More importantly, why did it bother me so much?

Five

The next weekend’s rehearsal took place at the actual Faire site. Only two more weeks until we were up and running. And while that was exciting, this new meeting location threw off my routine. After all these weeks, I could practically drive to the high school on Saturday mornings with my eyes closed. Now my Jeep and I had to shift gears, and while Caitlin read to me off some emailed directions (apparently the place didn’t show up on GPS), we ended up in a field-turned-parking-lot at the edge of a forest.

“The hell?” I got out of the car and squinted toward the trees. “We’re going in there?” This was exactly how stupid white girls died in horror movies.

“Come onnnn.” Caitlin hadn’t watched the same horror movies as me, and she tugged on my arm and led me toward a path snaking into the trees. I sighed and followed her. What the hell. By now April was mostly mobile. She’d be able to take care of herself if I was hacked to pieces by a serial killer in a hockey mask out here.

The wide, well-trod path opened up almost right away into a clearing, with multiple smaller paths forking out in all directions. A few stages were constructed within sight of the clearing, and other wooden structures dotted the distance. It was like a whole civilization hidden inside the outer ring of trees.

Caitlin, with the confidence of an excited kid, led me down a path on the right winding through full green trees that acted as a filter for the early-morning sunlight. When I glanced back over my shoulder the parking lot wasn’t visible at all. It was a little unsettling, but as I turned back to the path, the sun and the trees had a calming effect. I already liked it here.

The rest of our people were gathered in a clearing with a sign nailed to a tree: CHAUCER STAGE. There was no stage. There was half a platform and a stack of planks ready to be made into the rest. Chris sat on the edge of the finished half of the stage, holding up a pearl-encrusted bodice and talking to one of the other adult volunteers.

Costume. Right. I stuck my sunglasses on top of my head and fished in my backpack while I walked toward her. I’d brought my boots today for final approval. If Chris okayed them now, I wouldn’t have to talk to Simon unless it was absolutely necessary. Everyone would win.

Chris looked them over. “No zippers or modern ornamentation. Looks good to me.” She handed them back to me. “I didn’t see you at the bookstore this week.”

“I know.” I smiled; it was nice to be missed. “April’s down to physical therapy every other week now.”

“That’s great news! So she’s getting better?”

“Much.” My smile widened. “Thanks for asking.”

“Of course! Tell her I’m thinking of her.” Chris placed a hand on my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. I was dismissed, but not rudely.

My smile remained in place as the rest of the cast gathered around the half-finished stage for our morning briefing. I liked these people; I liked this town. Why didn’t April? I could see her valuing privacy, but no one was trying to meddle. So far, everyone I’d met in Willow Creek was nice.

Then I spotted Simon. Okay, almost everyone. I looked him over and frowned. It wasn’t like him to be at the back of the crowd like this, but there he was, leaning against a tree, fiddling with something in his hands. Sunlight flashed off silver, and I squinted when I realized he was holding a flask, turning it over and over, tossing it lightly from one palm to the other.

What was with this guy? The day we’d met he’d been the straightest of straitlaced people, but lately it was like he’d been letting himself go. His hair was massively in need of a trim, and if I’d thought he looked scruffy the weekend before, now he looked like he’d given up on shaving entirely. And why was he skulking in the back with booze? He was a teacher, for God’s sake.

He looked up and our eyes met. I started like I’d been caught at something, which I guess I had been. He frowned at me and stowed the flask in the back pocket of his jeans. Then he folded his arms firmly over his chest, his gaze more of a glower in my direction. I quickly turned back around.

The energy in the group was charged with excitement, and it was easy to see why as I looked around. Wearing long skirts and practicing accents in a high school auditorium felt like planning an overly elaborate Halloween costume. But here in the woods, away from traffic noises and the hum of industrial air conditioners, the only sounds were the chatter of the kids around us and the wind rustling in the treetops. It was easy to imagine we’d stepped into another century.

