Page 21 of Safe With You

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to think about that.

“Luna, where do you want the extra chairs?”

“Against the back wall for now.”

“The café’s almost out of oat milk.”

“I’ll grab another carton in a second.”

“Do we have another extension cord?”

“Bottom drawer behind the register.”

The questions came one after another, but somewhere along the way I’d learned how to answer one while already thinking about the next.

One thing at a time.

I stepped around two volunteers arranging the front display, resisting the urge to fix the stack of paperbacks leaning slightly to the left. The problem was convincing the part of my brain currently cataloging everything that could possibly go wrong in the next hour.

“Those look good,” I told them as I passed.

One of the volunteers laughed. “You sure? You’ve looked over here like three times.”

“Have I?”

“At least.”

“Then I’m going to stop looking.”

“I give you five minutes.”

I laughed. “Don’t say that.”

She laughed again before turning back to the rest of the display.

I glanced around the bookstore, mentally running through the list I’d been repeating to myself since I unlocked the doors that morning. Programs were stacked on the welcome table. Mrs. Jenkins had already dropped off the peach cobbler, Naomi’s brownies had somehow survived, and Denise was near the stage flipping through her notebook while a volunteer handed her a bottle of water.

The sound system was the only thing left that made me nervous.

My eyes found the microphone immediately.

Naomi crouched beside the speaker with a roll of black tape in one hand.

“I think that’s going to hold,” she called.

“It better.”

She laughed. “Always the optimist.”

“I prefer prepared.”

“You prefer worrying.”

“I do not.”

Naomi lifted an eyebrow.

I sighed.