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Robert, I love this idea! I have plenty of students who would jump at the chance to participate in creating your float this year. I am sure they will welcome the opportunity to spend part of their summer being productive!
The message followed with a list of five names and phone numbers. Smiling at that, I locked my phone again and placed an order for bourbon. New Burlington wasn’t a place I had ever seen myself returning to, but so far, the move back had turned out to be an inspired decision. People were friendlier here, more willing to help, and knitted closer together than the ones I knew in New York. That had value.
I’m getting used to this, I thought as my second drink arrived.And that’s a great thing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANYA
“I can’t believe this.” I locked my phone and dropped it on the nearby chair, frustrated by the latest text. My cheeks warmed in annoyance. “Nobody can help me with the float.”
Morgan stopped cutting open the inventory box. She helped me once a week at the store, and just like most Sundays, this one was slow. We hadn’t had a customer since noon. “Nobody? At all?”
“Not even Brianna,” I said with a sigh. She’d been my last choice despite being one of the more talented art students at the high school. Brianna was a bit of an airhead and not always on time. Still, I would have taken her help if she’d offered it.
But just like everyone else, she was busy. And another reminder that I should have asked them earlier than I did. Bad on me for assuming they’d do it again this year.
“I have no clue what I’m going to do.”
I tore into my box of books, a shipment of early reader editions that never seemed to sell well, but Gwen always insisted we carry. She couldn’t come into the store with any regularity, but she kept a sharp eye on all the orders and sales we made. These were a restock of novels it had taken almost a year to sell. I scooped as many as I could under my arm and crossed to the shelf near the front of the store.
“Any ideas?” I called out to Morgan as I placed the books in their spot.
She took a beat to reply. “No. I feel like using those art students was the best option.”
“I know.” I walked through the store and stopped at the entrance to the back room. “They were so creative, and I loved having their input on the project.”
I didn’t add that, in comparison to them, I was not creativeat all. Sure, I’d worked in the theater and did a little bit of everything—building sets, sewing costumes, painting, trimming, lighting—but it was always under someone else’s vision, never mine. Some people hadit, that extra spark that allowed them to fashion greatness out of a pipe cleaner or an old paper towel roll. Others had to follow. I had to follow.
I braced my hand on the doorframe. “So, I’m thinking—”
“Oh, no.” Morgan straightened from her work, a set of colorful, floppy children’s books in her hand. “I can guess where you’re going with this.”
“Your bulletin boards are epic,” I pointed out. “They loved the one you did at the country club last Christmas.”
“Just because the staff liked it doesn’t mean I’m talented.”
