Page 94 of Just One More Thing

I look at her. “Really?”

She glances up at me, grin still there. “Who are we to deny the town joy?”

Walt points at her with his pen. “That’s exactly the spirit I was hoping for.” He goes to make the drinks while Hank patrols for dropped pastry crumbs and old women who might have cookies in their purses.

Holey Moley is loud before we even walk in. Maddy’s voice carries straight through the door. “...and I’m telling you Hattie, a glazed doughnut wrapped around a sausage would revolutionize that hot dog cart of yours.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I say as we step inside.

Both Maddy and Hattie turn. One look at Maddy’s face and I know we’re in trouble. “Well, look who rolled outta the hay.”

“Granny,” Mo groans.

“I didn’t start the rumor,” Maddy says. “I’m just maintaining momentum.”

“You’re gossiping about your granddaughter.”

Maddy sets a hand to her chest. “We don’t gossip, dear girl. We simply share prayer requests with details.”

Miss Hattie cackles so hard she has to grab the counter.

Frank slides a pink box toward me and leans in close, lowering his voice like we’re conspiring instead of standing in a doughnut shop at eight in the morning.

“On the house,” he whispers. “For stamina.”

I nearly choke on my coffee.

By the time we make it out of Holey Moley and across to The Green, the whole place is already in motion.

Clipboards everywhere. Chalk lines marking lanes. Folding tables half dressed in banners and donation jars. A microphone giving feedback in angry little bursts every thirty seconds. Somebody inflating something shaped like a paw print. Somebody else dragging coolers.

Bethany stands in the middle of it all with a clipboard and the expression of a woman one inconvenience away from felony charges. She’s directing volunteers like an air-traffic controller with zero patience for human error.

Wayne, naturally, is “helping.” Which mostly means moving cones nobody asked him to move and pointing at things with the confidence of a man who has never been burdened by self-doubt.

“Why are you here?” Bethany asks him without looking up.

“Restoring order.”

“You’re moving cones.”

“You see moving cones. I see providing an invaluable service.”

She moves one right back where it was without breaking eye contact. “There. Order restored.”

Wayne opens his mouth to argue, sees us, and immediately forgets every other thought in his head.

He breaks into a sprint.

“Oh no,” Mo mumbles.

He reaches us and hugs her hard enough to lift her clear off the ground.

“Wayne… oxygen…“

He sets her down, keeps hold of her shoulders, then leans back and squints. “You’re wearing his hoodie,” he says, pointing.

“Yes.”