“Different kind of rehearsal today!” Chris’s voice rang out in her usual sunny tones, and everyone quieted down and turned their attention to her. “This is going to be our home from now until the end of the summer.” She threw her arms wide as if she could embrace the trees. “We open in two weeks, and we have volunteers working hard to put this place together. So what we’re going to do today is take a walk around the site and get to know it. It’s all basically one big circle, with lots of side paths. Feel free to explore for a little while, and then we’ll get to work.”

“Work?” I turned to Stacey, my eyebrows raised. She bumped me with an elbow and directed my attention back to Chris, who was still smiling, way too pleased with the idea of work on a Saturday morning.

“We leave the heavy lifting—literally—to our stage techs and volunteers, but there’s plenty we can get done this morning. A couple of the sets are constructed and ready for paint; that’s why we asked you to wear old clothes today, remember!”

I had forgotten about that, but thankfully it was laundry day, so I was wearing a stretched-out T-shirt and an old pair of jeans. I craned my head around for my niece. What had she worn today? God, I’d be useless if she ever went missing. I spotted her curly brown hair toward the back with the usual friends, and thank God she was actually wearing paint-appropriate clothes. She’d listened better than I had, apparently.

Once the meeting broke up, we split into smaller groups of five or ten to explore the paths snaking through the forest. Time to see where we were spending the rest of the summer.

Simon didn’t join any of the groups. He slipped out of the clearing as soon as the meeting was over, striding with intention down a side path. Off to drink probably, judging from the flask. I frowned again as I trailed after Stacey. Simon and I weren’t friends. I didn’t know him well at all. But something seemed so off about him today I couldn’t help wondering if he was all right. And why no one else seemed to notice. He seemed relatively well-liked among cast members who weren’t me. Why wasn’t anyone checking on him?

I shook off the thought as we moved deeper and deeper into the woods. The main trails were paved for the most part, but halfheartedly so, like roads that had been abandoned long ago. Side paths weren’t paved, but a thick layer of mulch had been laid down. I coughed as our footsteps stirred up dirt and dust.

“That’ll get better,” Stacey said after I coughed for the third time. “It’s always a little dusty when they first put a new layer of mulch down. But by the time we open, especially if we get some rain, everything will be tamped down pretty well.” She twisted her mouth up a little. “Be prepared, though. Faire is really dirty. The long hot shower at the end of the day is going to be your best friend for a long time.”

“Along with taking off that outfit.” Because I couldn’t imagine anything in the world feeling better than that.

Stacey laughed. “That too.” She led me off the main path, and somewhere in the middle of the woods, she threw her arms wide at the edge of a clearing. “Here’s the tavern!”

I turned in a slow circle. “Uh-huh.” I probably looked as unconvinced as I sounded. It was a clearing in the woods. Nothing else. “Where exactly is it? Don’t tell me we have to build it ourselves.”

“God, no. The guys are coming in over the next few days to build the bar. They’ll put in the tables a day or two before we open.”

“So people hang out and drink?” What were open container laws like out here in the forest? I’d spent most of Jake’s law school career working as a cocktail waitress and backup bartender, so now that the talk was turning more toward the tavern part of tavern wench, I felt a lot more in my element. “So what are we serving? Beer, wine? Liquor?”

“Not liquor.” She shuddered. “Believe me, beer and wine are enough. I don’t want to imagine shots.”

“But we’re gonna have all this cleavage.” I gestured at my T-shirt, which currently contained nothing of the sort. I needed the outfit to make cleavage happen. “I figured body shots were a must.”

Stacey giggled. “This is a family-friendly Faire, remember?” She gestured again toward the invisible bar. “We’ll have kegs with some beers on tap. Some bottled imports, usually some ciders and mead too to mix it up a little. A few kinds of wine. That’s about it. We try to keep it pretty simple.”

I nodded while I took mental inventory. “Food?”

“Not here.” Stacey gestured in a waaaaay over there motion. “Food vendors are that way. Typical outdoor Faire stuff.”