Page 60 of Falling for the Enemy

As Jocelyn continued setting up and dressing the tables for the day, Lola unloaded a variety of paints and brushes at the pumpkin painting station. She might have blue hair and make a living selling adult toys at Knotty & Nice, but she started her career as a preschool art teacher, so she still volunteered whenever the town had an arts-and-crafts request.

“Paige should be here soon with the pumpkins. Gus is driving them in on the hayride wagon.”

“Perfect.” Jocelyn snapped back the lid of her tea and winced at the first sip. Ugh, what the hell was Astrid giving her?

Saturdays were always busier than Fridays due to people’s work schedules. The shoppers wouldn’t be out for another hour or two, but the store owners were already dragging out awnings and tables, setting up goods to sell that day.

As a recognized board member and the town’s event chairperson, Jocelyn never completed a single task without interruption. Someone was always asking her something.

Where were the outlets?

Was it okay to park there?

Was there Wi-Fi access?

What time did the chili cookoff begin?

All of this information had been emailed to everyone who needed it multiple times, but the questions persisted. Jocelyn’s job was to keep things flowing.

Mayor Quimby loved to showboat, but rarely knew anything about the logistics of their festivals. Then there was Simon Mosely, jack of all trades and master of none. Simon liked to steal the mayor’s limelight by dressing up as Hideaway Bay’s mascot, Captain Claws.

And of course, none of this would be possible without their number one sponsor, Hawthorne Fishery. Jocelyn rolled her eyes at the Hawthorne’s contributed scarecrow on one of the lampposts by the wharf. Their scarecrow was usually a sea captain, but this year it wore a designer suit—most likely one stolen from Soren’s closet, a pretentious mocking of his new position as CEO put together by his brothers, no doubt.

By the time she choked down her tea and chased it with a chocolate bar, her foot was feeling better. Convinced Astrid was some sort of herbalist witch, she took Cordelia for a walk up Main Street to check on the shop owners and see if anyone needed anything.

As merchants waved and called good morning, Jocelyn felt her day shift. Her volunteer work grounded her in a way her regular job could not. It got her out of the house and into the community. It gave her the opportunity to help others and show some gratitude for the melting pot of people that had been her family since her mom and dad moved across the country and abandoned her a decade ago.

“Excuse me, Jocelyn Collins?”

Jocelyn turned to find a brunette woman holding a guitar case. “You must be Camille.”

“So nice to meet you. The woman at the café told me where to find you.”

Jocelyn reached out a hand. “You found me.”

She shifted her guitar to shake Jocelyn’s hand and revealed a round pregnant belly. Another pregnant woman just about her age. It was like the universe was trying to pick on her.

“Thank you again for the job.”

“Of course. The whole town’s been enjoying your sets. It’s time we give you a bigger stage. If you follow me down to the wharf, I can show you where to set up.”

By the time she showed Camille where she’d be performing for the day, the townspeople participating in the chili cookoff showed up. The briny autumn air mixed with woodsmoke and the sharp bite of warm chili seasonings as several crockpots warmed along the tables.

“Jocelyn, we’re out of outlets.”

“Already?” She’d put several power strips out that morning. “I’ll have one of my helpers get some more.”

By ten o’clock the vendors officially opened. The street filled with pedestrians as Camille’s angelic voice carried over the murmurs of shoppers. She strummed familiar folksy tunes on the guitar, favorite classics like Bobby McGee, and covers of Johnny Cash and The Cranberries. People on the grass lingered to sing along and hear what she might play next.

Everyone seemed to enjoy the new musician, praising the alternative edge she brought to old classics whenever they placed their votes at Jocelyn’s table. Some even laid blankets down to enjoy the concert while they tested chili samples and nibbled on pastries from the bakery while sipping hot cider and pumpkin lattes from the café.

Families wandered through, placing scarecrow votes and testing what each participant claimed was ‘the best chili they’ll ever try.’ Jocelyn had no doubt that the whole town would be farting up a storm by dinner.

“She’s the fifth pregnant woman I saw today,” Mrs. Larkin commented, eyes on Camille as she slipped her vote into the ballot box. “I think Hideaway is having a bit of a baby boom.”

“Or an epidemic,” Jocelyn muttered.

“What’s that, now?”