Dad leaned forward but remained quiet while staring at his coffee. Moments later, he lifted his eyes to mine, and they were filled with regret. “I should have. I’m sorry. It’s becoming clear that there are a lot of things I ignored over the years that have affected you.”
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” I muttered.
Dad winced.
“We’d better get to work before the early birds show up. I appreciate you being honest with me.” I wasn’t sure how to get through the breakfast rush and then go to the Holiday Hoopla meeting and pretend my entire world hadn’t been turned upside down. At least I’d get to see Amos at the meeting, which should cheer me up.
Fuck. Do I tell Amos?
TWENTY-EIGHT
AMOS
“Great recap of the tree lighting. Thanks.” Bo, sitting on my left, drew a tidy line through the agenda item. “All right, let’s switch to touching base on our remaining events. How are things going with carriage rides over the covered bridge? Are drivers accommodating the carriages without issue?”
I tried to pay attention while someone reported a broken carriage axle and tracking down a replacement, but it was difficult. My attention kept wandering to Mickey and howoffhe seemed. The best way I could describe it was sulky. Not like a pouty teen, but someone who was upset about something and was doing their best to get through their obligations for the day. Adulting was hard.
He hadn’t arrived until right before the Holiday Hoopla meeting began, so we didn’t get to chat at all. He’d given me a small smile before taking the chair on Bo’s other side. The tables were arranged in a hollow square, and Bo and I sat on each side of a corner, so I was angled enough to see Mickey easily.
Since I couldn’t reach him to knock my foot against his in a casual gesture to tell him I hoped he was okay, I decided to text and see if I could cheer him up.
Amos: All this talk of wagon axles makes me miss theOregon Trailgame. Were you a ford the river kind of guy, or did you prefer to caulk your wagon?
When the corner of his mouth lifted as he glanced at me, the pressure in my chest eased. I hoped I could snag him after the meeting to check on him. Odds were that Bo would have to hurry to his next meeting, so we might get a chance to connect before I had to head to Sparky’s to work the rest of the day.
Mickey: I always died of dysentery before I got to the deep rivers.
I bit back a laugh.
“Next up is the Christmas Eve Community Dinner. Thanks to everyone for your enthusiasm about theGood Morning, USAvisit. I’m still working with them to arrange where they want to shoot B-roll and do interviews. Once that’s settled, I’ll reach out to relevant folks so we can get that squared away. My inbox is full of people asking how they can get themselves or their business on TV, so I’m doing my best to try and accommodate what makes sense.”
Bo sounded exhausted. I couldn’t imagine the extra work this was putting on him. He deserved a vacation after this was over.
“For transparency, they figured out that Drake Derry is living in town and that his twin, Dirk, is planning to be here for Christmas. They’re pushing me to ask Drake and Dirk to sing some Melodious Moon songs at the dinner. It’s not happening, but I wanted you to know they’re asking for it.”
Several in the room shared their support of Bo’s decision. Maplewood was protective of their own—those who grew up here or chose to move here.
I’d wondered if something like that would happen. I’d recognized Drake when I’d run into Mickey and his friends at the pub, and Mickey had later filled me in on why Drake was in town and how he wasn’t performing any longer. It made sense thatGood Morning, USAwould want to highlight a local celebrity in their footage, and I respected Bo for pushing back.
“Mickey and Amos, can you give us an update on the dinner itself and anything you need from us?”
I suspected Mickey wouldn’t object to me giving the update, so I jumped in. “SinceGood Morning, USAis attending the dinner, we’re expecting higher numbers of people hoping to get on TV or see the spectacle. Bo has secured more funding, if needed, to cover the additional food, so we won’t turn anyone away. As you saw in Bo’s email, we’ve moved the event to the Maplewood festival grounds. We could use everyone’s help in spreading the word about the venue change. The high school has offered to put signage out on the day to direct any stragglers.”
“Do you need more volunteers?” Roger asked.
“Yeah,” Mickey said. He cleared his throat and sat straighter. “The increased attendance means more food to serve and more tables to bus, and we’re still trying to find additional volunteers. We’d rather have too many volunteers and send people away than be short-staffed on the night. Both Red’s and Sparky’s have offered to pay their regular staff to work the event, and most have agreed.” His voice didn’t hold its usual, friendly tone. There was a heaviness to his words.
What the hell was going on?I hated that I couldn’t pull him into a hug and try to help ease whatever was making him so off-kilter. If we had to keep our growing relationship a secret, how could I be a true partner and give him support when he needed it?
“We also still need volunteers for delivering meals to community members who can’t join in person,” I added.
Mickey smiled at me, and I returned it. Gossips be damned.
“Huge thanks to Mickey and Amos for pulling this off.” Bo turned his head to make eye contact with each of us. “I know you weren’t expecting to take this on, and the demands keepgrowing. You’ve done a great job in helping us celebrate this huge Holiday Hoopla milestone while honoring a special part of Maplewood’s history.”
Bo crossed another item off his agenda. Seriously, how could someone freehand such a straight line?
“How are things shaping up for the New Year’s Eve party?”
