Page 11 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
“Oh, speaking of Ruby River,” Glamma said brightly, reaching for her handbag—a vintage Gucci that probably cost more than my monthly rent. “I have an idea, and your yoga would be at the heart of it.”
I choked on my own spit. “What?”
She grinned, looking delighted and slightly mischievous. “You’ll find out tonight at the meeting. I think it’s just the thing to get more people to take advantage of what you’re offering. Really put Sacred Serenity on the map.”
I sighed, recognizing defeat when it was wearing designer sunglasses and had a French bulldog as a sidekick.Crap.“Do I need to prepare something? A presentation? A speech?”
“No, sweetheart. Just bring your lovely self and we’ll take it from there.”
Why did those words sound so ominous? Like the universe was setting something into motion that I couldn’t stop even if I tried?
Glamma collected her purchase and Coco and gave me one more knowing look before sweeping out just as dramatically as she arrived.
The second the door closed, Cheryl turned to me with barely contained glee. “You’re going to that meeting.”
“I know,” I groaned, dropping my head into my hands.
“And Marc will probably be there.”
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because you’ve said business owners often attend, and because I have a feeling Glamma will have coerced—I mean convinced—him to go too.”
Oh no.
No, no, no.
“This is a disaster,” I muttered. One meet-cute, ughmeeting, with Marc Kingsley was enough for the day.
For any day.
“This is amazing,” Cheryl corrected. “I need to know what happens. I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t even live in Ruby River!”
“I live close enough. Plus, this is better than anything on TV.” She grabbed her phone. “I’m texting my study group that I can’t make it tonight. It’ll be too good to miss. Will there be snacks?”
I looked up at the ceiling of Aunt Jem’s shop—my shop now, though it still didn’t feel real—and sent a silent prayer to the universe.
If you’re listening, I could really use some help here.
The singing bowl on the counter chimed softly, moved by nothing I could see.
Great.Even the universe thought this was funny.
Chapter Three
MARC
Iarrived fifteen minutes early to our monthly Ruby River town hall meeting, and I still wasn’t the first one there.
The folding chairs were already half full. Metal legs scraped against the old hardwood floor in uneven, unpredictable intervals that made my shoulders inch toward my ears. Each scrape was like nails on a chalkboard, impossible to anticipate, impossible to ignore. I chose an aisle seat near the back—left side, fourth row—close enough to see the podium and close enough to the exit if the sensory input became too much and I needed to leave.
The routine helped. Same seat. Same position. Same proximity. Predictable.
Penny rushed in behind me, nearly jogging as she beelined for the back table to lay out her baked goods. To those of us attending, they were emergency supplies to get through the next hour or two. Her voice pitched high and fast as she apologized to no one in particular. The rise and fall of her tone tangledwith other conversations already competing for dominance in the room.
Mrs. Fawcett’s jam jars clinked as her friend set them down too hard.
