Page 113 of The Ballad of Us
Neither of them has worked up the courage to do more than exchange pleasantries and comment on the weather, which is frankly painful to witness. I'm considering engineering a minor crisis that would require Tom's wilderness expertise and Rebecca's artistic critical thinking skills. Nothing dangerous, just something that would force them to spend more than thirty seconds in each other's company.
Then there's the fascinating case of a local deputy coroner, Alex Webb, who drives over from the next town over every other weekend, allegedly to "check on some cases." What he does is sit at Mountain Mornings for hours, ordering unnecessary amounts of coffee and staring at Emma like she's a particularly complex equation he can't solve. Case in Point’s drummer, Parker, has taken notice of Alex’s daydreaming in Mountain Mornings and has been more than perturbed by the development.
Emma, for her part, has mastered the art of professional friendliness, revealing absolutely nothing about her level of personal interest. She treats Alex the same way she treats every other customer—efficiently, pleasantly, and with the kind of emotional distance that suggests she's either completely oblivious to his interest or strategically ignoring it.
My money's on strategic ignoring because that girl notices everything. Yesterday I watched her track the precise moment when Gray reached for Rhea's hand while they were sharing a muffin, and she had that little smile that suggested she was filing the information away for future use.
Which reminds me, I've been documenting all these romantic developments in what I call my "Village Improvement Journal." Not for gossip purposes, you understand, but for community welfare planning. It's essential to comprehend the dynamics of relationships that impact overall village harmony and energy flow.
For example, I've noted that Rhea's productivity at Mountain Mornings increases by approximately thirty percent on days when Gray stops by during her shifts. Emma's coffee art becomes significantly more elaborate when she's in a good mood, which directly correlates with customer satisfaction and tip percentages. Mrs. Chen sells more romance novels during weeks when there's visible romantic progress happening in the village.
It's all connected, Suga. Community happiness is a delicate ecosystem that requires careful tending and occasional strategic intervention.
That's why I've taken it upon myself to plan what I'm calling the "First Annual Village Summer Festival." Nothing too elaborate, just a modest celebration featuring local music, artisan vendors, food trucks, and plenty of opportunities for meaningful social interaction.
Gray and the band have already agreed to a performance, which means we'll draw crowds from surrounding towns. Jake can display his artwork, Rebecca can showcase her pottery, and Emma can debut her new maple cardamom latte, which she has been perfecting. Mrs. Chen is planning a romance novel reading nook, complete with fairy lights and comfortable seating.
But here's the masterstroke— I'm positioning all the vendor booths and activity stations to maximize what I call "natural collision opportunities." Tom's hiking gear display will be directly adjacent to Rebecca's pottery booth. Alex will have no choice but to interact with Emma if he wants coffee. Parker’s hand will be forced to finally make a move on our beloved coffee shop owner.
It's going to be beautiful, Suga. Like choreographing a community-wide romantic comedy, but with better lighting and superior acoustic planning.
Mrs. Patterson moseys by with her ancient golden retriever, and I wave enthusiastically. She changes direction and heads up my front walk, which means either she has gossip to share, or she's noticed something that requires my immediate attention.
"Leslie, honey," she calls, slightly out of breath from the gentle incline of my perfectly landscaped path, "did you see that fancy car parked outside the bookshop?"
I did indeed notice the sleek silver sedan with Bibb County plates, but I've been observing from my porch rather than investigating directly. Sometimes the best intelligence comes from patient surveillance.
"Interesting visitors," I say neutrally, offering her the second rocking chair I positioned specifically for these consultations.
"That's Koi Hendrix’s car," Mrs. Patterson says, settling into the chair with obvious relief. "He's been in there with Mrs. Chen for over an hour. It looked like they were having a serious conversation."
This is fascinating. The car was already parked outside when I woke up this morning. Koi Hendrix has never been here that I’m aware of, so it’s odd he’d make a social call to the bookshop. What could they have to discuss for an entire hour?
"Any theories?" I ask, refreshing Mrs. Patterson's sweet tea from the pitcher, which I keep handy for exactly these occasions.
"Well," she says, lowering her voice to a conspiracy level, "Kensie, the new yoga instructor, says Koi was inquiring about leasing Rhea’s apartment when she and Gray move to their new cabin.”
Oh, my stars. Koi isn't just interested in visiting our village. He's considering relocating, at least part-time, to Dogwood Hollow. The implications are staggering, particularly considering his sister, Henley, is also not-so-stealthily property hunting.
"That would certainly be convenient for Case in Point, since they just signed with Red King Records," I say carefully.
"Mmm-hmm. And I hear Koi's also been asking about the rental rates for that apartment above the old hardware store, too."
My interest is more than piqued. How did Koi snooping around Dogwood Hollow escape my notice?
"Mrs. Patterson," I say, my mind racing with possibilities, "you don't suppose Koi has met someone up here, do you?"
“This is better than my favorite soap opera. We have a potential romance brewing between the Jake and Gray's therapist, Dr. Hannah, both of whom appear to be considering relocating to our village for reasons that may or may not be entirely professional.”
"Have you mentioned any of this to Mrs. Chen?" I ask.
Mrs. Patterson's grin tells me everything I need to know. "She might have received some information about various community developments. You know how she likes to stay informed about potential changes that might affect local business opportunities."
Mrs. Chen, bless her romantic heart, is likely in that bookshop right now facilitating whatever conversation Koi needs to have about small-town living. And if I know Mrs. Chen, which I do, intimately, because we've bonded over our shared commitment to community improvements, she's also gathering intelligence about Koi’s personal interest in Dogwood Hollow.
"Well," I say, standing and smoothing down my linen shirt, "I think this calls for some strategic reconnaissance. Would you like to join me for a casual stroll past the bookshop? I've been thinking of checking on Mrs. Chen's new window display."
Mrs. Patterson heaves herself out of the rocking chair with the enthusiasm of someone who lives for this level of community intrigue. "I thought you'd never ask."
