Page 97 of Forbidden to Fall

“Oooh, no, darlin’,” May said, closing the cash box. “Top Ramen is not on the menu tonight. You’ll be havin’ a proper meal.”

“I agree,” James said. “But you’re not cookin’, Mama. You need rest and a proper meal too.”

“Well, then,” she said. “That leaves us one option, doesn’t it?”

We all looked down the street toward Maple Bar and Grill, the town’s main food joint.

When we walked through the doors, it was…lively. Evidently, we weren’t the only ones with the idea.

I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the server set my plate in front of me. After two days of selling butter, flour, and sugar to people, the intense saltiness of a burger and fries was everything I hadn’t known I needed—and a craving Top Ramen would’ve only tickled.

We chatted about the last two days, swapping stories of funny customers and discussing some of the events that had taken place—crafts, carnival games, the petting zoo—until we all sat back to give our full tummies space to expand, surrounded by the buzz of chatter and a deep sense of contentment.

James and May had arrived in separate cars, which were parked well down the street, thanks to Main being closed off for the festival. I could’ve gone straight to my apartment, but as exhausted as I should have been, my body was teeming with leftover adrenaline.

Coming this close to kissing a pig will do that to you.

James helped his mom into her car, and I waved as she backed out and drove off.

James turned toward me, and we smiled at each other.

“Congratulations on becoming a town sensation,” he said.

I shook my head. “Couldn’t have done it without you and your mom. Quite literally.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

The ambiguous words settled over us.

“Are you headed for bed, then?” he asked. “You must be wiped out.”

“Weirdly, I’m not? I got tired after that burger, but I feel like I got a second wind.” I blinked as something hit my cheek. I looked up and laughed when I got hit again, this time on the forehead. “It’s raining.” Apparently, I was in the business of stating the obvious, like Karen on Mean Girls.

James put out his palms, testing my assessment. “Glad it waited until we closed up shop.”

“Me too.”

Our gazes met as we both realized what this meant. It was raining, and the booths, while unmanned, were still up.

James glanced up the street. “We should probably⁠—”

“Yeah.”

We jogged down Main toward the maple farm booth.

I worked on rolling up the table runner while James made sure all essential items were as protected as possible. Boy Scout that he was, he’d stashed a folded-up tarp under the booth for just such a time as this. We draped it over the booth, the cold rain pelting us harder with each passing minute. Other booth owners were taking measures to protect their at-risk items, though a number of people had gone home for the evening. We ran down the line, doing our best to set things under available surfaces, hoping the rain wouldn’t stick around too long.

We reached the bakery booth, which, thanks to its lack of Boy Scout employees, had no tarps lying in wait. The bakery itself was so near that we just grabbed stuff and ran it there.

I fished the key out of my crossbody bag to unlock the door. My hair was taking the opportunity the rain provided to frizz up like Medusa. There was no time to worry about that, though. We set things down on the counter, then ran back for another load.

When we stepped out of Keller’s a couple of minutes later, the rain was coming down harder and faster than ever. Most other booths had done their best or abandoned ship, making the slap of rain on pavement the only sound on the street.

I fumbled for the key in my purse, blinking to keep the rain from dripping into my eyes. The bakery had a pathetically small overhang—essentially useless in this situation—and I laughed at my lack of coordination as my cold, slippery hands fumbled to find the key.

James made a tent with his hands to cover my head.