The lone man on the committee interrupts. “We were just talking about how your move to Maplewood is the best thing that’s ever happened to our town.” Then he points to his name tag. “My name is Bob, by the way.”

“Well, thanks, Bob,” I say slowly, suddenly feeling bad that I’m going to dash Bob’s hopes. “I haven’t really done anything for Maplewood.”

Another woman named Judy raises her hand. “Excuse me, Mr. Knight, but you have done so much. You’ve given us hope again. We’re nearly giddy with excitement about how this concert is going to change our town.”

Everyone is nodding and smiling, like I’m some sort of town savior sent to rescue Maplewood. I shift in my seat uncomfortably. It’s too much to expect, especially when I can’t deliver on this promise. These people are doing this for genuine reasons—because they believe in this town. It’s not a matter of money; it’s saving a part of their history.

I hold my hands up to stop the committee. “I think that’s a little much to expect from one person, which is why I’m not...”

“We don’t expect anything, Mr. Knight,” Bob says. “We already think you’re great!”

“But I’m not a miracle worker.”

“You’re being modest,” Cora purrs with an adoring smile. “You’re one of the most popular country rock stars ever. We’re so honored to have you in Maplewood. We’ll do everything we can to make this your best concert ever.” Then she leans toward me and pats my hand. “We know this year hasn’t been easy.”

I frown.That’s one way of putting it.

Mia covers her eyes, embarrassed by her mom’s concern.

“That’s kind of you, to want to help,” I begin, trying to steer this ship back to why I’m here. “And there’s nothing you or I can do to fix this year.” Especially when my career is in the tank. “Unfortunately, I need some time to recover from things.”

Cora’s mouth sags. “Do you mean you can’t do the concert?”

I bristle under her devastated look. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.”

“But thereisno one else,” Cora insists, then glances at her daughter for help.

Until now, Mia has been staring at the table in humiliation. Her mother’s gaze seems to shake her from her silence.

“Can’t?” Mia asks. “Or won’t?”

“Both,” I say.

She hesitates, then taps a finger on the edge of the table. “How much time do you need? Could you take a few days and then decide?”

“That won’t help,” I reply, even though I know I’m in no place to decide right now. I’m exhausted, and this meeting clearly came at a bad time.

“We’ll do everything for you,” she says. “Marketing, tickets, promotion. And it’s a Christmas concert. Different from your others.”

“My team is tired. I don’t even have a personal assistant right now. She quit on me last week.”

Cora’s face brightens. “I know someone who’d make a wonderful assistant for you.” She turns toward her daughter. “Mia has loads of experience assisting famous people.”

“Mom,” she says, through clenched teeth. “I already have a job, remember?”

“But you’re incredible at managing eventsandpeople. Remember when you were the manager for that indie rock band?”

“What band was that?” I ask, curious.

“An all-female metal rock band called The Terminators,” Mia says.

Cora leans toward me. “Not really my style. I’d much rather hear you sing any day of the week.”

“They’re no longer together,” Mia adds. “And why don’t we get back to the topic at hand, which is whether Mr. Knight can do this concert?” She straightens her spine, like she’s shifting into a new role: businesswoman.

“I can’t,” I say firmly.

The committee looks around.