Chapter 6

"Whipped cream?"

I grab a new bag of expresso beans and begin pouring it into the top compartment of the hefty expresso machine that sits on the counter behind the pastry display and register.

"Excuse me, I asked for whipped cream."

I turn and see the young woman I just handed a drink to. She gives me an apologetic smile. I gasp a little and pause to say, "Oh, sorry, my bad. Let me get that for you."

I set the expresso beans down and take the pumpkin latte from her, popping off the lid and foaming a large dollop of whipped cream on the top even though I know she requested no such thing. I switch the lid for a domed lid and give it back. She inspects the latte quickly before taking a straw and saying, "Thanks."

She walks out of the café doors, and the room is calm again. Two people sit near the fireplace while a guy works on his laptop at one of the small tables against the windows. Weekday afternoons have much-needed lulls, but some days it feels like everyone in town gets their coffee here.

My phone buzzes in my apron. Since no customers are at the counter, I take it out and check the screen: a text from an unknown number. I unlock my phone to read it.

Hi, Mia, it's Abby. I've been thinking about you and what you said when you came over. Are you free at all today? I'd like to talk some more.

I read the message twice and then glance around the café at the customers still preoccupied. I respond: I go on break in an hour. If you want to stop by Blue Moon, we can talk here.

Abby promptly replies, agreeing. Kiki should get here soon to help with the after-work rush, and she'll take over while I'm on break. Usually, I make myself a drink, grab a snack, and hang out in the small back room during my breaks, but excitement starts to bud in my chest at the thought of Abby coming here.

She's been thinking about me. That's good. Maybe it means she wants to tell me what caused her to pull away years ago.

I tidy up behind the counter and serve the few customers who mosey in before Kiki arrives. She comes through the back door, strips off her coat in exchange for an apron, ties up her black hair, and washes her hands before joining me.

"How's it been?" She asks.

"Not too busy. Should pick up in a bit after my break. How come Taryn switched you with Beck?"

"I have a thing tomorrow, so now I have to drive to Rochester."

"A good thing?"

Kiki shrugs. "My boyfriend is moving there. We were supposed to go next week, but he has to go earlier now, so I'm helping him to finish packing, and then we're driving together. He got a good job offer so..."

"That's far. Like five hours, right?"

"Almost. It sucks, but hopefully, I'll be moving there too. He says he wants me to move in with him once he's settled."

"Oh? Settled?" I question.

"I don't know what it means, but I'm hopeful it'll be sooner rather than later. I've been saving up to go somewhere, I just didn't know where. Rochester, living with him; it seems like a good place to go."

"I'm sure it'll work out."

"Either he sends for me and my shit or cuts things off now that we'd be hundreds of miles apart."

I make a remorseful face. "Oh, no, he wouldn't do that, not after everything you've done for him."

"You'd be surprised at how shitty guys can be these days," she says, grabs a clean rag, and starts lazily wiping the toaster oven.

The door chimes. I look over and see Abby coming into the café with a rain-proof jacket on and a toque squeezing her curls. She spots me behind the counter, so I tell Kiki, "I'm going on break if that's okay. I'll just be here talking with a friend."

"Yeah, no problem."

I take off my apron and hang it up before walking around the counter to meet Abby. Abby pulls off her hat, tousling her brown curls, and then shrugs off her coat. I gesture to a table so she can put her things down. We sit facing one another. I clasp my hands together on the wood table top.

"This place is as cozy on the inside as it looks on the outside," Abby comments and peers around. "I've seen you working sometimes when I pass by."

"Oh, well, I've been here since senior year."

"You in school?"

I nod. "Online, but yeah."

"What for?"

"Not sure yet. A-are you in school?"

"No, just...working." She smiles tightly.

"Really? Doing what?"

"Construction. I'm more in the office, but it's a family business — my boyfriend's family."

"I think I've seen you with him around town."

"Yeah, that'd be him."

"How long have you been together?"

