She crosses her arms. “Well, I don’t like it and it makes me mad.”
Hearing this news, I know there’s only one thing to do: step around Annie and open the door.
She nods once and precedes me inside. All of the local business owners are stuffed in here like prizes in a vending machine. The few shelves covered in bolts of fabric have been pushed to the back of the room to accommodate all the metal folding chairs. There’s a small open area at the front, where Harriet is currently standing with a clipboard in her hand addressing the crowd. This really is a whole thing. How do these people have time for this? Someone had to bring all of these chairs and then set them up. Incredible.
When the bell above the door chimes, every head in the room swivels to see who entered. You can tell they were already on edge with the prospect of Annie showing up, because when they realize it’s her, there’s a collective gasp and quiet murmurs begin.
“Uh—Annie…welcome…we were just…”
“Oh, save it!” she says, moving through all the chairs to get to the front. Metal folding chairs screech against the floor in an attempt to shuffle out of her way quickly. “I know what y’all are doing here, and you should be ashamed of yourselves.”
And then Harriet steps in front of Annie to block her speech. The two begin to quietly bicker and I hang in the back, taking an empty seat next to Noah, who is by Amelia, who is by Emily, who is beside Madison. They each lean forward to wave and smile at me as I sit down. “Wondered if y’all would make it,” says Maddie.
“Why are you guys even here?”
They each—including Noah—look at me like I’m out of my mind for even asking this. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Because this is about your sister.”
Amelia grunts a laugh. “And last month it was about Noah and how he refuses to give free pies for the local elementary school fundraiser—that didn’t stop me from going. Popcorn?” She angles the bag my way.
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“So?”
“You popped a bag of popcorn at eight in the morning?” I ask, and she just shrugs. I look at Noah. “And why won’t you provide pies for children?”
Noah glares at me. “I did provide pies. I provided twenty-five pies.”
Amelia tsks. “Twenty-five rhubarb pies—and everyone knows that rhubarb pies are the worst pies, so it’s like he didn’t donate at all.”
Noah folds his arms tighter across his chest—clearly triggered. “When did everyone get so damn picky about free stuff? I had a surplus of rhubarb that week. They should be grateful.”
Someone in front of Noah turns around and glares at him. “No one likes the rhubarb pies, Noah. Just give us dirt in a cup next time.”
“You know what, Jonathan, I’m going to take every single pie off the menu except for rhubarb pie until you all learn to be grateful.”
Across the aisle, someone stands up and looks in our direction. “Before you do, can I get a fudge pie? I have family coming over tonight, and my mother-in-law swears I can’t cook—I want to make her eat her words when I serve a homemade dessert.”
Noah grumbles and then reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a notepad. “What time, Jane?”
“Can I pick it up around three?”
Annie and Harriet are still whisper-fighting in the front.
A man three rows up angles around toward us. “Noah! Can you put me down for a vanilla apple pie while you’re at it?”
“I’m out of apples—take it up with James and his shitty farm.”
James suddenly stands up from the front. “Damn you, there was a beetle infestation!”
“Hey!” Annie suddenly yells from the front of the room with one single reverberating clap. “Listen up! No more talking about pies. I have something to say. Harriet, sit down.”
Amelia’s bag of popcorn suddenly hovers in front of me. I push it away with a frown and focus on Annie.
She breathes in deep and then looks at me. I nod once, silently encouraging her to keep going.
Her shoulders square, and the woman looks fit for a court of law with how stern her expression is. Damn. It’s sexy. “It’s completely unacceptable for you all to gather together to discuss ways to break up me and Will.”
Mabel tries to interject. “But honey—”
“No!” She holds up her hand. “Everyone needs to hear this. I am so tired of being treated like a child by this town. Just because half of you had a hand in raising me doesn’t give you the right to make petitions and dictate who I can and cannot date. If I want to be in a relationship with Will Griffin—I will, end of story!” She snatches a brightly colored flyer from an audience member’s hand. “And furthermore, just because you guys made a petition and everyone—” She cuts herself off as she frowns down at the paper in her hands.