16. Everett #2
As it gets later in the afternoon, people start to head home, leaving behind empty tables and a few stray balloons.
I look around at the fundraiser, at the joy on everyone’s faces, and at Violet.
She is kneeling to help a little boy tie his shoe, and I realize, this is what it’s all about.
Not just the theater, not just the money, but the memories, the laughter, the connection.
I think again about the theater, about the fundraiser, about her. Dreaming of what this place could mean to others, filled with memories for them, and hopefully, someday memories for us.
She glances up at me, catching my gaze. Her lips curved in that soft, familiar smile, and I felt a warmth spread through me. I want to freeze this moment, hold it in my chest, keep it just as it is.
The sky started turning that soft golden color that only showers up right before sunset. The band packed up their instruments, the last few kids wandered away clutching sticky cotton candy, and the petting zoo animals were being loaded back into the trailer from Brooks farm.
I stand near the silent auction table, scanning the sheets one more time, when people gather their things and slowly drift toward home. A few balloons bounce lazily against the string lights overhead, and the scent of popcorn still lingers in the air.
I let out a slow breath. It worked. Not just a little, it had really worked.
The Fundraiser continued on for the day. Families with little kids started to leave early, but most of the people stayed throughout the day, going from the movie theater to the food trucks, playing games and sitting at the tables and listening to the live music, tapping their feet to the beat.
Violet appears beside me, carrying a stack of empty trays from the café stand, her hair slightly messy now from the long day, and a faint smudge of powdered sugar on her cheek.
“You look like someone who just realized he survived his own event,” she says, nudging my arm with her elbow.
I laugh under my breath. “That obvious?”
She sets the trays down on a nearby table and glances around the square. A few townspeople are still lingering, folding chairs and stacking game boards from the lawn games.
“People are staying to help clean up,” she says softly.
I follow her gaze.
Henry is hauling a table toward the truck. Mr. Brooks and his sons are gathering the hay bales from the petting zoo. Even Mrs. Calloway is carefully collecting the auction sheets and tucking them in a folder.
My chest tightens.
“Small town,” Violet says, like she can hear the thought forming in my head.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
We start folding chairs together, the quiet rhythm of metal scraping lightly against pavements filling the space between us.
“Today was incredible,” she says after a moment.
“It really was,” I reply.
The street is still scattered with signs of the day, chalkboard menus, game booths, and strings of lights swaying gently in the evening breeze. But what I notice most are the people.
Neighbors laugh while they carry tables. Kids helping stack chairs. Someone clapping Henry’s back as they walk past. It doesn’t feel like people are just leaving. It feels like they are wrapping up something they are a part of.
Something they are proud of.
“You brought the town together today,” Violet says.
“I didn’t do it alone.”
“No,” she agreed. “But you started it.”
“Thank you for your help again today, Firefly, you made it extra special.” The word flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Violet stops, looks up at me, “Firefly?” she asks.
“Everett!”
I turn to see Mr. Brooks walking toward me, wiping his hands on his jeans. Thank God he interrupted me. I didn’t mean to call her that, it just slipped out before I had a chance to correct myself.
“Just wanted to say,” he says nodding toward the theater behind us, “that was one hell of a turnout today.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling a sense of relief that someone else other than Violet and myself enjoyed the event.
He glances toward the theater doors. “That place is going to be good for this town.”
Something warm settles in my chest. “I hope so.”
Mr. Brooks chuckles. “No hoping about it. People want something like this around here again.”
Behind him, Mrs. Calloway walks over. “I’ve got the totals from the auction,” she announces.
Henry appears a second later, tossing a folded banner in the truck bed.
“Well?” I ask.
Mrs. Calloway adjusts her glasses and glances down at the page.
“You raised almost $3000. The theater renovation fund is off to a very good start,” she says slowly.
Henry lets out a whistle. “Not bad for your first town event, big bro.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re serious?” I ask.
Mrs. Calloway nods. “People believe in this place, and they are glad you came back to Lavender Creek.”
The words catch me off guard, for a long time after coming home, I felt like the guy who left, the one who walked away from the ranch.
The one who tried to build a life somewhere else.
But standing here now, with the town cleaning up around me, the theater lights glowing behind us, and Violet here with me, it feels different.
Like maybe I wasn’t the guy who left anymore. Maybe I was the guy who came back.
Henry clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Told ya it would work.”
I glance at Violet. She is watching me, that soft smile on her face again. The one that makes everything feel steady. The one that makes Lavender Creek feel like home.
“Looks like I’ve got a theater to finish renovating,” I say.
Violet laughs quietly. “And a town that is very excited about it.”
Mrs. Calloway waves the auction binder. “And don’t forget a fundraiser that exceeded expectations.”
The group slowly starts heading their separate ways after that, trucks pulling away one by one until the square grows quiet again. Soon, it is just Violet and me standing near the theater steps. The string lights still glowed overhead, casting warm pools of light across the empty street.
She crosses her arms lightly, glancing toward the building. “We did it,” she says smiling at me.
And for a moment, neither of us move. I look up at the theater sign, imagining the future it holds, movies playing late into the night, crowds filling the seats, and memories inside those walls.
But tonight, the memory I want to remember is her standing here beside me, watching the town slowly fall quiet after one incredible day. For the first time since coming back to Lavender Creek, I don’t feel like I am trying to fit into a life that had moved on without me.
I feel like I belong here again.