Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

H olding hands wasn't supposed to actually make little electric shocks run through her. Penny was fairly sure of that. But she swore that she felt a zing as Ashley folded her hand into Penny's, and that delicious feeling kept zipping through her, a warm memory, for the rest of the afternoon.

It had to, because once they left the diner, both women were pulled opposite directions and into different kinds of chaos. Penny caught glimpses of Ashley now and then when the pub manager came out to check up on the raising of the barn, or at least, of the event tents. God, she was lovely. A commanding presence. Just beautiful. And willing to try giving Penny Partridge, a shrimp from Denver, a chance at dating her.

Penny was insanely lucky already, what with the Sixty Pix going viral and the sudden leap in their popularity, but even that barely held a candle to the idea of taking Ashley on a real date. She didn't know how she would manage to make that evening, with both of them having their own schedules, something special, but she was determined to try. And the first, most critical thing, was to grab Ashley's cousin Laurie, who had started the whole event mess, and say, "This thing tonight, is it a dress-up thing? Do we get to be fancy?"

"It's not formal," Laurie said cautiously. "Even if it had been gonna be, that was before it was being held in a parking lot. But it wasn't gonna be anyway. There'll be a lot of people in garb, though, because it's sponsored by the local Renaissance Faire people."

"Right." Penny stared at him. He was tall and lighter blonde than his brothers, but otherwise looked exactly like the rest of them, as far as she was concerned. "What's 'garb?'"

Laurie blinked, then laughed. "Renaissance-era-style clothes. Or fairy court stuff, even. Kind of fantasy things? Medieval stuff? That kind of thing."

"Right." Penny nodded, still squinting up at him. "Does Ashley have anything like that?"

"Oh, God, yeah. She used to do the faires with us and she had some great stuff. She had this terrific elfin costume and used to do her hair in braids." He gestured at his own hair in its intricate thin braids. "I stopped doing the elf stuff after she quit but I'm getting back into it for next year. It's gotten really popular again."

"Right," Penny said a third time. "Can you get her costume? Her elf costume? And get her to do her hair?"

Laurie's eyebrows rose. "There is zero chance my cousin is going to sit down and do her hair when she's got all this going on."

"Tell her it's for a date." Penny marched off, thinking, as Laurie yelled, "A date with who?"

She didn't have 'garb' or anything that could even pretend to pass as elf-y, but this was a town called Renaissance that held a huge Renaissance Faire every year. There had to be somewhere she could rent a costume. And maybe get her hair done. "Gwen!"

Her bandmate was helping set up a small stage at the back of one of the tents, and stood up in a flurry of wires and wrenches. "Yeah?"

"Can Bill recommend a Renaissance garb store around here?"

"Probably, just a second." Gwen put a wrench in one pocket and took her phone out of another, starting to text and then making a face before actually calling Bill with it. Penny watched in vague horror as she did that, and was stunned when he apparently answered. Either that or Gwen had lost her mind and was talking to nobody, but since she hung up and said, "There are five of them. One's really high-end, three are in it to sell to tourists, and one is the store most of the locals use. He'll text you the addresses, but the nice one is up the road from the Harlequin music club, if that helps."

"Oh, yeah, it does. I'll go there and if they don't have what I'm looking for I'll try the one the locals use. Thanks!" She drove off in the van, grateful that Renaissance had sensible streets that went in order, and found her way to the first of the costume shops. It was clear, just from the window display, that it was both out of her price range and intended for people shaped like six-foot-tall slender Ashley, not like short and stubby Penny. She went in anyway, and to her delight found that the proprietor was barely taller than she was, and definitely not svelte by anyone's definition.

