Page 39 of Over the Edge

“No,” I say. “I didn’t.”

“Try telling Pat that,” Poppy says as Pat moves onto the next point of order.

“What’s wrong with wine tasting?” Evelyn asks.

“I’ll tell you later. You’ll probably love it,” I explain.

The wine tasting is the one assignment for the festival that people avoid like the plague. The wine itself is great. But the Barlowes have been known to change what they donate to the festival based on how much they like the people sent to the taste testing. On some occasions the good stuff has all been “out of stock” other times they give the town extra, allowing the celebration to stretch an extra day with the alcohol alone. So it’s safe to say Pat would like me to shut the hell up.

The agenda alternates between things that matter and things that only matter to the town in their own special way. Love is Brewing is thinking about transitioning to a coffee roaster in Rochester. There’s a pothole that’s given three tourists flats in the last month and simply won’t stay filled. The high school band wants permission to change their set list for the festival.

Once Pat gives the final bang of the gavel, everyone rises from their chairs in a practiced but chaotic fashion. People do their best to not drag the chairs but there’s a decent amount of clanging and scraping.

“Time for trivia?” Evelyn asks.

“If you want to.” It’s part of the reason I brought her here, but if she doesn’t want to stay we don’t have to, even if it means having Alina saying something about it later.

“Do you?

“I’m not allowed to play.” My phone buzzes in my pocket and I reach to silence it at risk of angering Pat even more.

“You’re kidding.” Evelyn’s eyes shine with delight. “Got caught cheating? Couldn’t handle losing? You’re starting to sound like a deviant.”

“No. I’m a little too good at winning,” I admit.

“Of course that’s why.” She playfully rolls her eyes.

“The jerk’s never lost a game. Not fair to the rest of us who want to enjoy some good competition,” Pat explains as she walksup next to us. “He has the honor of tallying points. I came over to tell you that I’m taking drink orders for the next ten minutes before we get going.”

Pat gives me a hearty thump on my back before she heads off to tell others to get to the bar.

“So, stay or leave?” I ask, trying not to act like I care either way. I’m hit with an unexpected wave of protectiveness for the town. I don’t give a shit about what the tourists see, but this is special. These are people who mean something to me, and I want her to see that they’re worth more than the cute shop names and a marketable theme. They are the heart and soul of Hartsfall; the reason people believe in happy endings.

“How do I join in?” she asks with genuine curiosity that puts my fears to rest.

I break down the rules, then Evelyn splits off and joins a group with Alina, Poppy, and Sara. Within moments she strikes up a conversation with them. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. My phone starts to buzz again. Probably Wes is just bored, a few hours alone won’t kill him. The only people who would call me in an emergency are in this room, so I silence the phone again.

“I could make an exception for tonight,” Pat says as I meet her at the folding table that has been set up with the list of questions, a microphone, and score sheets.

“Don’t go getting any ideas. I already have Alina’s matchmaking delusions.” The last thing I need are more people pushing me in Evelyn’s direction. I can handle being around her for two weeks, but it’s smart for me to not test my limits. Anything more than what we’re up to is a one-way trip to one or both of us getting hurt. Even if she saw me that way, I’d just disappoint her. I’m not exactly the open, carefree type that can get swept up in the moment with her.

“If that’s how you want to play it. Pick up a pencil and get ready to help me read the most god-awful handwriting known to man.”

“I’mnotplaying it any specific way.”

“And you’re alsonotlooking over to check in on her every five seconds when it seems like she has a damn good handle on fitting in,” Pat says, feigning disinterest while reviewing the first set of questions.

I glance over, despite myself, to see Evelyn talking animatedly, like she’s been coming here for ages. For the rest of the first half, each time I look she’s cheering or booing along with her team, immersing herself in the game.

By the time we reach the lightning round, my phone rings for a third time, earning me a warning look from Pat. I won’t risk pulling it out and buying nearly a third of the town drinks. I can afford it, but it's the principle of it. After the town hall meeting wrapped up, more people have filled the space to the point where it’s standing room only. There’s likely a fire code being broken, but that’s not news to anyone.

“I’m going to get this,” I tell Pat after she turns up the music for the one-minute time allotted for team members to deliberate and bring up their answers.

“Take your time. We have a break before the second half starts. Turn the damn thing off before you come back in.” She waves me toward the door.

Outside, the parking lot is full. Trucks are parked off the edge of the packed pavement. I walk to a shadowed corner away from the buzzing streetlamp and old gas station sign. My phone goes off again and Lana’s contact lights up my phone as I slip it from my pocket.

“Yeah?” I answer, the word heavy on my tongue. My hand squeezes the phone to prevent it from shaking.

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