Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
RHEA
As I step out of my front door, I'm greeted by the soft aroma of blooming wildflowers. Suddenly, I notice an odd, metallic clang echoing softly against the usual morning calm.
It's then that I find Mrs. Patterson standing outside Mountain Mornings with a clipboard and the determined expression of a woman on a mission. “Oh, good, you're early. We need to discuss tomorrow evening. Your input is important.”
“What input?” I ask, fumbling with my keys as Duke sniffs the lamp post.
“For the concert, dear. The village council voted last night, so now we're hosting a surprise acoustic concert in the square tomorrow at sunset. Local artists only, very intimate, just for residents.” She consults her clipboard with the seriousness of a general planning a military operation.
“Emma's handling refreshments because she's always eager to help the community, Mrs. Chen is organizing seating since she wants everything in order for the guests, and I'm coordinating the technical requirements because I know how important the details are for everyone's enjoyment.”
I pause with my key halfway to the lock. “What concert? I didn't hear anything about the concert.”
“It was a last-minute decision. Jake Morrison suggested it during the council meeting, saying we needed more community events that highlight local talent.” Mrs. Patterson's eyes twinkle with poorly concealed mischief. “Case in Point agreed to perform, naturally.”
“Gray didn't mention anything about performing tomorrow.” I find it beyond odd that he wouldn’t tell me before Mrs. Patterson.
“Well, you know how modest he is. Probably didn't want to seem presumptuous about drawing a crowd.” She seems anxious to scurry off, looking over her shoulder like a woman on the run.
Gray is many things, but modest about his music isn't one of them.
The idea that he agreed to a surprise concert without telling me sends a cold prickle down my spine.
Unease blooms in my chest. Even small secrets can grow into misunderstandings and loneliness, and I promised myself I'd never stumble into that miserable place in our relationship again.
“When exactly did this council meeting happen?” I ask.
“Last night. Very spontaneous. Mrs. Chen called an emergency session to discuss spring tourism initiatives.” Mrs. Patterson is already backing away, clearly eager to escape further questioning. “I should run—so much to organize, so little time!”
Inside Mountain Mornings, I start my opening shift routine with growing suspicion.
During the year I've lived here, the village council has never called an emergency meeting, let alone one about tourism initiatives.
Mrs. Chen runs her bookstore with the precision of a Swiss watch, but she has never shown a particular interest in attracting new tourists or visitors.
When Emma arrives an hour later, she's practically vibrating with nervous energy, her cheeks flushed and her steps uneven. She’s carrying a notebook that she immediately tries to hide behind her back, as if it burns her hands.
“Morning! Beautiful day, isn’t it? Perfect for outdoor events.” Emma’s words rush out in one long sentence.
“What outdoor events?” What in the ever-loving hell is going on in Dogwood Hollow today?
“Oh, you know. General outdoor things. Hypothetically.” She continues to talk at the speed of a person using methamphetamines.
I study my best friend's face, searching her eyes as they flicker briefly to the side before returning to mine, now clouded with the unmistakable guilt and dread that knot my stomach.
Her fingers twitch, knuckles white, as she battles the urge to fidget with the hem of her shirt.
“You know about this concert thing, don't you?”
“What concert thing?” she asks, already turning away and fidgeting with the espresso machine.
I lift a suspicious brow. “The one Mrs. Patterson was just telling me about. The surprise acoustic concert tomorrow evening that Gray agreed to perform at without mentioning it to me.”
“Oh, that concert thing. Yes, I might have heard something about it.”
“Emma.”
“What?”
“You’re reorganizing clean cups.” I point out.
She stops mid-reorganization and sighs. “I can't tell you anything. I promised. I want to keep my word because everyone trusts me to keep the surprise.”
“Promised who?”
“Everyone. The entire village.” She turns to face me with guilty eyes.
“But it's a good surprise, Rhea. Everyone wants you to be happy, and we've each taken on secret roles because we all care about you and want to make sure everything is perfect just for you.
That's the only reason for all the secrecy.”
The mystery deepens as I speak with more villagers. Everyone seems to know about the concert, but no one will give me real answers. It feels like the whole village is in on a secret, and this event means more to everyone than just music.
By noon, I'm convinced the whole village is conspiring against me.
