Page 31 of Just Let Go

Well, this was going to be fun.

Grady followed the short guy through a hallway and into an open space at the Harbor Pointe convention and visitors’ bureau. It was a small town, but it was a tourist town, and they had a decent baseofoperations for whatever festival—carnival—they had to plan.

They’d practically finished at Hazel’s. One lousy day was all it took to put things right, and he was still sentenced to five weeks in this hole, so his next assignment was to help with this town event.

More than once, he’d almost gotten in his car and taken off, straight down the highway toward Colorado, where he could finally prove himself and get his life back.

But whatever small dose of common sense he had left stopped him. He didn’t need more time added to his sentence. As it was, he’d only get one shot to qualify. If he wiped out, if he overshot a curve, if he miscalculated, if he just wasn’t fast enough—he wasn’t going back to the Olympics, he’d lose his endorsements, and Benji would never see him win the gold.

That couldn’t happen.

When they walked into the open space, Grady saw a handful of people situated in armchairs or standing around the room. Theywere broken off in groups, talking, laughing, doing what he supposed small-town people did on a Tuesday night.

But as was happening a lot lately, everyone stopped and stared as soon as they realized he was there. He didn’t know if people were genuinely interested in him, like the short guy, or if they were annoyed with him for starting a fight and damaging their favorite diner, like Quinn. But either way, he didn’t mind the attention. He was used to it, and truth be told, he’d kind of missed it.

He’d grown up in some sort of spotlight, and it had grown right along with him. What would he do when no one was shining a light on him anymore?

Ryan Brooks, the only person in the room he recognized besides Quinn and the old guy he’d sat across from at dinner the night before, lifted a hand in greeting. The guy was decent—he’d been patient and helpful in the work they’d done on the diner—but that didn’t change Grady’s mind about being there. Still, when Ryan told him about this Winter Carnival meeting, it didn’t sound like he was mentioning it as a courtesy. Grady understood—he had to be there. It was part of the deal.

“Hey, Grady, you made it,” Ryan said.

“I did. Not sure what I’m doing here, but here I am.” He’d never been to a town meeting in his life.

Quinn sat down in one of the armchairs with Denny—no, Danny—tagging along beside her. When he saw there wasn’t a seat next to her, he turned in a full circle, a dazed expression on his face, and pulled a folding chair up next to her.

“We’ll go ahead and call this meeting to order.” A bright woman with neatly styled white hair stood at a small podium near the front of the room. The chairs had been positioned to face her, and now, somewhat in the middle of the commotion, Grady felt even more conspicuous than usual.

“Mrs. Trembley, before we start, I just want to introduce everyone to Grady Benson,” Ryan said. “He’s going to be with us for a few weeks.”

“Oh, right. The community-service skier.” The white-haired woman straightened the scarf around her neck as she peered at him through thin glasses.

“He’s an Olympian, Martha,” the man from last night’s dinner said. “A genuine Olympic athlete.”

Heads turned in his direction—all but one. Quinn Collins was noticeably unwilling to glance his way. Not that he noticed.

“It’s good to be here,” Grady said, which was, of course, a lie. He’d rather be almost anywhere else, actually. He even thought for a split second he’d rather be back home than stuck here in Harbor Pointe, but he quickly realized that wasn’t true either.

So with that one exception, he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I take it you’re here to work?” Mrs. Trembley glared at him.

“Yes, ma’am. I think you’ll find I’m a big help to yourfestivalhere.” He’d said it on purpose this time—and as he suspected, Miss Collins shot him a look. He raised an eyebrow in her direction and she rolled her eyes, then quickly looked away. Okay, this could be a little bit fun.

“The Winter Carnival is our largest off-season event. It’s nothing to take lightly.” Trembley again. He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to win that one over.

“I wouldn’t dream of that, ma’am.”

“Good. Well, listen up.” She wagged a bony finger at him. “We have a lot of business to attend to.”

“She’s harmless,” Ryan said. “Just particular. Like pretty much everyone in this room.”

Everyone?He glanced at Quinn but swallowed his questions about her. He didn’t need to start inquiring about anyone who lived in this awful town, but especially not Quinn Collins.

The meeting droned on. Grady checked out after about ten minutes, choosing instead to browse his social media accounts. Sometimes—out of sheer curiosity—he’d scan Twitter just to see what people were saying. Usually it gave him a nice little boost tosee fans talking about his latest run, but not tonight. Tonight it was nothing but negative.

Benson, hang up your skis before you embarrass yourself. #YoureDone

Anyone else feel sorry for Harbor Pointe, MI? Saddled with Grady Benson and all that baggage.

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