Page 35 of Home Town

Giving up the ruse, Josie said in a whoosh, “Oh my God, Bailey. Everything is a mess.”

“Tell me.”

Bailey was right. She knew Josie too well. She was going to have to explain the whole compass disaster. She had no choice.

Josie opened her mouth to spill all about the historical society’s trust in her, and how she’d somehow screwed up and lost the very item she was there to document, when something stopped her.

A sixth sense maybe. A gut feeling. Whatever it was, at the last moment she pivoted and instead said, “I might have taken on too much by promising I could get the town’s anniversary event up and running in less than three weeks.”

Bailey, ever the cheerleader, said, “You can do it.”

Josie laughed. “Sell enough tickets to cover all of the expenses and make enough extra for the historical society to pay for the bronze statue of the founder they want to commission for the center of town? I’m not so sure.”

That little tidbit about the financial goal for the celebration being the erection of a founder’s statue had been left out of their meeting the other night. Josie had discovered it on her own in an old post on the Facebook page no one in the historical society could update because the only person with the log-in information had died.

“Oh,” Bailey said, less enthusiastic than before. “That’s a lot for them to expect of you all alone. The historical society should be helping you, right? Are they?”

“Um…”

“Josie! Have you even asked them? Delegated what you need help with?”

“No.” Delegating wasn’t her strong suit. And for two days she’d been too busy with the compass. Researching it yesterday. Trying to find it today…

“Josie! You need to,” Bailey reprimanded.

The full weight of the task at hand, the task which she hadn’t been devoting enough time to because of the damn compass, pressed upon her.

Josie squeezed her eyes closed for a second then said, “I know. I will.”

“You’ll get it done. You’re the most diligent and organized person I know,” Bailey continued. “If anyone can motivate the old ladies in town to pull off a miracle, it’s you.”

Josie let out a scoff. “Tell my family that. They all think I’m a screw-up.”

“They do not?—”

“They do. And please, Bailey. Do me a favor. Don’t tell my brother how in the weeds I am on this event.”

“Um…”

Josie didn’t like the sound of that.

There was a rustling on the line and then Quinn said, “Josie, not telling me isn’t going to help you fix your mess.” He sighed. “You know what I’ve always said about overpromising and underdelivering. Why did you agree to take this on to begin with?”

“I’m so sorry! You were on speaker phone,” Bailey called from somewhere near Quinn, who’d obviously grabbed the cell.

“You’re supposed to tell someone when they’re on speakerphone!” Josie called back.

“That’s it. We’re coming home,” Quinn announced.

“What? No, don’t?—”

“I’m due a leave. I can get away for a couple of weeks. I’ll put in a request. We can get right on a flight.”

“But Bailey?—”

“Needs to rest her voice. Xander’s recording schedule gave her freaking nodes,” Quinn revealed. “Maybe me being in New York will have him reevaluating his priorities, because right now, Bailey’s health isn’t one of them.”

Josie wasn’t exactly sure what nodes were but they’d sure pissed off Quinn. She remembered the term from back in her stage crew days. The actresses in the musicals were always talking about nodes and worried about getting them. Whatever they were, they weren’t good.

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