"This is ridiculously beautiful stuff," Penny said wistfully as she drifted through the store. The owner was at a sewing machine, nominally putting together something in shimmering dark blue fabric with stars and moons embroidered in delicate gold, although she was mostly smiling and watching Penny as she examined the gowns. Some looked like actual leaves had been sewn together in dozens of gold and red shades, or were the bright welcoming colors of spring. There were lightweight cloaks that glimmered like sunlight on water, and fanciful concoctions that supported wings or sweeping shoulders or curving threads of wire that caught the light like magic dust was floating around the dress. "I don't suppose you rent any of these things…"

The owner, who wore a name tag that said Karina , smiled. "Not usually, but it's the middle of winter, so I'm less likely to be selling much. We can probably arrange something."

Penny, glancing outside, said, "I'm surprised you're even open at this time of year, now that you've mentioned it."

"Well, this is where my sewing machines are." Karina grinned. "Since I'm here to sew anyway, it's no skin off my back to keep the door unlocked and have people wander in. Mostly it's quiet, though. Starts picking up in March and then there's usually an influx of people who decide to get married at the faire and want something special for it. What colors do you like?"

"Anything that clashes with my hair," Penny suggested.

"Purple and orange it is," Karina agreed.

An hour later Penny had a dress rented, and an appointment with somebody who could apparently do something appealing with her choppy short hair. It took much, much longer to deal with her hair than she anticipated, to the point that she started sending Gwen in-progress pictures along with notes that said No wonder I blow it dry without looking and call it good. How do people stand actually doing their hair every day? Or their makeup?!

Gwen, whose own makeup was on point in a way Penny could only envy, sent back laughing emojis. The secret to the makeup is a bold red lipstick and then nobody notices anything else.

You lie, Penny wrote, and then had to put the phone down while the hairdresser wrangled her head around. She had to admit the end result was awfully satisfying, though, and only took a little convincing to let them send her next door to a place that would do her makeup, too.

Of course, she was setting Ashley up for terrible disappointment, by getting all gussied up like this. Neither housecleaning nor drumming required dressing nicely, and Penny couldn't currently remember the last time she'd really dressed up. Even the TV interviews over the past month had mostly been jeans-and-t-shirts sorts of affairs, although there had been a couple fancy enough to justify a cute dress or two. But that was several steps below 'trying to impress a girl at a gala,' even if it was a gala held in a parking lot under festival tents and kept warm with giant space heaters.

It was dark by the time she got back to the pub—the sun set just before five at this time of year—but the event tents were all set up and looked terrific. Penny went to find Gwen to make sure they would be ready to play later that evening. They were, but mostly, her bandmate took one look at her, said, "Oh my God, you look fabulous . I've got to up my game! See you in a couple of hours," and ran off to get ready.

That, Penny thought, was a good sign. Maybe Ashley would be equally impressed.

She pulled the cloak she'd rented tighter around her shoulders and went through the tents, looking at everything that had been set up. There was a Christmas tree with a bunch of fake birds in it, and shining rings to brighten it up, mistletoe strung everywhere, little LED tree lights in multiple rows giving the whole space a surprisingly soft warm glow, and a startling number of people already there. From their outfits, some of them were definitely staff, but a lot were in what Penny now recognized as 'garb,' which did range from some very real-looking medieval-y stuff to fairy outfits even more fanciful than her own.

An unexpected number were musicians. Penny eyed the stage she and Gwen had helped set up. It was meant to hold quite a few people, but she didn't think it would manage a dozen or so musicians with lutes and drums and flutes and whatever else people were carrying. Especially not with her drum set already up there.

Well, it wasn't her problem. She and Gwen would have the stage to themselves at the end of the evening. If everybody else was cramming up their on their own earlier than that, then they could deal with it. There were dancers, too, people working out some kind of stage performance that they'd probably had rehearsed just fine before they ended up in a tent with poles in their way. Penny was reasonably confident they'd figure it out, and thought that if there was this much entertainment here already, it might turn out to be a pretty great evening.

