Page 59 of Falling for the Enemy

“NO PROMISES, NO DEMANDS. LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD.”

Jocelyn’s breathing hadn’t calmed down until she parked in town. For all she knew, Soren was still in her house. She couldn’t think about him. Not what he said or what he might want to talk about. It was all ridiculous.

The street was still quiet as she walked Cordelia towards the wharf. The scarecrows were out and about, uniquely decorated to reflect each store’s aesthetic and draw attention for the judges today.

The judges were an elite board of grade schoolers prepared to abuse their authority and take bribes of candy. It was the only form of corruption that Hideaway Bay allowed, and now it was an annual tradition.

“Jocelyn, dear, I thought that was you!” Astrid paused from sweeping outside of the Wilde Kettle. “Well, good morning, Cordelia. I’d bend to pet you, but my hip’s been in a fit for days. Jocelyn, did I see you limping?”

“I twisted my ankle last night.”

Astrid clicked her tongue. “Oh, that’s a shame. Let me get you something for the inflammation.”

“That’s okay⁠—”

“Now, now, don’t argue. I know a thing or two about aches and pains, and I won’t take no for an answer. You just stay here while I mix a tincture up. Maybe take in our beautiful scarecrow. Wren designed it this year.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that.” Jocelyn never went inside the Wilde Kettle on account of all the dust and cats lying around.

As she waited on the sidewalk for Astrid to return, she admired her scarecrow as instructed, smiling at the creativity. Judging by the flowy skirt, long blonde hair made of hay, and the feathered top hat, it was supposed to be Stevie Nicks.

Clever.

“Here you are, Jocelyn.” Astrid handed her a brown bag of herbs. “You take that down to Esther and have her steep it in hot water for you. It’ll have that swelling down in no time and should help with the pain.”

“Will it cause drowsiness?”

“Not at all. I cut it with yerba so it should give you a nice kick in the ass.”

“Thanks, Astrid. What do I owe you?”

“Don’t insult me. You just be sure to send those children up here with their ballots. Tell them we have candied apples—the good caramel kind, not those red ones the jeweler’s pushing.”

It was ground-level corruption at its finest. “I’ll be sure to let the judges know.”

After Jocelyn stopped by the Harbor Crumb to get her tea brewed, she headed to the green. The tables were already set up and draped in deep red linens with miniature hay bale centerpieces. Jocelyn unloaded the bowl of Halloween candy from her tote and set it beside the wooden ballot boxes—one box for the chili cookoff votes and one for the scarecrows.

Cordelia perked up the moment she spotted Rufus sleeping in the gazebo, so Jocelyn took a few minutes to walk over and let the dogs play. Rufus was older than dirt, so he didn’t have much pep, but Cordelia pranced around him regardless, being her usual spastic self.

“Hey, Joce,” Lola approached the gazebo with a large box in her arms. “You’re here early.”

“Morning, Lola. I’m meeting the new musician.”

“Oh, that must be the girl I saw performing on the corner the other day. Talented. Where did you find her?”

“I think she found us first. Wren got her card for me.”

“Well, I’m glad. We need a new female musician to mix things up. Maybe get some good feminist rage music on the setlist and we can have ourselves a party.”

“Uh, I think she does mostly folksy covers of stuff from the early two-thousands and the nineties.”

“I’m gonna ask if she knows that “Goodbye Earl” song. That gets all the girls going.”

Jocelyn laughed. “Nothin’ like a song about murdering an abusive ex.”

“Hey,” Lola shrugged. “Earl had to die.”

She wasn’t wrong.