"A little over a year. How about you? Is there anyone you—"

"No. Not yet." Feeling slightly awkward, I gesture to the counter. "Do you want anything? It's on the house."

"I'm okay, thanks."

I nod and rest against the back of my chair.

"What about that thing you saw; the big black figure with bright yellow eyes? Have you seen anything more?"

"Not since that night, no. Maybe it was just a figment of my imagination. I don't know. And honestly, I'd be glad for it because I don't want to go through it ever again. Freaked myself out." A laugh a little to lighten the mood. "Sorry again for bombarding you with all of it."

Abby's fingers tangle in front of her, but she soon releases them and drops her hands to her lap. I can't help but feel that she wants to tell me something.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, sorry. It's just nice to talk again, kinda like old times. The festival's this weekend, isn't it?"

"Mmhm. You should come, bring your boyfriend."

"I will. Will you be working the festival?"

"For the first half. I'll help set up and stuff, and then my mom wants me to work the candy apple booth."

We chat about the Equinox Festival for the rest of my break even though I want Abby to talk more about herself. I conclude that the reason she ended our friendship will likely come with time, and hopefully she keeps giving me the opportunity to warm her up. I can tell she's still hesitant and uncomfortable about certain things, and the past is definitely one of them.

When our time runs out, she layers up and hugs me goodbye — an embrace that's neither forced nor homely. I sigh when she leaves through the door because a part of me wants to jump to the chase and be close again. Why waste more time being distant when we've already lost years of friendship? But not everyone acts this way. Abby is moving one step at a time, and it's not like I have anywhere else to be.

I grab my apron and return to my spot at the register. The after-work rush will be pouring in soon.

~•~

Saturday, the festival activities start extra early for me. I wake up to a ringing and buzzing alarm at six o'clock, and I talk myself out of bed and into the shower. Once I'm washed, brushed, and dressed, I teeter sleepily downstairs to make a cup of tea and something to eat. I can hear my mother getting ready upstairs; her hectic footsteps pad against the ceiling, round in circles and back and forth.

While my water heats, I step through the backdoor with my slippers on. An early autumn chill lingers through the tree trunks, against the forest floor, creating a fog visible even over the fence. I stop for a moment before watering my herbs because the gate is open. It's always closed.

The backdoor creaks suddenly behind me. I turn and see my mom. "Watering the garden?" She asks, terribly rushed.

"Yeah, I was just—"

"It's fine. Do you want me to put your tea into a travel mug? I'm doing the same with my coffee."

"Sure, thanks."

"Go on and water. If we could be in the car in no more than five minutes, that would be great. Marianne is waiting with the keys to the storage."

I nod, and she reverts inside. With no time to ponder about the forest fence gate, I head to the side of the house and get my watering over with, though my plants seem to be succumbing to the season. Dad has to work at the Lodge until noon, and Harper refuses to volunteer more than she has to. Mom didn't even bother asking Perry for help; he's utterly useless before eight, so we leave the house alone.

Hot air blows through the vents in her car. I rest my head against my seat and watch the houses pass by as my tea warms my hands.

"Ready for a long day?" Mom asks as she turns into the Laboratory parking lot. Only one other car is there: Marianne's.

"What's first?"

"First we load supplies into our cars, and then we drive to the park. The other volunteers will meet us there to start building things and putting everything in its place. You know what you can do?"

"What?"

She kills the engine. "As the different booths are set up, you can hand out and distribute materials. So you take the baskets to the basket raffle, candy and prizes to the game booths, scoring cards to the pie contest, etcetera, you know?"

"Sure. How many volunteers will there be?" I ask, and we exit the car. Marianne pokes out the museum doors.

"Oh, I wrangled up a good group this time."

We pull against the curb at the center park with a loaded SUV trunk, and, in seconds, I spot Harvey in the group of about twenty people. I stand to the aside as booth fragments, building materials, and autumnal decorations are carried onto the park cradling the southern edge of the lake. Pathways serve as guidelines so volunteers get to work, and I watch Harvey walk back and forth hauling painted wood boards, signs, and other hefty items.

