Chapter 19

nineteen

River

October: Sunflower Fest

I grab my phone and snap photos of the front of The Featherweight decorated with dried corn stalks, pumpkins and gourds in a variety of oranges, yellows, and greens. The baskets of mums that line the walkway amplify the sunny look of the building. Everything feels like the last moments of sunshine before something dark and dreary. I don't want to be ominous but I can't shake the feeling. Maybe it's just the October chill setting in. Or seasonal depression. Can that just start if you never had it before?

I've turned a few of the front lawn seating boxes into a festival station and put our newest servers with Delia to train out here. I ask her to pose before snapping a photo.

"Hey! I haven't touched up my makeup, don't put that on social media," she complains.

"Just for Lily, we can re-do it with the new fleece jackets later for marketing. You can have ample time to primp before that, promise," I reply with hands in the sky like she's the police. See, Officer Shane, I have nothing to hide. I smirk to myself over the joke before typing out a quick text to Lily with the photo attached.

River:

Check it out. The Sunflower Fest is about to have a whole new tasting menu thanks to you and Vermont

Wish you were here

I watch as three dots pop up and disappear. I wait for a few minutes hoping she's just crafting a reply.

"Hey boss," one of the new guys shouts trying to figure out how to maneuver the kegs to their ice bins. I pocket my phone and rush over before he puts a dent in the hardwoods. Lifting in tandem, we heave the kegs in place before hooking up the taps. These aren't traditional fall beers; there's nothing pumpkin spiced here which has my dad making faces at me. He's not fond of the craft brew concept, but worse when it doesn't line up with whatever he hears is on trend. He assumes that by being different I'm too far outside of what the market wants. I'm hoping to show him otherwise today. The case of maple syrup and the inspiration for a maple porter and a sunflower seed hefeweizen that came out of the trip last month are perfect. Dad immediately balked at these new ideas and tried to tell me they would flop.

Thankfully, my dad is quickly proven to have no idea what drives folks. We've officially had one of our strongest Saturdays in ages. The tables indoors and out were full from the early end of lunch through the booths closing down. The vendors packed it in and clamored for the dinner buffet the business council and I set up as a thank you for their participation, and many said they'd be back for future events.

The only thing which could have made today better would have been hearing back from Lily. It's nearly 8:00 p.m. and she's still quiet. I can't help but think of her that night in Vermont, on the floor of the forest, gasping for air. Her body bent and breaking from inside, and yet as soon as she saw me something switched. A playfulness returned to the corners of her eyes. She made a joke and wouldn't speak of it after. We still haven't discussed what happened, instead sticking to exchanging memes and missed calls.

I swear, for a minute if I had been more sure she was okay, I might have grabbed her face and kissed her. It just was all wrong, and now I'm stuck waiting for the chill between us to lift. For things to get comfortable again, if that is even possible. The possibility of her conveniently missing the upcoming events for Stefanie and Lee feels more real than ever. I just want to shake her, to wake her up to the truth. Or, the truth as far as I'm concerned at least.

Maybe if I tell her what happened at Grant's bachelor party it will make her understand this was never her fault. It might make her hate me, but that seems more fair anyhow. All I'm certain of is the exhaustion in my bones means my thoughts are jumbled, dragging myself up the stairs I crash. In the morning I have a reply.

Lily:

Looks gorgeous! I can't believe Delia let you take a picture of her without mascara on…