Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)

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.”