Page 5 of Nice to Meet Boo
“Team name?” the emcee asks, his pumpkin bow tie cocked like a dare.
Stacey—someone’s written her name on a sticker in loopy letters—tilts her head, halo catching the light.
“Sinners in the Hands of an Angry… Barkeep.”
From behind the taps, Cyrus grunts without looking up. “Watch it.”
The emcee laughs, stamps our sheet. “Round one is Saints & Sinners Scavenger. Twenty minutes. Bring back: a feather, a matchbook, a shot glass, a red ribbon, a black ribbon, and a signed confession. Go.”
The bar explodes into motion. Stacey looks up at me like we’ve already been a team for years. “Ready for a tour?”
“I thought we were scavenging.”
She points at the door. “Main Street is full of low-hanging fruit. And fewer scavengers.”
“Fair enough.”
I let her tug me outside into air that smells like leaf mulch and chimney smoke. The bar pours gold onto the sidewalk; across the street, shop windows glow like jack-o’-lanterns—bakery, hardware, used books, a craft store bursting yarn.
She points as we walk, wings bouncing, voice bright.
“That’s Gretchen’s. The maple bars there are to die for. Next to it is Tilda’s Thrift. She’ll find a casserole dish just like the one your grandma had and talk your ear off. The bookstore cat is named Chairman Meow. He pretty much runs the town.”
“You know everyone,” I say.
“That’s small-town living.” She flashes me a smile, then adds, quieter, “I grew up here. I moved away for a few years, but came back this summer.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Love,” she says. Then: “And before you can ask, I came back for self-preservation. Rent in Seattle was astronomical and I wanted to be closer to my dad and brother.” She lifts a shoulder. “What are you doing in town?”
I nod up the block. “Rehabbing the old feed store. We’re putting in a café on the ground floor and apartments upstairs.”
Her face lights up. “That’s amazing. I love that building.”
“It’s a great spot. Good bones. Shit electrical wiring.”
“Oh my God, the lighting through the windows,” she says, eyes brightening. “The morning sun floods in from the east. It could be gorgeous once it’s fixed up.”
“Do you know this much about all of the old buildings in town or just this one?”
“What can I say? If there were a ‘Future of Main Street’ committee, I’d chair it and force everyone to dream big with me.” She grins. “I like imagining what things could be.”
That lands in the middle of my chest and makes a careful kind of sense. I build futures out of studs and screws. She builds them out of ideas.
It’s not a bad combination.
But, it’s also an impossible one to even consider. We just met. And I’m only passing through while she has roots. Deep ones.
“What’s first on that list?” I ask, hoping to change the subject to something safer.
“Feather first,” she says. “We could pluck my wings, but that feels illegal.”
“Breaking the Angel union bylaws?” I ask.
“Exactly.” She points ahead. “I know! The pet store.”
Grabbing my hand, she pulls me through the door.
