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“I think she’s just excited to leave the house.”
“She looks kinda familiar. Where are y’all from?”
“She’s from here,” I say. “I’m … not. Sorry, I need to check on something. I’ll be right back.”
In truth, I have no intention of doubling back to flirt some more with the cute firefighter.
Rowan seems nice and all, but I’m on duty. And Esme is a whole hell of a lot of work.
four
Rowan
Briar’s loose, red French braid cascades down past her shoulders, the end of it done in an orange flower, like a signpost directing my gaze to her plump bottom that swings as she marches to the craft tent.
I follow her, completely setting aside my duty to the farm-animal-portrait booth.
What choice do I have but to follow her everywhere?
She approached her friend with a strangely harried, maternal energy.
“I really hope I can fit all of that in my car.”
Her friend seems to not notice Briar’s stress level.
“I’m gonna be taking a knitting class!” her friend replies.
“That’s great,” Briar says, “I can arrange that. Which day would you like to do that? Maybe after your spa treatment next week?”
Her friend shakes her head.
One of the women, Billie Jean, who owns the yarn store in town, nods in agreement. “Class is about to begin in five minutes.”
Briar looks at her phone. “How long is the class? It’s already 6 p.m., and we have to make it home for dinner at seven.”
Her friend’s smile is unwavering, and so is her will. “Psssh. Frye will get over it. Besides, he’s probably already on his way to the airport, and who is going to snitch on me?”
I watch this exchange in fascination. Briar is younger, yet she seems to be in charge of the older one. It almost feels like a babysitting situation, but that can’t be right.
“If you’re hungry, there’s plenty of chili, not to mention food trucks. And later at the bonfire, we’ll be roasting hotdogs and bratwurst.”
Briar’s friend’s face lights up. “I’ve never had chili! Or hotdogs! Let’s stay for both of those things; it sounds amazing!”
I thrill at the suggestion. “That sounds like a fun night to me.”
Briar turns to me with a severe look in her eye, but I can’t help but notice the tiny smile.
“The both of you are going to get me fired.”
“No one is going to fire you, Briar. Not without me pitching a fit, and no one wants that,” the one called Esme says.
Billie Jean shoos us out of the tent. “Come back for your friend in an hour. I have a feeling she’s gonna be knitting up a storm by the end of the festival.”
I look at Briar’s friend pointedly and assure her that I’ll have Briar back in an hour to meet her. “Take your time. I’m happy to keep her company until you’re finished.”
I dare to put a hand on Briar’s back, between her shoulder blades, and lead her away from the crafting tent. “But I’m not supposed to take my eyes off of her,” she protests.
Leading her toward the donut booth, my stomach is rolling with hunger and excitement. “She’s in good hands. People herewill look out for her. Meanwhile, you look like you could use a break.”
