14. Sophie #2
Helen reached me slightly out of breath, one hand still pressed against the clipboard like it might somehow contain better news if she squeezed hard enough.
“Sophie.”
“Helen?”
“We’ve got a problem,” she wheezed.
I took a deep breath, braced myself, and asked, “What happened?”
“The headlining band.”
My stomach dropped. Not metaphorically either. I’m fairly certain several internal organs briefly changed floors. “What about them?”
Helen looked around before lowering her voice, although not nearly enough considering half a dozen people nearby had already started pretending not to listen. “They’re not coming.”
For one second, everything around me seemed to disappear—the music, the laughter, the crowd. Even the smell of burgers and hot dogs faded into the background as my brain locked on to exactly three horrifying words.
They’re. Not. Coming.
Amazing how such a tiny statement could instantly shave ten years off a person’s life expectancy.
I shook away my brain fog. “What do you mean they’re not coming?”
“I just got off the phone with their manager.” Helen pressed a hand against her forehead. “Their van broke down almost two hours away. Tow truck’s on its way, but they won’t make it here today.”
I stared at her. “You can’t be serious?”
She dropped her hand and glared at me. “Of course I’m serious! They’ve canceled.”
They’ve canceled.
My heart hammered in my ears.
“What are we going to do?” whispered Helen. For the first time since I’d known her, she didn’t sound like the woman who’d organized yearly successful festivals. She sounded scared. And her face paled. Oh yeah. Panic pale.
Been there. Done that.
A lot.
I didn’t have an answer. My brain, which had spent the last forty-eight hours enthusiastically inventing imaginary disasters, had decided that a real one was far too much responsibility.
Out of the corner of my eye, movement caught my attention.
Across the square, Sheriff Walker looked up from where he’d been talking with one of his deputies.
Our eyes met—again. He frowned at whatever he saw on my face, which was probably a constipated look.
He didn’t rush over. Thank god. Because that would have been embarrassing.
I took one slow breath. Come on. Think. Panicking wasn’t a strategy. It was a terrible hobby I’d become alarmingly good at.
Think.
Somewhere in the back of my mind… Something clicked.
Music. The little pub with my friend Sasha. Two weeks ago. The band…
And then it hit me. “Hang on.” I grabbed my phone so quickly with trembling fingers I nearly dropped it.
Helen blinked at me. “What are you doing?”
“I… I think I have an idea.”
“You do?”
“I said think. Let’s not get carried away.”
My fingers flew across the screen as I opened Google. Come on… What was the name? “The Riverstone Ramblers!”
Helen stared. “Who?”
“The Riverstone Ramblers.” My thumbs were already typing.
“A friend of mine dragged me to Murphy’s Pub a couple of weeks ago because she can’t walk past live music without treating it like a civic obligation.
They were incredible. Country. A little folk.
Everybody was singing along.” I found the band’s website and practically jabbed the screen.
“Please… please have a phone number… There.” I pointed triumphantly.
Helen leaned closer. “You found them?”
“I found their manager.”
Before I could lose my nerve, I pressed the little green phone icon. The line rang once. Twice. Then…
“Riverstone Ramblers. Stan speaking.” His voice sounded cheerful.
Good sign.
“Hi!” I said, perhaps a little too loudly. “My name’s Sophie Hartwell. This is probably the strangest phone call you’re going to get today.”
There was a brief pause. “I’ve likely had stranger.”
“Our headlining band for the Maplewood Falls Summer Festival just canceled.” I glanced at Helen, whose eyes had grown wider with every word.
“Their van broke down a couple of hours away, and I’m desperately hoping this is one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments where the universe decides to be nice instead of… you know… itself.”
Stan laughed. “How soon do you need a band?”
I looked toward the main stage and then at Helen. “About…” I swallowed. “An hour?”
Another pause. Long enough for my optimism to begin packing its bags.
“No problem,” said Stan.
My mouth dropped open. “Really?”
“Yup. We’re rehearsing fifteen minutes outside town.”
My heart actually skipped.
“I can have the boys loaded up and headed your way in twenty minutes,” Stan continued. “Just text me the load-in location and stage schedule. We’ll take it from there.”
“Oh my god. You’re amazing.”
He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes.” I laughed too. “Definitely yes.”
“We’ll see you soon.”
The call ended.
For a second, I just stood there staring at my phone. I glanced at Helen. “They’re coming.”
Helen’s mouth actually fell open. “I…” She shook her head in complete disbelief.
“Sophie… that was…” She laughed. A relieved, slightly breathless laugh, but I could see the color returning to her face.
“I knew I hired the right person for this job. Good work.” With one last smile, Helen disappeared into the crowd leaving me standing there, still in a bit of a shock.
And then something strange happened to me.
I smiled.
Because something inside me shifted.
Because maybe I wasn’t pretending anymore.
Maybe I finally knew what I was doing.