I catch his eyes one too many times.

"Mia!" My mom calls.

I hurry to our trunk where she's stacking boxes. "Take these to Betsy, please. She's right over there." Mom points off into the commotion.

I lift the two boxes — just reaching my eyeline — and head off down the main path. People pass by, saying good morning, shouting to others ahead, and asking if I need a hand. I politely decline. Betsy is at the nearly-finished fishing hole game where a kitty pool is filled with a rainbow of plastic fish to be caught with magnet fishhooks and exchanged for prizes.

"These are for you," I tell her as I place the boxes down.

"Great, and I'm glad you're here. Come with me."

Betsy seems as chaotically focused as my mom. I follow her quick steps, and she brings me to an elderly lady under a white tent. The lady is piecing together a display of different flavored jams and preserves. "Mia's here to help you hang your banner, Mrs. Clark," Betsy announces in a loud, clear voice.

Mrs. Clark stops what she's doing and motions for me. Betsy vanishes into the commotion, so I go along with the lady to see what she needs. Mrs. Clark hands me a banner to stretch along the front of the tent; it says 'Homemade Fruit Jams,' and there are ties to secure it in place. I take the banner and stand before the booth, looking up at the edge of the tent. I reach for the top corner, just missing it.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Clark sighs. "It's too high up."

I lift onto my tippy toes and scrunch my face as I fight for a mere inch, but someone comes beside me and says, "Let me help you with that."

Mrs. Clark is already saying, "Thank you," before I can turn and see who it is.

Harvey takes the banner and effortlessly ties the first corner into place. I step back and breathe, "Thanks."

He smiles down at me, and my heart clenches. I grab the other end and hand it to him, and he ties the other side. I clear my hair from my face and straighten my back, and when the banner is hung, I ask Mrs. Clark, "Is this how you want it?"

"Yes, yes, that's fine. Thank you, both of you."

Harvey and I walk away together. I say, "I didn't know you would be volunteering today."

"Well, when I went to the Laboratory to join the Society, your mother said she was looking for volunteers."

"You joined the Society?"

Harvey looks ahead. "My family has been in this town since its founding, so being a part of its historical society seems fitting."

"It is. And I knew she was going to ask you, but I didn't think you'd agree."

He glances at me. "I don't seem like the type?"

"No," I admit. "To me, they all have this slight obsession with Black Lake and its social circles. You seem like the last person to care about Black Lake mom drama."

"I can't say I care about mom drama, but my parents and grandparents and so on were members, so it's more so a legacy decision. Restoring Norwood House, helping with the festival — I do it because I care about this town; it's my family's history."

"Of course. I think I would do the same if I was in a founding family."

"How long has your family lived here?"

"My parents moved here. The rest of my family lives in Vermont. Do you have family elsewhere?"

"Blood relatives — no."

"Your parents aren't—"

"They've passed on."

My throat swells. "Oh, I'm sorry for prying."

Harvey says, "Don't be. It's alright."

"Mia?"

I look to my left and catch sight of Abby. She's walking towards us with the guy I've seen before — her boyfriend. "You're early," I call and wait as she makes her way to us.

"I know," she says and looks over Harvey. "We're going to breakfast at Millie's first. This is Liam, my boyfriend."

Liam smiles at me but fixates on Harvey, almost like they know each other. "This is Harvey...Norwood. We're just helping get everything set up."

"We won't keep you," Abby says. "I just wanted to say hi and tell you that we'll see you later. Looks like there'll be a lot going on at the festival this year."

"Yeah, a lot to get ready, but I'll keep an eye out for you."

"Same. Good luck with the preparations."

I grin and wave as Abby and Liam walk off. Harvey watches them with his arms crossed. "Abby's my friend from childhood," I tell him.

My mom steps onto the path, and I straighten my face. Her hair is already a little frizzy, and her Society lanyard is all tangled with her supervisor's lanyard. "Mia? Harvey?" She waves for us. "Come here for a second, won't you? I need a favor."