.” I fumbled for something to say, some way to get out of this that wouldn’t sound awful or rude. “I’ll get a drink with you.”
His expression brightened. “Good.”
“Tomorrow,” I added, pushing aside my reservations, and letting curiosity take over. “If that works for you.”
“It’s fine with me.” Robert pushed off the car door frame. “Shall we say, six?”
I nodded. “Store closes at five, so that works.”
“How about I pick you up at six thirty? At your place?”
I shook my head. No way, not even close. That sounded too much like a date, and whatever this was, it was not going to be that. Even though I haven’t been on a decent date in forever. “Let’s just meet somewhere. That’ll be easier.”
“Okay.” His smile faltered a fraction. “Where do you want to go?”
My mind raced again, this time thumbing through the various bars and restaurants I knew between here and downtown Cincinnati. Anything within five miles of New Burlington was out; we’d likely run into people we knew, and I wasn’t sure I wanted everyone in town to know we were friendly. That meant we’d have to choose a place closer to Cincinnati, and my knowledge of memorable but affordable places there wasn’t nearly as strong as it used to be. A few years of tight budgets and penny-pinching meant I wasn’t keeping up with the latest culinary fads.
“How about Wave?” I finally tried. “On the east side of Cincinnati?”
“I thought they were in Covington.”
“This is a new location,” I said, grasping at any small tidbit I could remember from the restaurant’s Instagram account, which had been served to me several times by the app algorithm. The pictures were gorgeous, but the tracking of my life by the app was annoying, and one of the other reasons why I hated social media, despite its necessity for a small business. “They just got an award from Midwest Living .”
“Oh really?” He gave me a full smile, this one adding a playful air to his demeanor. “Then I guess that’s the sign where we should definitely go.”
“I’ll see you there. Six thirty.”
“Looking forward to it,” Robert replied, and tapped the top of my car twice before I backed out of the remaining part of the parking spot. “See you then.”
I gave him a curt nod and finally navigated out of the small parking lot and onto Main Street, the bustling road that wove traffic through New Burlington’s downtown and business district. It wasn’t a far drive to my house, but it felt like it took forever, and I mulled over what had happened as I mindlessly drove the route. I was having drinks. Tomorrow. With Robert Kilgore. The guy whose mere presence in town posed a direct and existential threat to the small life I’d built.
And I was excited about it.
That part confused me the most.