“This is ridiculous. Everyone knows something I don't know, and they're all terrible at hiding it,” I tell Duke as we walk home for lunch.
Duke responds by wagging his tail and pulling me toward Leslie's cottage, where I can see our eccentric neighbor arranging outdoor furniture on his front porch.
“Rhea, Suga Boo Boo!” Leslie calls out when he spots us, waving us over. “Perfect timing. I need a woman's opinion on color coordination.” He gestures to several folding chairs that he's arranged in precise rows. “Do you think the burgundy cushions will clash with the natural lighting at sunset?”
“Leslie, why do you have twenty folding chairs on your porch?” Why is everyone behaving in such a bizarre manner?
“Oh, these aren't for my porch. They're for tomorrow's... community gathering.” He stops himself short, correcting whatever he was going to initially say.
“The concert everyone knows about but won’t tell me about?” I glare at him, up to my eyeballs in frustration.
Leslie's expression becomes elaborately innocent. “I'm sure I don't know what you mean.”
“You're arranging chairs for an event you don't know about?” My hands fly to my hips.
“I'm... redecorating. Temporarily. Very temporarily.” He adjusts one of the chairs by precisely two inches. “You should wear a dress that’s special tomorrow evening, by the way, one that makes you feel beautiful.”
“Why would I need to feel beautiful for a casual community concert?”
“Who said anything about a concert?” Leslie asks, then sighs.
I stare at him for a long moment, watching his face cycle through several emotions before settling on resignation.
“Leslie, what is happening tomorrow night?” I demand answers after this long, strange day.
“A really, really wonderful thing,” he says softly, finally letting go of his feigned ignorance.
“This event has been planned because everyone here wants you to feel cherished, Rhea.
We all want you to know how much you mean to this village, which is why everyone is involved and discreet. That's the only hint I'll give.”
Back at my apartment, I find Duke behaving strangely. Instead of settling into his favorite spot on the couch for his afternoon nap, he keeps wandering to the window and whining softly, like he's waiting for something.
“What's wrong, boy?” I join him at the window.
The view shows our quiet street, but as I watch, I notice an unusual amount of activity.
Andrew is carrying sound equipment into the village square.
Parker and Wyatt are stringing lights between the trees surrounding the gazebo.
Even from my second-floor window, I can see that what they’re setting up is far more elaborate than a simple community concert.
My phone buzzes with a text from Gray.
Gray: Miss you. I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Wear something that makes you feel like yourself.
A warm flush spreads across my cheeks as I read his words, and my heart does a little flutter.
His message is simple yet deeply personal, igniting my anticipation.
Tomorrow night is starting to feel like an important moment that’ll be filled with the kind of magic that Gray always manages to bring into my life.
With everyone hinting about dressing up, it's clear the village is preparing for something more significant than a casual musical performance.
Rhea: What should I know about tomorrow night?
The response comes immediately.
Gray: That I love you more than music, more than mountains, more than morning coffee. That you saved my life by letting me save myself. Tomorrow night is going to be perfect because you'll be there.
The words are beautiful and romantic, but they tell me absolutely nothing about what’s happening.
Duke chooses that moment to abandon his window vigil and trot to my bedroom, where he sits beside my closet and looks at me expectantly.
“You too? Are you in on whatever this is?” I ask my dog.
His tail wags once, like he's confirming my suspicions.
I open my closet and sift through my clothes.
If everyone expects me to dress up, I might as well give it a try.
My heart skips a beat when I spot the blue dress I bought months ago but never had an occasion to wear.
The color catches the light, and the fabric whispers against my fingertips.
It's romantic but not too formal, perfect for a spring evening steeped in magic and uncertainty.
Duke's tail wags more enthusiastically when I pull out the dress, as if he approves of my choice.
“Okay,” I tell him, settling onto my bed with growing anticipation rather than anxiety. “I don't know what tomorrow night is really about, but if the entire village is this excited about it, it must be a wonderful event.”
Outside my window, the preparation continues. I can see Gray now, guitar in hand, conferring with his bandmates near the gazebo. Even from this distance, there's a different energy about his posture—nervous but also excited.
Whatever is happening tomorrow night, he's been planning for a while. It involves the entire village because they want to show me how much I matter to them. As the village lights twinkle on, I watch from my window, heart open and brimming with hope.