Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Meadow

Where is it? I know I left it somewhere . . . but where? Think, Meadow, think.

I dig through the piles of clothes on my bed, tossing shirts and jeans aside, frustration growing with every second. If Grandma hadn't sworn that I didn't like it, I wouldn't even be looking for it. But I want her—and the entire town—to see me wearing her latest creation.

Sure, it's not a sweater I'd ever pick up at a store or choose to wear. But she made it with love, and . . . who am I kidding? It's hideous, scratchy, and feels like a woolen punishment. Do it for Grandma , I remind myself. She worked hard on it. It's supposed to be just like the one Lyric Decker had on when I saw her in New York, except . . . this one is more colorful. And way itchier.

Okay, fine—I don't like it one bit. They say don't meet your heroes. Well, in my case, it's more like, when you meet your heroes, don't mention to your grandma that they are wearing a cool, very expensive knitted sweater or she'll try to create a knockoff out of it.

Love my grandma, but she really should stick to pot holders and little critters at her knitting club—and maybe lay off the wine. Sure, those sweet old ladies say they're there to knit, but I've seen the bottles of wine, tequila, and gin. Oh, and let's not forget the audiobooks they listen to while "knitting." The grandmas in Kentbury like their yarn colorful and their audiobooks sexy and a little dirty.

Not that I'm judging or that it matters right now. The only thing I care about is finding my sweater, which has seemingly vanished into thin air. I could've sworn I left it right here. Seriously, I don't have time for this. I'm already running late, and the last thing I need is another delay.

"You know what I need?" Jane's voice pulls me from my search.

I glance up, and there she is, my best friend and roommate, standing in the doorway with that familiar, playful smirk. Of course. Perfect timing.

"No, but please, enlighten me," I say, rifling through the pile of clothes, hoping the sweater magically reappears.

"An elephant in a tutu," she announces as if it's the most logical thing in the world. "Do you think she'd fit in the cottage? Maybe we can get a baby elephant, though. You know, like they have baby donkeys."

I stop, raising an eyebrow. "I think you mean baby horses. And who's going to take care of this elephant? We can barely keep up with Whiskers van Gogh, let alone a baby elephant."

"Oh, so you are paying attention to me."

"Of course I'm paying attention to you," I sigh, tossing a sock over my shoulder in frustration. "With that loud voice of yours, how could I not?"

I love Jane, really, I do. But some days, like today, I just don't have the patience for her random, out-of-nowhere ideas. Not when I'm on the verge of losing it over a missing sweater.

Jane plops onto the edge of the bed, completely unbothered by my frantic search. "So, what is it that you actually want?" I ask, side-eyeing her.

"I was thinking we should get one of those robotic cat litters," she says as if it's the most pressing issue in the world. "They're on sale, and it would help with the cleaning. Oh, and I heard you're in charge of the Pumpkin Festival. Thought maybe you'd need help."

I pause, narrowing my eyes at her sudden willingness to get involved. Jane is the sweetest person I know, but she's not exactly one to volunteer for town events. She avoids festivals like she avoids doing her taxes. There has to be an ulterior motive. "Why?"

She shrugs, avoiding eye contact. "You don't have a co-chair. I could be it, you know."

"Okay, seriously, what's the real reason you want to be part of this?"

"I don't want Genie assigning me to something random next year . . . or ever."

Ah, there it is. Genie, our town's unofficial festival queen, has a way of roping people into her projects. If you volunteer to help now, she won't make you head of some massive festival for months—sometimes even years. I'm sure Jane's trying to dodge being put in charge of the new Spring Festival. She's the only florist in town, after all. Currently I'm in charge of the Pumpkin Festival and to be honest I'm not thrilled with it, yet I know it's something that will help me in the long run.

"Fine, you can be my co-chair," I say, giving in. "But you need to actually help me run it."

"That's all I'm asking for," Jane replies, flashing a triumphant grin.

I shake my head and finally spot the corner of Grandma's sweater sticking out from under a pile of scarves. Of course. "I'll head to Kneady Kentbury Bakes first, need to get some cupcakes for Grandma and then head to visit her. I'll let Genie know that you'll be helping me."

"Not just helping, but co-chairing," she specifies.

I nod and head out.