It was nearly five on Friday afternoon, which meant they were in day two of the festival. They’d gotten through the fireworks the previous night, along with the first concert. Tonight was concert number two—the main draw being a bluegrass band with the unlikely name of A Blue Grass Band.

“We’re in the park,” the lead singer was saying for possibly the eighth time in as many minutes. He had moved from the street to the sidewalk, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate her by appearing taller.

“I know,” Felicia said, hoping she could maintain her air of patience and understanding. In truth she wanted to pick up the nearest large object and beat the man with it until he stopped complaining.

“Why are we in the park? We’re never in the park.”

Felicia drew in a breath. “You’ll have more seating there. We’ve set out chairs on both sides, with a large grassy area in the middle. The sound will travel better without the buildings so close. The food court leads directly to the park, increasing traffic flow. People who didn’t plan to come hear the music will be drawn in. Attendance was up last night by twenty percent, as were CD and T-shirt sales. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”

“I don’t think you have the right energy for this job. Where’s Pia?”

“Unavailable,” Felicia said, doing her best not to grit her teeth. “And if you want to complain, you’ll have to get in line. I believe someone is already putting a curse on me.”

“This sucks,” the twentysomething man told her. “And you bite.”

With that eloquent insult, he stalked away, leaving her clutching her tablet.

She had forty-eight more hours, she thought grimly. With luck, she would be in bed by midnight and able to sleep until six. The same on Saturday. Which meant twelve of the forty-eight hours would be spent pleasantly. She couldn’t say the same for the other thirty-six.

“There you are.”

She sucked in a breath and turned to see Ford striding toward her.

“You let my mother have a booth to find me a wife.”

She started walking. “Get in line.”

“What?”

“Everyone has something to complain about. I don’t want to hear it.”

Ford grabbed her arm. “Hey, my mother has a booth, and she says you gave her the permit.”

She stopped and faced Ford. At least if she went after him, she wouldn’t have to worry about hurting him or being sued. Of course, odds were he would kick her ass, but under the circumstances, that might make her feel better.

“She has a legal right to have a booth in the festival if that’s what she wants. She isn’t doing anything illegal and she paid her fees. It was my job to give her the permit.”

He dropped his arm and stared at her. “But we’re friends. You should have my back.”

Those words cut her far deeper than any knife thrust. She clutched the tablet to her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

“She wants me married off. She’s taking applications.”

He sounded really upset, she thought. “She’s being proactive. It makes her feel better. You were gone for a long time, and she doesn’t want to lose you again. Surely you can understand that. In a way, it’s funny.”

“It’s not funny to me. You should have told me.”

She tried to see the situation from his point of view. Just because she wanted to be paired up didn’t mean everyone did. Look at Gideon, who avoided all emotional involvements.

“You’re right,” she said, nodding quickly. “I was wrong not to say something. I can see how you’d view my actions as a betrayal.”

Ford shifted. “Betrayal is a little strong.”

“No, it’s not. I was a bad friend. I apologize.”

“Jeez, Felicia, I was pissed, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“It was thoughtless of me.” She felt her eyes burning, and it took her a second to realize she was starting to cry. “There’s been so much going on. I’m trying to be understanding, because the changes are necessary, but everyone is resisting. There’s more pushback than I anticipated and I haven’t slept and now you’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry,” he muttered. “It’s fine. Seriously. I’m okay. My mom’s probably doing a good thing, right?”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’ll say anything if you promise not to cry.”

She sniffed. “I’ll do my best. However, once the sympathetic nervous system is engaged, it can be difficult to stop the process.”

He swore.

She swallowed, still fighting tears. “You can go. I’ll be fine. I feel better, knowing you’re not angry with me.”

“I’m not. Really. We’re good. Okay?”

She nodded and he took off at a run.

Felicia walked through the crowds, trying to gather control. She generally didn’t give in to tears, which just illustrated how much stress she was dealing with. Perhaps sugar would help.

In front of her, a boy of eight or nine stomped his foot. “This is stupid,” he yelled at his mother. “I want an elephant ear. They’re supposed to be right here. Why aren’t they here?”

“I don’t know. Everything’s different this year.” She looked at her husband. “It’s just not as fun.”

Felicia clutched her tablet tighter. “The elephant ears are over by the food court,” she said, pointing. “Next to the lemonade stand. It’s not very far.”

“Thanks,” the man said, putting his arm around his wife. “You know, a lemonade sounds good.”

The family walked in the direction of the food court. Felicia stared after them, trying not to take the boy’s comments personally, but it was difficult. She’d so wanted the festival to go well.

By eight that night, Felicia was ready to admit defeat. She’d been verbally chastised by both the honey vendor and a small boy looking for the lady who made the balloon animals. When Mayor Marsha walked up to her, she knew she had to come clean.

“It’s a disaster,” she said, facing her boss. “I’m sorry. I was so sure my way would be better. The flow is easier and I know there are more people listening to the music. But maybe I overestimated how much that would matter. Change can be difficult, I know. I took on too much.”

The mayor waited a beat. “Is that what you really think?”

“No,” Felicia told her. “I don’t. Before, it was silly. With the corn dog vendor by the tarot card reader, people were eating when they came by. Even if they wanted a reading, they weren’t always comfortable going into her booth while holding a corn dog. And the lines for the food spilled in front of other booths, blocking them. There wasn’t enough seating for the various bands. This is better. Only no one believes me.”

