Page 181 of Sugar & Shadows

I looked down at the journal she’d left me, tears blurring my vision. The first page contained a letter that I couldn’t bring myself to read. My heart clenched and my hands shook every time I thought about her last words to me.

Speaking of clenching, my back ached as my muscles tensed. I gripped the chair in front of me while the people around the table continued to discuss the events of the weekend.

“It was so generous of her to contribute funding toward the Games,” Meg said.

“Not to mention the scholarship for Harper,” Nina added.

Harper frowned. “It’s designated as a trust fund for ‘mischief and bail,’” she said. “Not sure that means college tuition.”

“You’re assuming they’re mutually exclusive.” Meg laughed.

Nina snorted.

“While the donation is amazing,” Gabe said, “I’m not sure about her conditions. We can’t legally require sleeveless participation.”

“Sure we can,” Nina said. “I think her decree that all participants shall chop wood sleeveless was pretty reasonable.”

“Shirtless would be taking it too far,” Meg added. “This is just good branding.”

“I can work with it,” Harper added, typing furiously.

“What about the maple syrup?” Mom asked.

“Again, dousing the winner in maple syrup Gatorade-style is brilliant,” Harper said. “We can do a tie-in with the farm that supplies it. Maybe as prizes.”

“We can make a note to pitch it to sponsors too,” Nina said. “What about a T-shirt with a graphic of dripping syrup on the front and I survived the Maplewood Games?”

“The merch meeting isn’t till next month,” Meg reminded her.

I winced, feeling woozy again. Maybe I needed more water.

Despite the nausea, I was filled with pride. The Games were happening. The town was thriving. And TAP was leading the way.

And then it hit me. Marigold had already done it. She’d saved the town. She’d used her final months and her legacy to ensure Maplewood’s success and prosperity for future generations. And she’d trusted us to finish the job for her.

The conversation went even farther off the rails as the team debated merch, possible hashtags, and whether we could require competitors to chug shots of maple syrup before events. I needed to get this meeting back on track.

“Vendor permit applications are due next week,” I interjected.

The room went quiet, and all attention snapped to me. Rather than interest, they looked at me in concern.

Gabe jumped to his feet. “Sit down,” he said, pulling out a chair.

“I’m fine.”

“Um. Is it just me or was that a contraction?” Harper asked.

Another wave of pain stole my breath, but when it passed, I lifted my chin. “It’s nothing. Mom, where are we on the pending insurance applications?”

Another wave of pain shot through me, this one far stronger, and it didn’t fade in a matter of seconds like the last one.

“I downloaded an app for this,” Harper shouted. “We’ve got to time them.”

“Put the phone away,” I growled.

“But we need to collect data,” she argued.

I ignored her, lacing my fingers over my belly. “And why does insurance cost more than fireworks—Oh shit.” A torturous rolling sensation started in my spine and flowed through my entire body, making my knees buckle.