She took a moment to look into the pub, hoping to find Ashley, but backed out again slowly. The holiday parties Ashley had mentioned were in full swing, with one rowdy group in the eighty-person event hall and another one crowded into the stage end of the pub. Not that the stage was set up now, but it had been down next to the beer garden's main entrance, when the Sixty Pix had played there in October. Now there was a party that spilled out into the beer garden, and a considerable number of other patrons stuffed into the pub as well.

Penny decided that Ashley didn't need her as a distraction, and that it was very unlikely the pub manager would have time to dress up. "In which case," she said to herself as she retreated to her van, where it was warm and quiet, "I hope she doesn't think you're totally ridiculous for dressing up yourself, Pen."

Ashley might not. By the time the charity event doors were actually open at seven, Penny herself thought she was ridiculous. She liked wearing cute summer dresses when she wasn't working, but she didn't wear fairy costumes, and she didn't wear this much makeup, and she didn't get her hair done, like, ever . Both housecleaning and drumming were sweaty jobs. Doing more than raking some mousse or spritzing hairspray through her hair was as done as it ever got. She looked stupid, felt stupid, and worst of all, was so dolled up she would have to go back to her hotel to shower and start all over again to get out of this get-up, and she didn't have time.

Instead, she sat in the front seat of her van, slumped down and seriously considering never getting out of it again. If she sat there long enough she could freeze to death, and that would be better than embarrassing herself by overdressing for a maybe-not-even-a-real-date with Ashley Torben.

Sadly for her, long before she was in any actual danger of freezing to death—particularly since she had the heater on—Gwen pounded on the van window. "What are you doing in there!" she yelled through it. "The party is over there! Maggie Ross is here! You gotta meet her!"

Penny, somewhat sullenly, rolled the window down. "Really? She's here already? I thought somebody like her would show up really late, stay for five minutes, and disappear again."

"She's in there telling everybody that if they behave themselves she might get her husband to bring in the biggest swan anybody's ever seen. More importantly, she's already gotten him to cut a five quintillion dollar check for the charity fundraiser, so everybody's really in a partying mood now. C'mon!" Gwen jigged impatiently. She'd come back to the party in a black leather dress that wasn't even vaguely Renaissance-y, but was very, very rock star, and her signature wine-colored lipstick lit up her smile like a beacon. "C'mooooon!"

"Okay, okay, fine." Penny killed the engine and crawled out of the van, letting Gwen help her because there were a ridiculous number of layers to her skirt. "I feel stupid. Who is Maggie Ross married to?"

"You look incredible. Her husband is the owner of All-Arena Entertainment. He's the professional wrestling guy."

"Oh. Oh, that Conroy Loyal guy or whatever? Yeah, I've heard of him. I didn't know she'd married him. He better worship her, man."

"Conri Lyell, yeah. And judging from the size of the check he wrote, he absolutely does. C'mooooon." Gwen tugged Penny's elbow, dragging her toward the charity gala, which, Penny had to admit, sounded like a great party. She could hear the flautists somewhere in the crowd, playing Christmas carols with a couple of reasonably quiet drummers supporting them. There was an incredibly tall blond woman in the crowd, but it wasn't Ashley, and Penny's heart dropped with disappointment.

"Have you seen Ashley?"

"No, not yet—hey, wait!" Gwen made sounds of protest as Penny peeled off, heading toward the pub, then sighed and yelled, "Well, don't forget to come back to the party!" after her.

"I won't!" Penny just wanted to make sure Ashley would be there. Celebrity pro wrestlers were cool, but not the person Penny was interested in seeing. Even if Ash hadn't had the chance to dress up, maybe they could still make it a date.

Another tall blond came out of the pub, her hair swept up in intricate braids that put Laurie's to shame, wearing a high-collared green gown so elegant that Penny didn't recognize her as Ashley for a few seconds. She looked regal , like there should be an emerald crown in her hair. The gown was lined in thin strands of silver, making her look even taller and more slender than she was, and Penny couldn't help a despairing laugh. She was a hobbit who had fallen for an elf. A small, roundish, brightly-colored hobbit. It was impossible.