Mayor Marsha linked her arm through Felicia’s. “In the words of Yogi Berra, Imperfectum est dum conficiatur.”

Felicia translated in her head. “It’s not over until it’s over?”

“Exactly. There are still two more days. Give people a chance to get used to things. I like what you’ve done, and I suspect they will, too.”

“Is this before or after they lynch me?”

“Hopefully before.”

Felicia stopped and faced the older woman. “Are you angry?”

“Not at all. You’re doing your job.”

“What if I ruined everyone’s holiday? What if they don’t have good memories of this Fourth of July?”

“You’re assuming a lot more power than you really have. The memories are about them, not you. Searching for an elephant ear isn’t going to ruin anyone’s day.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

* * *

GIDEON WENT LOOKING for Felicia around sunset. He found her by the park, on the edge of the crowd listening to the bluegrass band.

“What are the odds of them doing a cover of the Beatles’ ‘Hard Day’s Night’?” he asked as he approached.

She surprised him by dropping her tablet on the ground and stepping into his embrace. She wrapped both her arms around his waist and hung on tight.

“Hey,” he said, stroking her long red hair. “You okay?”

“No.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “I’m not. Everyone hates me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Everyone but you. It’s awful. I thought I was tough and brave, but I’m not. I’m weak. I’m a failure.”

He touched her chin, nudging her until she looked up at him. Her green eyes were swimming with tears.

“You’re also a little dramatic. Getting your time of the month?”

She managed a smile. “You’re trying to distract me with sexist comments.”

“Is it working?”

“A little.” She drew in a breath. “The festival is a disaster, and it’s all my fault.”

He glanced around. “I don’t know. People seem to be having a good time.”

“They’re not. No one can find anything. The vendors are furious. The band guy acted like I was stupid.”

“That must have been refreshing.”

She dropped her head to his chest. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“It’s a festival, kid. Not world peace. If you screw up, no one dies.”

She raised her head and sniffed. “Perspective. You’re right. I messed up, but I’ll do better next time.”

“There you go.”

More tears shimmered in her eyes, and one trickled down her cheek. He felt like someone had kicked him in the gut.

“Why are you crying?”

“I feel awful. I’m not used to failure.” She wiped away the tear, then leaned against him again. “When I was fourteen, there was this guy. Brent. He was one of the few students who would talk to me. Maybe because he was older. He’d been in the army, in Iraq. He’d lost both his legs and was in a wheelchair. He was like a dad to me.”

She sniffed again, still hanging on to him. “He was in a lot of pain all the time, but he was so brave. I tutored him for a few math classes. He’s the one who talked to me about becoming an emancipated minor. He helped me with the paperwork and went to court with me.”

“He sounds like a nice guy,” Gideon said, doing his best not to be jealous. She’d said dad, not boyfriend.

“Brent’s the reason I joined the military. I wanted to honor him. Whenever I got scared, I thought about what he would do, what would make him proud.” She stepped away and looked around. “If he were still alive, he wouldn’t be very impressed with me today.”

She drew in a breath. “Not by the mistake—everyone makes mistakes. But because I’m crying over it. Talk about stupid.”

He realized several things at once. That from an early age, Felicia had managed to find what she needed emotionally. A mentor here, a father figure there. Justice was like a brother, as was Ford. She might have been abandoned by her parents, but she’d instinctively learned to take care of herself as best she could.

He also understood that she was harder on herself than any soldier he’d ever known.

“Are you right?” he asked.

She turned back to him. “About the festival?” She shrugged. “I know my theories are sound. So if I only consider the logistics, then, yes. But people are harder to quantify. Especially in a setting like this. I didn’t take that into account.”

“Standing up for what you know is right is the definition of bravery, Felicia. You have to believe in yourself.”

She gave him a weak smile. “That’s something Brent would have said. It’s a soldier thing, right?”

“They beat it into us.”

The smile strengthened before fading. “I don’t like that people are angry with me. I’m not used to being questioned. It makes me uncomfortable. Plus, what if I was wrong about the festival? What if I get fired?”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll give you a part-time job at the station. You can work in the file room.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “Do you have a file room?”

“No, but I also don’t think you’re going to be fired, so it’s not a big deal.”

She leaned against him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She bent down and picked up her tablet.

“Come on,” he said, heading toward the food court. “Let’s go get an elephant ear. I hear they’re tough to find, but worth the effort.”

* * *

“HERE.” THE TAROT woman handed Felicia a pale green T-shirt. “To say thank you and I’m sorry.”

Felicia wondered if there was a curse on the shirt. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Um, you’re welcome?”

The woman smiled. “I had a great festival. You were right about my booth. I got way more traffic. I hadn’t realized how many people walked by without stopping because they were eating. This time, I had a line practically all four days. It was great. I’m sorry I was so difficult.”

She turned to walk away, then looked back. “Whatever you want to do for next year? I’m up for it.”

Felicia smiled at her. “I’m happy to hear that. Thank you.”

The woman waved.

Felicia held out the shirt and grinned when she saw all the tarot cards displayed on the front of the shirt. A friendly gesture, she thought happily. Not the first of her Sunday evening, either.